Thankfully, I grew out of all this before trying any Ian Curtis rope tricks of my own. Why I transformed from a sad crypto-goth to a sensitive, cozy boy in eight years is a question best left to my psychiatrist. Regardless, I'm now the sensitive type. I wear lots of sweaters, I read the Atlantic Monthly, and I'm not afraid to cry. Although discovering dance music has pulled me into a different funk altogether, I still have a soft spot for touchy-feely beats, house you can cuddle or cry to.
In the "tears of joy" department, years of ecstasy use and free love made for plenty of sickly sweet music: Ultramarine's 1992 LP Every Man and Woman Is a Star (Elektra) is a folksy and cute piece of electro-folk that evokes, depending on your mood, a picnic in the sun or a porn flick. Five years later, Air touch on the same themes with one long vocoder-ed bear-hug of a record. Moon Safari (Astralwerks) is an Air Supply for the late '90s; it's an album for lovers. Liane Sommers' and Andrea Palladio's vocals make Shantel's 1997 Higher than the Funk (Studio K7) a refreshing aural Altoid, and when he's taking his medication, u-Ziq's Mike Paradinas turns out cutesy music-box beats.
The new album from London's Add N To X, also, takes hilarity and a love for outrageously squidgy drum sounds to new heights. Ever imagine Robbie the Robot having his butt tickled by a plethora of squealing electronic mice? No? Now's your chance.
On the darker side, there's plenty to choose from. The inevitable ecstasy burnout and rockification of dance music made room for plenty of dark, sad beats. DJ Shadow has his tearful moments on Endtroducing... (Mo' Wax) and Bristol's Smith & Mighty cover Burt Bacharach tunes to create their lonely vibe. Producer John Beltran borrows from classical and world music to create his electronic listening music, and much of his 1994 LP Earth and Nightfall (R&S) touches on wistful, longing themes. And, of course, there's Portishead, who are to the next generation what Joy Division were to mine, a cartoonishly sad crew who'll become suburban demigods once one of them suffers a tragic death.
Although most dance music is all about dressing up, sniffing glue, and getting down, plenty of dance producers still make delicate, sensitive beats, ideal for us fuzzy-wuzzy types. Such music doesn't lend itself well to the happy-go-lucky dance floors of the '90s, but it's still going strong, subsidized by lonely suburbanites and sad cases such as myself. So if you're looking to get down with your inner child, pick up a few of these LPs, light a fire and stare at the rain for a while. It's okay, let it all out.
