Though their choice of band name is dubious, this synth-pop trio from Angers follows in the footsteps of their electronic predecessors, unleashing power-pop, manly falsettos, and charming accents. Their debut album, You Need Pony Pony Run Run, is the pleasant equivalent of a drive down the Champs Elysées in the springtime: a fresh gust of air, the aroma of nature reawakening, riding in a convertible with the top down, people walking the streets, the sun beaming down. Pony Pony Run Run unleash the emotional power of a young couple in love through a healthy appreciation of 80s British pop, a French disco twinge, and an American sensibility.
The original fivesome was formed in Nantes, France in 2003. Last year, two of the band members left, leaving brothers Gaëtan (guitar, vocals) and Amaël Réchin Lê Ky-Huong (bass), and friend Antonin Pierre (synths), or as they like to refer to themselves, “G,” “A,” and “T”. The threesome has released one album and two singles. They’ve achieved modest success in France and other French-speaking European countries but have yet to conquer American soil.
Several clues point to a desire to reach out to America in their music: all of “G’s” lyrics are in English despite his obvious accent, the subject matter has the depth of a Mandy Moore film, and “G” loves using clichéd Americanisms and fudging up his grammar. But hey, if grammar counted for anything, Kanye West would be homeless right now. By the band’s estimates, their influences are “80 to 90 percent Anglo-Saxon,” and by all accounts, their music has the potential to be more appealing to Brits and Yanks than to the French.
It’s almost fitting that the three major acts they’ve supported are Calvin Harris, Katy Perry, and Simple Minds…electro-funk, pop, and 80s one-hit wonder: all have a stake in Pony Pony Run Run’s sound. Their debut, You Need Pony Pony Run Run, is a spectrum of moods. Two music videos have been released for the singles “Hey You” and “Walking On A Line,” the former a warm, summer romance and the latter an ephemeral love story. “Love Veritable” evokes the sunglasses and slicked back hair of cool guys from the 80s, the curiously titled “First Date Mullet” has the pulsating and driving electronic rock that would be right at home with a band like Bloc Party, and “Show Me Show Me” is the perfect example of the light, infectious pop that makes this record such a carefree listen.
Pony Pony Run Run follows a well-known musical formula, but they shouldn’t be penalized for replicating and building upon an exciting regional sound. That’s why they are more than just another French-pop drone: they have that feel-good vibe that doesn’t wear off quickly. Look for a smarter, sleeker, and more eclectic follow-up album from Pony Pony Run Run. The instrumentals can only improve, as will G’s grasp of the English language (and his ability to express more complex lyrical themes). Expect big things from these guys.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
2pac, Biggie Rise From Dead, Kill Each Other Again
The battle of East coast and West coast took an undead turn for the worse on Saturday, as multiple reports have confirmed that the reanimated corpses of Tupac Shakur and Christopher “Notorious B.I.G.” Wallace shot and killed each other again in a Los Angeles recording studio.
The two legendary rappers were set to collaborate for the soundtrack to “Natural Born Killers 2,” and had started the first day of work when the incident occurred. Witnesses claim to have seen the two arguing over a particularly sweet G-Funk beat before pulling knives and guns on each other.
Hip-hop producer Dr. Dre, who was present at the session, had a few words to offer reporters.
“It’s a shame, I was really starting to feel relevant again. Hold up, could we go bring Eazy-E back to life?”
Biggie was roused back to the light by rolling over shortly after the release of “Notorious,” a piss-poor representation of his career funded by his money grubbing mother. He quickly rejoined Bad Boy records, but on the condition that P. Diddy would admit that he has no talent and would never rap on a song again.
Zombie 2pac made his triumphant return to the streets of L.A. upon the arrest of Suge Knight, a former manager and a legitimately terrifying person.
Since rising from the dead, the two rappers have confessed to planning each other’s murders. Each party issued a statement.
