1 + 1 = 2. Hopefully, we all learned that in preschool.
Bands—real bands, rock bands—have more than two members.
Four or five… maybe three in a pinch. But not just two. We’ve all
learned that from reruns of The Monkees, royalty squabbles
between the Smiths, and the buzz over every reunion tour. Nobody needs
a textbook to recognize that Page and Plant doing MTV Unplugged does not equal Led Zeppelin. Crown Heights, New York, duo
Ratatat—multi-instrumentalists Mike Stroud and Evan “E*Vax”
Mast—have spent the last few years wriggling around this logic,
with varying degrees of success.
“We’re not the most professional outfit,” admits Stroud today,
apropos of their tour preparation. “We don’t rent out a studio and get
onstage or anything. We’re pretty laid-back.”
In the beginning, that easygoing attitude showed. The stripped-down
grooves and surging fuzz guitar of their 2004 eponymous debut sounded
good on the dance floor, but the band struggled to sustain interest
live, where their mellow-bordering-on-static performances—no
seam-splitting choreography or mind-blowing special effects, just two
dudes playing their instruments—did little to enhance the
material.
But Ratatat quickly adapted. The writing of their second album, the
markedly improved Classics, was informed by what did—and
didn’t—get live audiences pumped up. With its more defined sense
of melody, Classics also confirmed what their self-released
remixes of hiphop tracks by Jay-Z and Kanye West hinted at: Their
slinky sound packed more punch when anchored by a focal point.
With their latest album, LP3, the duo continue to explore new
ways of making an impact. From fluid Spanish guitar licks on “Mi
Viejo,” to the courtly, A Clockwork Orange–style synths
prancing through “Dura,” the album’s 13 tracks support Stroud’s
assertion that even though they work sans vocalists, they definitely
hear voices. “I like to think of the guitar parts as singing, like
listening to the backups on a James Brown track will give me
ideas.”
For LP3, the two had a lot more to draw from than the odd
funk classic. Recording at Old Soul Studios in Catskill, New
York—which they discovered while producing tracks for White
Flight’s second album, White Ark—they were inspired by its
vast arsenal of vintage instruments, particularly keyboards: grand
piano, Wurlitzer organ, mellotron. Just two guys, but with
near-limitless possibilities.
“If you got an idea, there were so many options,” says Stroud. “That
made a huge difference. It seemed refreshing to sit down at an
unfamiliar instrument, like a harpsichord. The keys are so small, and
it feels funny playing it. It’s a different frame of mind. And that
gave me new ideas.”
One timbre that pops up repeatedly on LP3 might seem more at
home on a Carter Family platter: the autoharp. “Evan bought one just
before we went into the studio, and we tried it out the first night
there.” Initially, they worried the folksy instrument sounded too
celestial, like cherubim and seraphim were fluttering
overhead—”everything sounded very… heavenly”—but
they soon found ways to make it work. The zing of its humble strings
fits right in on “Shiller,” though that cut’s overall mood is more Alan
Parsons than Appalachian, and even finds an unlikely home on “Falcon
Jab,” a talkbox-enhanced party jam à la Daft Punk.
The duo also decided to go easy on the programmed beats and
implement more live percussion. Stroud purchased some inexpensive
tablas from an Indian store near his Brooklyn home. Finger cymbals and
a friction drum, a weird hybrid somewhere between a bowed string
instrument and traditional thump-thump percussion, helped generate the
Mouse on Mars–goes-Bollywood groove of “Mirando.”
Then there’s the zarb (also known as a tonbak), a
Persian music staple. “It’s an Iranian drum,” says Stroud. Ratatat were
turned on to the instrument via an album by the Chemirani Trio, a
father and two sons who have helped elevate the zarb’s international
profile. “It is a simple instrument, just a drum, but they get hundreds
of sounds from it. We listened to their music a bunch, and just freaked
out… so Evan got a zarb.”
Don’t be fooled by the exotic percussion; Ratatat have not veered
into world-music jam-band territory. The new tracks are admirably
succinct, averaging around three and a half minutes. “I have no
interest in playing droning dance music,” says Stroud. “Unless it’s
some genius piece of classical music, it’s a little rude to presume
people want to hear a 10-minute instrumental. I like melodies. I like
songs.”
But did the duo stick to the lessons learned with Classics?
In other words, with so many toys used in the studio, will LP3 lend itself any better to live performance? “Not really, actually,”
admits Stroud. “Maybe at the end of the day, you’d listen to a song and
think, ‘Oh, I can play that live.’ But while writing, that didn’t even
occur to me.”
“There are so many sounds we can’t really re-create, without being
in the actual studio,” he concludes. He sounds nonplussed. “We’ve
always had that problem with our band. It’s nothing new. We’ll figure
something out.” As on previous tours, a third person will be tagging
along to play organ and other instruments. And although the zarb may
stay home, Stroud says, “We’re definitely going to bring out the
autoharp.” Fingers crossed, it will all add up. 
