techno pop

Fabric 50

admin — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

The ever-prolific Fabric series returns with this effort from Dutch producer Martyn. Known for his work in dubstep, the mix starts out perfectly with Hudson Mohawke’s incredibly funky song “Joy Fantastic.” Martyn follows it up with two more drum-heavy tracks designed to get you dancing, and by the end of Nubian Mindz’s “Bossa Boogie,” which has an insanely catchy synth line, I was fully committed to dancing hard to this album.

Many of the tracks have a sound distinctly influenced by African and South American rhythms, like the two Zomby tracks, “Little Miss Naughty” especially. But even as Martyn looks to many places for influence, all of the tracks have a common theme of looking to the future to find new ways to make people dance, and perhaps more importantly, always be interesting to listen to.

Martyn’s track mixing is impeccable, as I hardly noticed when one track ended and the next began because of his subtle and masterful mixes. The songs all bring something different to the album, but they blend to create a perfectly curated mix that is a must have for your Saturday night play list.

Written by: Dana Reinoos, April 7th 2010

Jupiter

admin — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 22:53:00 +0000

By Starfucker

Badman Recording

I don't dance. At least not well. So an evening of bopping or grinding or shaking (or whatever the kids are into these days) isn't my scene. But that's no excuse to excise whole genres from my potential music library, and more electronic acts are creeping in by the day. Some of this music is too overwrought and pretentious for my taste, but from a group like Starfucker, which doesn't take themselves too seriously, the music can be gosh darn fun.

The three-man group, based in Portland, Oregon, is comprised of Josh Hodges, Ryan Bjornstad, and Shawn Glassford. Hodges' career before forming Starfucker included an album of '80s covers. That background which shows itself here in a nifty cover of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," as well as in his songwriting on the seven other tracks, each an original composition. The first, aptly titled "Medicine," gives the listener an immediate dose of what Starfucker is all about: catchy hook, techno beats, and interesting samples. Tune out if you like and bob along without a thought, or tune in and muse about the androgynous vocals or the retro samples of a lecture expounding on the meanings of "philosophy" that weaves in and out of the music.

Techno pop is implicitly optimistic, celebrating better living through science, robots, and outer space. Even though I did not grow up on the genre, a childhood of Star Wars and video games prepped my ear to enjoy it. The synthesized music here is repetitive, like a video game's soundtrack, but never boring. The second track, "Boy Toy," could have been written and performed by a pining R2D2 or Mega Man. Again, it is instantly catchy, but more aggressively techno than the first song, utilizing a full range of beeps and whistles. The following "Dance Face 2000" continues in that direction with computerized vocals that teasingly sound almost like discernible human speech, but not quite. Track 5, "Biggie Smalls," stands out by using oriental scales behind a synthesized organ.

All of Starfucker's songs feel immediately familiar, so a song we are familiar with can hoodwink us. The sixth track brings us to the aforementioned cover of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." A listener who hadn't studied the title list beforehand might think it was another original composition until the recognizable lyrics kick in. If we'd been lulled by the album's listenability thus far, suddenly we are paying attention. Well-known lyrics like, "Oh Daddy dear, you know you're still number one," in a male voice are refreshing to both ear and mind, coyly forcing the listener to consider the ambiguity of gender. It seems that both girls and boys like to have fun.

Like Starfucker's first album, Jupiter was recorded with Dylan Magierek. There is nothing "indie" about the flawless production. My only complaint is that the album is too short.

Written by: Charlotte Malerich, July 17th 2009

Skeletal Lamping

admin — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 11:06:00 +0000

By Of Montreal

Polyvinyl Records

I absolutely loved this album.

Before laying down my justifications for such a grandiose statement, I must put forth a couple of caveats. First, this is the only Of Montreal album I have ever listened to. I was familiar with a few of their better-known songs, but that’s it. Skeletal Lamping is the band’s ninth studio album. Second, I don’t typically like the type of music Of Montreal makes. While their sound is notoriously eclectic and has changed over time, Of Montreal in its current incarnation is most accurately described as "techno-pop-funk glam." I don’t like techno, and the word pop makes me shudder.

Despite my ambivalence toward Of Montreal's particular category of sound, I still recognize brilliance when I hear it. The opening song, "Nonpareil of Favor" left me utterly confused, but in a good way. Packed into this one song I identified funk beats, brilliant lyrics, nonsensical and unmelodic grunge-like guitar riffs, Queen-inspired operatics, psychedelic meanderings, and pop-rock precision. Yet somehow it all came together—not perfectly perhaps, but I was left intrigued and excited for the rest of the album.

It was not until the third track, "For Our Elegant Caste," that I collected another reason for singing Of Montreal's brilliance. This song is ridiculously catchy. The second it ended, it was already stuck in my head. Of Montreal is certainly pop, and god, this song must be good to dance to. Other club-friendly songs include "Gallery Piece" and "Id Engager."

Of Montreal's lyrics are top-notch. They maintain the descriptive poetry of indie rock without the accompanying pretension. Suffused throughout is a sense of frustrated disorientation on the part of singer and songwriter Kevin Barnes. It seems Barnes is afflicted with both hatefully destructive and lovingly life-affirming thoughts. In "Death Isn’t a Parallel Move," Barnes bemoans that, "All my thoughts are from a foreign host/Now I feel just like a ghost," a sentiment which oddly mirrors what it's like to read Barnes' lyrics: the concurrent onslaught of such unalloyed spite, tenderness, anxiety, fear, and elation results in a certain sense of free-floating alienation and disembodiment.

Nowhere is Barnes more confused that in the sexual arena. Some of the lyrics drip with dirtiness, while others are drenched in romantic love. Barnes recently reunited with his estranged wife, which explains a lyric like "When you're dead, I’ll look for you like Orpheus/I’ll find you some way," from "Plastis Wafers." Yet from the same song is the less romantic declaration, “I want you to be my pleasure puss/I wanna know what it’s like to be inside you.” The juxtaposition of pornographic lust with romantic yearning is prominent in almost every track, and in "An Eluardian Instance," Barnes whines, "This inbreeding of ideas is intolerable."

Baffling incongruities bleed into every facet of the album. Dark and dreary lyrics are paired with flamboyantly upbeat tunes. Illicit lyrics are paired with jazzy, romantic melodies. Kevin Barnes is a befuddled mess, and he takes us along for the ride. Sometimes so many sounds are packed into one song that a jarring discordance results. If you like uncomplicated, easy listening, this is not for you. Other music critics tell me that while Skeletal Lamping is good, the albums Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? and Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies: A Variety of Whimsical Verse are Of Montreal's true masterworks. Be that as it may, I can tell you with certainly that Skeletal Lamping took me by surprise and served as welcome antidote to the musical mediocrity that I've come to expect.

Written by: Katherine Don, March 1st 2009