“I hit ‘em up…that’s the past. I’m back, I got double the albums, picture me rollin’ bitch, sippin’ on that thug passion.” – 2pac
“I told him, ‘touch my cheddar, feel my barretta.’ Motherfucker didn’t know, got smoked for bein’ resistant…” - Biggie
Normally, these confessions could be used in court, but the lack of any legal precedent for zombie murder has prosecutors shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads. Even though we didn’t ask for it, Kanye West offered his own eloquent take on the matter as yours truly was interviewing someone more interesting.
“Yo, journalist dude, I’m really happy for you and I’mma let you finish, but ‘Dawn of the Dead’ was one of the best movies of all time.”
Police officers on the scene offered their own racist take.
“I’m gonna be honest with this situation,” explained Detective Wally Whitewash, “Undead anti-role models killing each other? The likelihood of catching the culprit is slim to none…our motivation right now ranges from ‘Snoop Dogg weed bust’ to ‘they were probably high on crack.’ I doubt it’ll reach the ‘Rodney King’ level.”
Both rappers were scheduled to make a guest appearance on HBO’s “Entourage” next week.
The two legendary rappers were set to collaborate for the soundtrack to “Natural Born Killers 2,” and had started the first day of work when the incident occurred. Witnesses claim to have seen the two arguing over a particularly sweet G-Funk beat before pulling knives and guns on each other.
Hip-hop producer Dr. Dre, who was present at the session, had a few words to offer reporters.
“It’s a shame, I was really starting to feel relevant again. Hold up, could we go bring Eazy-E back to life?”
Biggie was roused back to the light by rolling over shortly after the release of “Notorious,” a piss-poor representation of his career funded by his money grubbing mother. He quickly rejoined Bad Boy records, but on the condition that P. Diddy would admit that he has no talent and would never rap on a song again.
Zombie 2pac made his triumphant return to the streets of L.A. upon the arrest of Suge Knight, a former manager and a legitimately terrifying person.
Since rising from the dead, the two rappers have confessed to planning each other’s murders. Each party issued a statement.
“I hit ‘em up…that’s the past. I’m back, I got double the albums, picture me rollin’ bitch, sippin’ on that thug passion.” – 2pac
“I told him, ‘touch my cheddar, feel my barretta.’ Motherfucker didn’t know, got smoked for bein’ resistant…” - Biggie
Normally, these confessions could be used in court, but the lack of any legal precedent for zombie murder has prosecutors shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads. Even though we didn’t ask for it, Kanye West offered his own eloquent take on the matter as yours truly was interviewing someone more interesting.
“Yo, journalist dude, I’m really happy for you and I’mma let you finish, but ‘Dawn of the Dead’ was one of the best movies of all time.”
Police officers on the scene offered their own racist take.
“I’m gonna be honest with this situation,” explained Detective Wally Whitewash, “Undead anti-role models killing each other? The likelihood of catching the culprit is slim to none…our motivation right now ranges from ‘Snoop Dogg weed bust’ to ‘they were probably high on crack.’ I doubt it’ll reach the ‘Rodney King’ level.”
Both rappers were scheduled to make a guest appearance on HBO’s “Entourage” next week.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Chrome Remixes
When one imagines a typical remix of an electronic track, too often its ends up as an overlong, fuzzed out, excessive mess of the original version. Chromeo has found a great balance in their remixes. They don't do many, but as the saying goes: quality over quantity. Most recently, their take on Tiga's 'What You Need':
Older Remixes:
Older Remixes:
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Album Review: Rebirth - Lil Wayne
Weezy’s newest effort is a tragedy. He was obviously aware of it too, because he did just about everything he could to wipe away the hype surrounding this album. On January 23 of last year, he made the mistake of clarifying that Rebirth would be his rock album debut, not a re-release of Tha Carter III as was originally believed. After delaying the album, balking through multiple release dates, releasing four singles, changing the tracklist after an Amazon.com shipping error, it became apparent that Rebirth was never a good idea in the first place.
