RICARDO
VILLALOBOS
Fabric 36
(Fabric)
Late last year, the reigning emperor of minimal techno, Ricardo
Villalobos, turned heads by releasing a 37-minute-long single,
“Fizheuer Zieheuer,” with a B-side, “Fizzbeat,” almost as long
(obviously no actual sides of vinyl records are involved here). So,
having collapsed the distance between the album and the track, the next
natural step for the Chilean-born, Berlin-based producer would seem to
be to break down the walls between the artist album and that pillar of
the electronic music world, the DJ mix; with his entry into Fabric’s
venerable mix series, Villalobos has done exactly that. Fabric
36 is a continuous, DJ-style mix, but all the tracks are new
Villalobos originals or collaborations, making it
both a deep mix
and a new album of sorts.
The mix begins with a minute of typically insectoid percussive
chatter before the pulse beat and acoustic fills of “Perc & Drums”
(how’s that for an apt, utilitarian name?) joins in. On “Moongomery,”
the microscopic clicks give way to unintelligible dream whispers. Funky
bass lines, evolving drums, faint melodies, electronic toms, and
tweaked effects weave in and out of tracks. Vocals appear on “4 Wheel
Drive,” and halfway point “Andruic & Japan” drags lightly drugged
crooning across 12 minutes of hushed bass pops and shifting percussion.
Things mellow into the organ hum of “Prevorent,” and the mumbling
“Fumiyandric 2” until “You Won’t Tell Me” revives the beat for the
street-party anthem “Primer Encuentro Latino-American,” a reworking of
a Latin folk song. Things end with the ecstatic fade
and teasing
keys of “Chropuspel Zündung.”
Throughout, Villalobos exercises the graceful placement and
production that he’s known for. But what’s most interesting about
Fabric 36 is how hard it is to pick out separate, wholly
formed songs. Some tracks seem like works in progress, just a simple
beat or a groove that Villalobos might one day extend into another epic
single. Sonic elements thread in and out in a way that both exposes the
production process and plays with the listener’s expectation for
discrete songs and fixed compositions. It’s more than a DJ mix, more or
less a new album, all made from building blocks that don’t quite amount
to songs, and it’s as satisfying as it is intriguing. ERIC GRANDY
SATURDAY LOOKS GOOD TO ME
Fill Up the Room
(K Records)
Pop music has always had the reputation of being shallow: too many
la la las and not enough substance. But it’s pop’s oh-so-smooth
surfaces that allow sly musicians to indulge the public’s sweet tooth
and subvert its expectations at the same time. That’s exactly what Fred
Thomas—chief songwriter, singer, and musician for Saturday Looks
Good to Me—does on the band’s new album, Fill Up the
Room.
The la la las are definitely present throughout the album,
especially on opener “Apple,” which sounds like a 1950s ballad recorded
in a closet with some drunken friends. Thomas gets more ambitious,
however, with “(Even if You Die on the) Ocean,” a perfect amalgam of
hummable chord progressions, ebullient choruses, and uneasy lyrics that
illuminates a
clever songwriter at the peak of his powers.
Another standout track on this subtly powerful album is “Make a
Plan,” the story of Jenny, a theatrical depressive who would “lose her
mind a sentence at a time,” all told to a bouncy, sing-along melody.
Thomas oscillates between fast and loose, 1960s-tinged summer pop and
slower, more contemplative tunes like the simple, sweet “Peg” and the
stripped-down but lyrically complex “Come with Your Arms,” a duet in
which Thomas’s rough edges are rubbed smooth by the ethereal voice of
Betty Marie Barnes.
In a recent New York Times interview, Bruce Springsteen
described pop as “the longing, the unrequited longing for that perfect
world.” That failure to find the perfect world is where pop asserts its
depth. It’s true that these pretty songs aren’t ultimately going to
change the world that Thomas calls “the hardest place I’ve ever been.”
But the force of their powerful longing transports listeners—even
if only for minutes—to a different world, still imperfect
perhaps, but profoundly beautiful. CHRIS McCANN
MATTHEW
DEAR
Asa Breed
(Ghostly Int’l)
1/2
Let’s just get this out of the way—Matthew Dear is not a great
vocalist or lyricist. He is, however, a great producer, and his latest
full-length under his own name, Asa Breed, succeeds despite
his weaknesses, confidently occupying the intersection of techno and
pop.
Dear’s 2003 debut, Leave Luck to Heaven, dabbled with
similar territory, surprising many with the inclusion of his own
vocals. “Dog Days” was the easy standout track, highlighting Dear’s
deep, almost robotic monotone over bouncy techno backing. But since
then, the bulk of Dear’s attention has been on Audion and False,
his more straightforward techno guises.
With Asa Breed, Dear moves beyond his previous flirtations
to put pop music in a full-on, techno-armed bear hug. The result is
surprisingly accessible, but it’s done without pandering to some lowest
common denominator. The beats are mechanical, only barely humanized by
Dear’s voice. This results in songs steeped in detachment, resignation,
and an overarching sense of ennui, such as lead single “Deserter.”
In stark contrast, the album’s second single, “Don and Sherri,”
picks up the tempo and optimism, marking the sonic variety that keeps
the album interesting despite Dear’s lack of vocal range. “Will Gravity
Win Tonight?” features distorted, layered vocals over what would make a
stellar minimal techno release, while “Midnight Lovers” will inspire
searches for a TV on the Radio credit in the liner notes.
Despite all of this breadth, Asa Breed isn’t the future of
techno or pop. It’s something entirely more interesting—a record
that shows how the two genres can play well together. DONTE PARKS
Matthew Dear’s Big Hands play Sat Oct 20 at the
Crocodile.
Cinnamon
Clove
Allspice
Nutmeg