HOT CHIP
Made in the Dark
(DFA/Astralwerks)
In the initial moments of Made in the Dark, you can just
barely hear a cheering carnival crowd and a rollercoaster clicking
uphill as the detuned synths of “Out at the Pictures” fade in.
Appropriately, Hot Chip’s third full-length is both a festive party and
a thrilling series of ups
and downs.
From the giddy anticipation of the intro track, the album dives into
a run of dance-floor bangers. “Shake a Fist” plays Todd Rundgren’s
“sounds of the studio” game, sneaking the tinkling chimes of “Over
& Over” in between the genuinely startling synth stabs. Lead single
“Ready for the Floor” is an office-rock anthem, a romantic call to
wallflowers hung on the odd, pep-talk refrain of “You’re my number-one
guy.” “Bendable Poseable” is a sinister and funky anatomical twister,
the first of a few songs on the album to deal in darkly comic combat
images (themes that climax in the tensely rollicking “Hold On” and
resolve with the relaxed absurdities of “Wrestlers”).
Other lyrics reveal anxieties about heaven and hell and a
preoccupation with minding life’s gaps (“There are holes in what we
do/There is a hole between me and you”). This latter tack is a marked
change from Coming on Strong, an album that delighted in its
own
distance from the hiphop and R&B it sampled.
The title track is a trad-soul ballad that highlights singer Alexis
Taylor’s delicate vocals. “One Pure Thought” is the surprise hit of the
album, a song that perfectly synthesizes all the best of Hot
Chip—sly, referential rhymes that’ll have you Googling “Nile
Rogers”; wicked club thump; Graceland-inspired lilts and
harmonies; the
interplay of Taylor’s fey croon and Joe Goddard’s
baritone bluster. The album loses some steam after “Don’t Dance” with a
pair of plodding ballads, but still, Made in the Dark is a
great ride.
ERIC GRANDY
JUSTICE
Justice Xmas Mix
(self-released)
This is why Justice conquer and why they divide: The guys just do
not give a fuck. On top of all the other transgressions that have made
them either the saviors or the destroyers of electronic
music—Christian iconography, fake modular synths and Marshall
stacks at their live shows, inescapable pop hooks and metal
riffs—comes this DJ mix, commissioned and then rejected by
prestigious London nightclub/label Fabric for their Fabriclive series.
Officially, Fabric rejected the mix because it’s too short at 44
minutes, but Justice’s Xavier de Rosnay, in an interview with a
Norwegian newspaper (translated on Pitchfork), claimed, “We
didn’t want to do just another boring mix, so we put together a
selection of tunes we absolutely love, mainly weird disco tracks and
French novelty acts. But Fabric turned it down. They weren’t ready for
something like this. Maybe we’ll put the mix out ourselves. People
should really hear it; they’d be surprised.” (Ed Banger sent out
limited copies to friends of the label as a Christmas present.)
Of course, the day after Pitchfork reported it, the mix was all over
the blogs. “Christmas” and “Justice” shot near the top of Hype
Machine’s “most searched” terms. What’s most surprising isn’t the track
selection (more on that in a sec) or that Justice would leak the mix
themselves (repeat: they do not give a fuck), but that
Fabric
turned this mix down in the first place.
The mix hits a couple obvious marks—Goblin’s “Tenebrae” (the
basis for Justice’s “Phantom”), Daft Punk, Uffie (here brilliantly
blended with Chic’s “Everybody Dance”)—but mostly it unearths the
sublimely bizarre. Sparks’s Moroder-aided “Tryouts for the Human Race”
kicks things off. Korgis’s original version of “Everybody’s Gotta Learn
Sometime” (covered by Beck for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless
Mind) clears the floor for a few minutes. Zoot Woman mixes into
the Fucking Champs. The mix wraps up with Frank Stallone’s inexplicable
Staying Alive theme, “Far from Over,” and Todd fucking
Rundgren.
It’s ridiculous fun, diverse, and goofy—and marked by grinning
flashes of touched genius. Fabric fucked up.
ERIC GRANDY
CHRIS WALLA
Field Manual
(Barsuk)
1/2
Chris Walla’s solo debut starts with a captivating choir comprising
his voice layered and a cappella—he, himself, and him beautifully
sing, “All hail an imminent collapse/You can fumble for your maps/But
we’re exhausted by the facts.”
It’ll stop you when you hear it—you’ll listen closely, you’ll
want to hear exactly what the hymnal voices are singing. The song is
called “Two-Fifty,” and it’s the perfect track to open Field
Manual, an exaggerated introduction to a record saturated with
pretty sounds.
As early Death Cab for Cutie shows, facing off against the cherubic
Ben Gibbard, Walla’s attempts at background vocals sounded weak and
uncomfortable. At least once, he even giggled a little while singing,
apparently aware that he was out of tune and maybe not fit
for
harmonizing.
But that was years ago. Field Manual proves Walla has
learned to work with what he’s got. His voice is breathy and gentle
(and in tune) and not unlike Gibbard’s. But it’s his trademark glorious
production that makes the songs on Field Manual sing. His
mixes here are impeccable—every sound is thoughtful and
delicately balanced.
“Geometry &c.” showcases infectious pop with bright guitars and
da dee dum hooks, while “The Score” summons up Superdrag. The
brokenhearted “Holes,” ends the record on the opposite note of where it
began, with just a lone Walla, his guitar, and a little bit of piano.
The simple ballad is the best display of his voice on the entire
record. Turns out Walla can sing after all. MEGAN SELING
Ortolan
Foie Gras
Veal
Hector