Weezy’s guitar playing is so bad that it makes this album unlistenable. Lil Wayne should’ve learned to play the guitar before he decided to become a “rock star.” Apparently those rumored lessons with Kid Rock didn’t pay off, to the embarrassment of both men. The riffs and chords on this album never rise above the level of beginner. As his album cover suggests, his “rebirth” is nothing more than the product of several sessions of lazy doodling. If Rebirth is an indicator for Weezy’s influences, he must’ve been listening to the dregs of alt-rock from the past two decades. There are moments of electronic-inspired brilliance, but not enough to force yourself to weather this nü-metal shitstorm. Rebirth should alienate Weezy’s fans; the lack of classic Tha Carter material pushes his core fans away, while the low-quality rock won’t appeal to a different crowd.
Weezy’s flow goes together with rock about as well as journalists with Vladimir Putin. The Weezy formula for success is unbalanced; on Tha Carter albums, Lil Wayne’s smooth and minimalist beats perfectly contrast his arrhythmic, scratchy drawl. On Rebirth, the loud, distorted, and abrasive rock amplifies the more irritating nuances of Weezy’s delivery. The rock songs on Rebirth are so poorly recorded that listening to the record from start to finish becomes an exhausting effort.
By stripping away distortion and dropping the tempo and volume, Weezy’s brilliant flow takes flight. Lil Wayne shines on “Drop The World,” featuring a surprisingly well-suited verse by Eminem. “Runnin” has a slower, less chaotic beat that allows for him to show his more insightful side. Unsurprisingly, the only track to completely stick to Weezy’s old style sticks out like a sore thumb and is one of Rebirth’s best. Sampling Amy Holland’s “She’s on Fire” from Scarface, “On Fire” is a welcome eighties flashback remixed with Weezy’s typical swagger. There are several enjoyable tracks that were inexplicably left off the album, like the guitar-minimalist single released last year, “Hot Revolver,” or the old school, rap-sampling, Beastie Boys-inspired “Fix My Hat” and “I’m Not Human.”
The majority of the album is a heavily-compressed mess. The most popular track on iTunes, “Knockout,” sounds like it was recorded by a crappy, screamo Blink-182 cover band with a chain-smoking lead singer. “The Price Is Wrong,” the final song on the album, is a perfect example of everything ‘wrong’ on Rebirth: low quality punk-metal interlaced with mindless lyrics delivered in Lil Wayne’s best impression of rage.
His rhymes straddle the line between brilliance and idiocy, but mostly fall to the latter category on Rebirth. For instance, from “Get a Life,” quite possibly the worst diss track ever recorded: “I say fuck you, get a life, man I got too much shit on my head to have to deal with all of you…I said fuck you…All I can say is get a life, quit your motherfuckin’ hatin’ n’ get a life, get money and get bitches and get a life, get goin’ get goin’…”
…or this gem from “One Way Trip (ft. Kevin Rudolf): “Woke up this morning with my dick to the ceiling, fell asleep with another chick from my building, kick her ass out and have breakfast like a motherfucker…I’m with another bitch by supper.” Accompany these words with vague genre imitations and uninspired, unoriginal guitar riffs, and you have an album unfit to even donate to charity.
If Tha Carter III is Bruce Lee, then Rebirth is Jean Claude van Damme: a cheap knock-off, a big fat phony, it would be heresy to compare the former to the latter. Let us all close our eyes, purge this album from our memories, and pray that a year in Riker’s Island will allow the cash money millionaire to reawaken our faith with Tha Carter IV.
Weezy’s guitar playing is so bad that it makes this album unlistenable. Lil Wayne should’ve learned to play the guitar before he decided to become a “rock star.” Apparently those rumored lessons with Kid Rock didn’t pay off, to the embarrassment of both men. The riffs and chords on this album never rise above the level of beginner. As his album cover suggests, his “rebirth” is nothing more than the product of several sessions of lazy doodling. If Rebirth is an indicator for Weezy’s influences, he must’ve been listening to the dregs of alt-rock from the past two decades. There are moments of electronic-inspired brilliance, but not enough to force yourself to weather this nü-metal shitstorm. Rebirth should alienate Weezy’s fans; the lack of classic Tha Carter material pushes his core fans away, while the low-quality rock won’t appeal to a different crowd.
Weezy’s flow goes together with rock about as well as journalists with Vladimir Putin. The Weezy formula for success is unbalanced; on Tha Carter albums, Lil Wayne’s smooth and minimalist beats perfectly contrast his arrhythmic, scratchy drawl. On Rebirth, the loud, distorted, and abrasive rock amplifies the more irritating nuances of Weezy’s delivery. The rock songs on Rebirth are so poorly recorded that listening to the record from start to finish becomes an exhausting effort.
By stripping away distortion and dropping the tempo and volume, Weezy’s brilliant flow takes flight. Lil Wayne shines on “Drop The World,” featuring a surprisingly well-suited verse by Eminem. “Runnin” has a slower, less chaotic beat that allows for him to show his more insightful side. Unsurprisingly, the only track to completely stick to Weezy’s old style sticks out like a sore thumb and is one of Rebirth’s best. Sampling Amy Holland’s “She’s on Fire” from Scarface, “On Fire” is a welcome eighties flashback remixed with Weezy’s typical swagger. There are several enjoyable tracks that were inexplicably left off the album, like the guitar-minimalist single released last year, “Hot Revolver,” or the old school, rap-sampling, Beastie Boys-inspired “Fix My Hat” and “I’m Not Human.”
The majority of the album is a heavily-compressed mess. The most popular track on iTunes, “Knockout,” sounds like it was recorded by a crappy, screamo Blink-182 cover band with a chain-smoking lead singer. “The Price Is Wrong,” the final song on the album, is a perfect example of everything ‘wrong’ on Rebirth: low quality punk-metal interlaced with mindless lyrics delivered in Lil Wayne’s best impression of rage.
His rhymes straddle the line between brilliance and idiocy, but mostly fall to the latter category on Rebirth. For instance, from “Get a Life,” quite possibly the worst diss track ever recorded: “I say fuck you, get a life, man I got too much shit on my head to have to deal with all of you…I said fuck you…All I can say is get a life, quit your motherfuckin’ hatin’ n’ get a life, get money and get bitches and get a life, get goin’ get goin’…”
…or this gem from “One Way Trip (ft. Kevin Rudolf): “Woke up this morning with my dick to the ceiling, fell asleep with another chick from my building, kick her ass out and have breakfast like a motherfucker…I’m with another bitch by supper.” Accompany these words with vague genre imitations and uninspired, unoriginal guitar riffs, and you have an album unfit to even donate to charity.
If Tha Carter III is Bruce Lee, then Rebirth is Jean Claude van Damme: a cheap knock-off, a big fat phony, it would be heresy to compare the former to the latter. Let us all close our eyes, purge this album from our memories, and pray that a year in Riker’s Island will allow the cash money millionaire to reawaken our faith with Tha Carter IV.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Grammy Hangover
Musical taste is something that varies from person to person. The appeal of a song is in the ear of the listener. The worth of a song is much harder to measure than scientific breakthroughs or groundbreaking research papers. Even athletic success is measured by effort, skill, and winning. How do we go about measuring the success of a song or album? Music reviews tackle issues of originality, variation, and skill, but traditional formulas can only take you so far.
At best, the Grammys reward the best-selling artists of the year. At worst, they’re an exclusive, elitist, music industry ass-kissing machine that shoves established musical acts down our throats.
The most obvious example of this was the long transition of rap into an “acceptable” form of art. The rap genre, which had been rolling out big hits and had been a central theme in pop culture since 1980, didn’t have a category for best rap performance until 1989 (best rap album didn’t get included until 1996). Even then, the members of the Recording Academy largely ignored more hardcore hip-hop acts like N.W.A. and embraced the less threatening image of Run D.M.C. The snubbed rappers fired back lyrically, disillusioned that the first two rap Grammys went to the Fresh Prince and Young MC. The committee fanned the flames in 1992 by recognizing the white-friendly Will Smith over the far more talented Public Enemy at the peak of their career. It wasn’t until The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill won album of the year in 1999 that rap music was fully recognized. The committee, however, continues to reward rap acts after their heyday and neglect newer, fresher voices.
Remember what happened in 1992? Nirvana took the music world by storm with their second album Nevermind, and their raging hit single, “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Yet, for reasons unknown to anyone outside the committee, the grunge kings were glossed over for an award. Instead, the awards were swept by an undeserving Eric Clapton. I guess Nirvana didn’t get the memo that Grammys will always go to rock legends past their prime.
The first winner for best hard rock/metal performance in 1988 was widely believed to be going to Metallica, yet, in a cruel twist of fate for all parties involved, Alice Cooper ended up embarrassingly announcing that Jetthro Tull had won the award. That’s right, the same flute-rocking medieval-serenading group that reached the height of their popularity in the 70s.
In 2001, Two Against Nature, by the Steely Dan, won the award over Eminem’s The Marshall Mathers LP and Radiohead’s Kid A: one was forgotten, two became classics. This logic also explains best album wins in the last decade by Ray Charles, Herbie Hancock, and Robert Plant, three amazing artists…many decades ago.
Now in an age of endless libraries of digital music and unlimited access to new sounds, the Recording Academy has continued latching on to the familiar and opting for the most painfully obvious mainstream artists.
Is a Grammy a prestigious reward or a reward for prestige? The Grammy awards have now embraced a parallel relationship with the music industry and the billboard charts. They’re still giving the upper hand to chart-toppers and former chart-toppers, even if the latter’s most recent effort is less than stellar. There’s no predictability and anticipation for future awards shows. The excitement is simply sucked out of the spectacle.
Despite this verbal lashing, the Grammys have come a long way to be where they are right now. No one is outraged, as most of the popular musicians are given a chance. High album sales are rewarded with a flash of gold. This brings up the show’s biggest problem. The “best” albums of the year aren’t always going to be the highest grossing (sometimes they’re the most highly advertised or most heavily played on the radio). The verdict: in order to have an exciting and satisfying awards show, the committee must quit counting their stacks of bills and make an effort to explore under the surface of mainstream music. Only then could they start the trends, not follow them obediently.
At best, the Grammys reward the best-selling artists of the year. At worst, they’re an exclusive, elitist, music industry ass-kissing machine that shoves established musical acts down our throats.
The most obvious example of this was the long transition of rap into an “acceptable” form of art. The rap genre, which had been rolling out big hits and had been a central theme in pop culture since 1980, didn’t have a category for best rap performance until 1989 (best rap album didn’t get included until 1996). Even then, the members of the Recording Academy largely ignored more hardcore hip-hop acts like N.W.A. and embraced the less threatening image of Run D.M.C. The snubbed rappers fired back lyrically, disillusioned that the first two rap Grammys went to the Fresh Prince and Young MC. The committee fanned the flames in 1992 by recognizing the white-friendly Will Smith over the far more talented Public Enemy at the peak of their career. It wasn’t until The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill won album of the year in 1999 that rap music was fully recognized. The committee, however, continues to reward rap acts after their heyday and neglect newer, fresher voices.
Remember what happened in 1992? Nirvana took the music world by storm with their second album Nevermind, and their raging hit single, “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Yet, for reasons unknown to anyone outside the committee, the grunge kings were glossed over for an award. Instead, the awards were swept by an undeserving Eric Clapton. I guess Nirvana didn’t get the memo that Grammys will always go to rock legends past their prime.
The first winner for best hard rock/metal performance in 1988 was widely believed to be going to Metallica, yet, in a cruel twist of fate for all parties involved, Alice Cooper ended up embarrassingly announcing that Jetthro Tull had won the award. That’s right, the same flute-rocking medieval-serenading group that reached the height of their popularity in the 70s.
In 2001, Two Against Nature, by the Steely Dan, won the award over Eminem’s The Marshall Mathers LP and Radiohead’s Kid A: one was forgotten, two became classics. This logic also explains best album wins in the last decade by Ray Charles, Herbie Hancock, and Robert Plant, three amazing artists…many decades ago.
Now in an age of endless libraries of digital music and unlimited access to new sounds, the Recording Academy has continued latching on to the familiar and opting for the most painfully obvious mainstream artists.
Is a Grammy a prestigious reward or a reward for prestige? The Grammy awards have now embraced a parallel relationship with the music industry and the billboard charts. They’re still giving the upper hand to chart-toppers and former chart-toppers, even if the latter’s most recent effort is less than stellar. There’s no predictability and anticipation for future awards shows. The excitement is simply sucked out of the spectacle.
Despite this verbal lashing, the Grammys have come a long way to be where they are right now. No one is outraged, as most of the popular musicians are given a chance. High album sales are rewarded with a flash of gold. This brings up the show’s biggest problem. The “best” albums of the year aren’t always going to be the highest grossing (sometimes they’re the most highly advertised or most heavily played on the radio). The verdict: in order to have an exciting and satisfying awards show, the committee must quit counting their stacks of bills and make an effort to explore under the surface of mainstream music. Only then could they start the trends, not follow them obediently.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Album Review: Transference
Spoon’s Transference is their seventh studio album and their first true release under mainstream scrutiny. It’s never easy following up the best performance in a show. Their previous work, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga was a massive critical and commercial success, not to mention brilliantly composed. They’ve established a reputation for high quality musical output, but the ride to indie stardom was certainly a bumpy one.
Spoon was formed in 1993 by lead singer/guitarist Britt Daniel and drummer Jim Eno in Austin, Texas. Their 1996 debut, Telephono, drew comparisons to Sonic Youth and the Pixies in its punk rock and indie influenced sound. Yet, the band quickly grew into a genre of their own, signing to Elektra Records and releasing A Series of Sneaks, their major-label debut. Following disappointing sales, Spoon was dropped from the label and moved underground, releasing EPs and singles for several years. Since signing with North Carolina indie label Merge Records in 2001, the band has released four critically acclaimed albums, each outselling the last, culminating in 2007's Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga debuting at #10 on the Billboard charts. Facing a burgeoning fan base and thrust in the spotlight, Spoon took several years and tempered expectations before releasing Transference.
It should be acknowledged that this album has several enjoyable offerings. There are a few moments that stand out among the forty-three minutes of wandering explorations of mood and texture and soundscape. “I Saw The Light” starts out as melancholy, shuffling rock, before abruptly taking a u-turn at the halfway mark into a taut, percussive dialogue between piano and guitar. Other highlights include the lead single “Got Nuffin,” a tambourine-tapping, drum-and-bass track in the vein of Beck or Radiohead, and “Is Love Forever?” one of the album’s many romantic lyrical endeavors, fraught with Eno’s bubbly drumming and Daniel’s choppy guitar rhythms.
Yet, for a three-year wait, Transference is disappointingly bland. The all-important catchy hooks and sing-along choruses are conspicuously absent. The result is a stripped-down and meandering effort that resembles a bundle of hastily recorded studio jams. Spoon has always had that x-factor that makes their music extraordinarily easy to listen to, but as much as Transference should be the culmination of a rapid rise to the top through songwriting maturity and creativity, it falls flat in excitement and fails to break new musical ground. Perhaps it was the high expectations, perhaps the band wanted to eschew the poppiness of Ga, but Transference is a musical lapse of an album with a majority of filler and a minority of quality.
Spoon "You Got Yr Cherry Bomb" from Ryan Junell on Vimeo.
Spoon was formed in 1993 by lead singer/guitarist Britt Daniel and drummer Jim Eno in Austin, Texas. Their 1996 debut, Telephono, drew comparisons to Sonic Youth and the Pixies in its punk rock and indie influenced sound. Yet, the band quickly grew into a genre of their own, signing to Elektra Records and releasing A Series of Sneaks, their major-label debut. Following disappointing sales, Spoon was dropped from the label and moved underground, releasing EPs and singles for several years. Since signing with North Carolina indie label Merge Records in 2001, the band has released four critically acclaimed albums, each outselling the last, culminating in 2007's Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga debuting at #10 on the Billboard charts. Facing a burgeoning fan base and thrust in the spotlight, Spoon took several years and tempered expectations before releasing Transference.
It should be acknowledged that this album has several enjoyable offerings. There are a few moments that stand out among the forty-three minutes of wandering explorations of mood and texture and soundscape. “I Saw The Light” starts out as melancholy, shuffling rock, before abruptly taking a u-turn at the halfway mark into a taut, percussive dialogue between piano and guitar. Other highlights include the lead single “Got Nuffin,” a tambourine-tapping, drum-and-bass track in the vein of Beck or Radiohead, and “Is Love Forever?” one of the album’s many romantic lyrical endeavors, fraught with Eno’s bubbly drumming and Daniel’s choppy guitar rhythms.
Yet, for a three-year wait, Transference is disappointingly bland. The all-important catchy hooks and sing-along choruses are conspicuously absent. The result is a stripped-down and meandering effort that resembles a bundle of hastily recorded studio jams. Spoon has always had that x-factor that makes their music extraordinarily easy to listen to, but as much as Transference should be the culmination of a rapid rise to the top through songwriting maturity and creativity, it falls flat in excitement and fails to break new musical ground. Perhaps it was the high expectations, perhaps the band wanted to eschew the poppiness of Ga, but Transference is a musical lapse of an album with a majority of filler and a minority of quality.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
The Band That Everyone Should Be Listening To
Chromeo describes itself as “the only successful Arab/Jewish collaboration since the beginning of time.” That type of humor is typical for Dave 1 (David Macklovitch) and P-Thugg (Patrick Gemayel), best friends since childhood. They are perfect musical compliments for each other. Dave 1 plays guitar and sings lead vocals while P-Thugg rocks the keyboards, synthesizers, and harmonizes with Dave 1 through his talk box. At first glance, one would find it hard to believe that the lanky and stylish Dave 1 is an undergraduate professor at Columbia (with a Ph.D. in French Literature) and that the chiller than chill Thugg is an accountant. However, when night rolls around, these two French-Canadian electro-funk wizards put on their gear (Thugg: gold grill; Dave: leather jacket) and bust out some of the hardest, funkiest grooves known to man.
The pair released their debut album, She’s In Control in 2004, which gave us the first sweet taste of synth-pop, infectious hooks, witty sarcasm, and an intoxicating brew of Madonna, Prince, and Rick James. The introductory track, “Me & My Man” sums up their intent: “this is the new sound, we came to get down, our name is Chromeo, and we are in control.” They sum up the importance of not living too seriously: “I want to get away, from the problems of the world today, me and my man on a plane, fly away to a better place.” That “better place” is surely the dance floor of a club or Dave 1’s bedroom. The lyrics also suggest that one of them was at the wrong end of a nasty breakup, but never before have breakups been so easy on the ears. “Rage” and “Needy Girl” call out past lovers, but glisten and sparkle with intense, layered synthesizer riffs and driving beats that groove to the core. Yet, despite the indulgent appeal of She’s In Control, there is a lack of emotional control and album coherence. The dark and heavy beats feel confined and calculated, and the instrumental tracks don’t contribute to any coherent theme.
Chromeo’s sophomoric effort, Fancy Footwork, was released in June 2007. The guys take things in the direction of techno-pop, smoothing out their hooks and opening up their beats, which gives the album a funkier, more danceable feel. Instead of being distorted or nonexistent, Dave 1’s voice takes center stage, giving the music a personality that was lacking on many of the tracks on their previous album. It’s clear that Chromeo wants to keep the music as light-hearted as possible. Fancy Footwork is full of novelties. This is evident when Dave 1 calls P-Thugg for advice in an exchange at the end of “My Girl Is Calling Me (A Liar),” and a frustrated girl tries to remember a phone number during a break in the song “Call Me Up.” Chromeo still find discussing breakups necessary (“100%”), but insist on giving a woman the treatment and satisfaction she deserves (“Bonafied Lovin’ (Tough Guys)”). The band has a notable dedication to perfection on this record, not unlike Steely Dan or Hall & Oates (not coincidentally Thugg’s favorite bands).
Chromeo does not suffer from a sophomore slump. They use She’s in Control as a stepping-stone in the construction of their tightly crafted sonic experience, fashioned out of the legacies of their 70’s and 80’s funk and soul forefathers. Fancy Footwork is not going to be remembered in the books as a musical milestone, but it makes you want to get up out of your chair and dance until your feet get sore, which I think is a greater musical achievement.
The pair released their debut album, She’s In Control in 2004, which gave us the first sweet taste of synth-pop, infectious hooks, witty sarcasm, and an intoxicating brew of Madonna, Prince, and Rick James. The introductory track, “Me & My Man” sums up their intent: “this is the new sound, we came to get down, our name is Chromeo, and we are in control.” They sum up the importance of not living too seriously: “I want to get away, from the problems of the world today, me and my man on a plane, fly away to a better place.” That “better place” is surely the dance floor of a club or Dave 1’s bedroom. The lyrics also suggest that one of them was at the wrong end of a nasty breakup, but never before have breakups been so easy on the ears. “Rage” and “Needy Girl” call out past lovers, but glisten and sparkle with intense, layered synthesizer riffs and driving beats that groove to the core. Yet, despite the indulgent appeal of She’s In Control, there is a lack of emotional control and album coherence. The dark and heavy beats feel confined and calculated, and the instrumental tracks don’t contribute to any coherent theme.
CHROMEO: Needy Girl (Wide HQ) from Freedom Factory on Vimeo.
Chromeo’s sophomoric effort, Fancy Footwork, was released in June 2007. The guys take things in the direction of techno-pop, smoothing out their hooks and opening up their beats, which gives the album a funkier, more danceable feel. Instead of being distorted or nonexistent, Dave 1’s voice takes center stage, giving the music a personality that was lacking on many of the tracks on their previous album. It’s clear that Chromeo wants to keep the music as light-hearted as possible. Fancy Footwork is full of novelties. This is evident when Dave 1 calls P-Thugg for advice in an exchange at the end of “My Girl Is Calling Me (A Liar),” and a frustrated girl tries to remember a phone number during a break in the song “Call Me Up.” Chromeo still find discussing breakups necessary (“100%”), but insist on giving a woman the treatment and satisfaction she deserves (“Bonafied Lovin’ (Tough Guys)”). The band has a notable dedication to perfection on this record, not unlike Steely Dan or Hall & Oates (not coincidentally Thugg’s favorite bands).
Chromeo - Tenderoni from Vice Records on Vimeo.
Chromeo does not suffer from a sophomore slump. They use She’s in Control as a stepping-stone in the construction of their tightly crafted sonic experience, fashioned out of the legacies of their 70’s and 80’s funk and soul forefathers. Fancy Footwork is not going to be remembered in the books as a musical milestone, but it makes you want to get up out of your chair and dance until your feet get sore, which I think is a greater musical achievement.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)