ALTER EGO
Why Not?!
(Klang)
Alter Ego, the German duo of Roman Flügel and Jörn Elling
Wuttke, have been producing electronic music for more than a decade,
but they didn’t make a popular impact until 2004 with the release of
club anthem “Rocker.” The track’s name, as well as the heavy-metal
guitars sublimated in its squealing portamento synths, placed the duo
in that fertile (but not yet overcultivated) crescent between rock and
techno. If Justice are the Christians, then Alter Ego are the
Sumerians: Without “Rocker” there would be no “Waters of Nazareth.”
In the three years since “Rocker” and the full-length that contained
it, the formidable Transphormer, Alter Ego’s brand of
aggressive drum machinery and growling synths has ushered in a flood of
like-minded producers, many clustered around the Ed Banger and
Kitsuné labels. So where does that leave Flügel and
Wuttke?
Judging by their new album, Alter Ego aren’t feeling inundated;
rather, they’re floating along on the high tide with the same crushing
sound and acidic humor as always.
The 74-minute, 11-track Why Not?! is front-loaded with the
ridiculously fun title track, a pitch-sliding techno banger tied to an
unmistakable Bavarian beer hall oom-pah, and the lush Tubeway Army
tribute of “Gary.” These are more jovial songs than anything from
Transphormer, and they set a lighter mood for the new album.
The drunk swerving of “Fuckingham Palace” and the synthetically
chuckling “Jolly Joker” only heighten that mood.
The album loses some steam heading into the halfway point with the
acid workout of “Queen Anne’s Revenge,” and a problem starts to reveal
itself: Alter Ego, for all their good humor, make some seriously
punishing techno. It might work best in smaller doses.;/p>
With the exception of the squawking “Chicken Shag” and the air horns
and artificial fog of “Pleasure Island,” the album’s second half works
into a less grueling but still rewarding groove. You just might want to
give yourself a break before
flipping the record over.
ERIC
GRANDY
VARIOUS ARTISTS
Discovered: A Collection of Daft Funk Samples
(BBE)
1/2
There’s a simple, reliable metric for measuring collections of songs
that have been sampled by other people: Would you rather hear the
original song, or the song that sampled it? In the case of
Discovered, which brings together a dozen tracks that are
mostly best known for having provided raw source material for Daft
Punk’s three studio albums (as well as “Music Sounds Better with You,”
the monster single Daft Punk’s Thomas Bangalter made as Stardust in
1998, which samples this collection’s “Fate,” by Chaka Khan), the
answer is
usually the same: Bring on the robots.
That isn’t to say that Discovered is devoid of pleasure,
especially if you’re in need of an overview of late-’70s/early-’80s
second-tier disco and R&B. Occasionally, it’s better than that:
Cerrone’s “Supernature” (utilized for “Verdis Quo”) is classic disco
camp at its most glossy-epic; George Duke’s wispy “I Love You More”
(“Digital Love”) is gawkily charming; and
Breakwater’s “Release
the Beast,” while clunky, still outclasses its Daft progeny, “Robot
Rock.”
But listening to Discovered also makes you realize that
Daft Punk are an even better production team than you might have
realized. Better listeners, anyway: Sure, they swiped huge, obviously
recognizable chunks of Little Anthony & the Imperials’ “Can You
Imagine” and Edwin Birdsong’s “Cola Bottle Baby” for “Crescendolls” and
“Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger,” respectively, but they also
bolstered, tweaked, and manipulated them to sing in ways that the
originals simply don’t. That’s the secret of sampling: transforming
what you started with until you make it your own. It’s hard to believe
most of the tracks on Discovered would be well remembered,
even by rare-disco fiends,
if Daft Punk hadn’t done
just
that. MICHAELANGELO MATOS
“AWESOME”
Beehive Sessions
(Self-released)
“Awesome” are a great band to book for your literary events, book
readings, fundraisers, what have you. They’ll write a song just for the
occasion, incorporating an author’s text, or your nonprofit
organization’s mission statement. The seven-piece band—which
includes traditional rock instruments as well as banjo, brass, strings,
piano, glockenspiel, and theremin—are talented enough to pull
this sort of thing off with considerable charm. Plus they’ll dress up
for the occasion. They’re also up for scoring the odd bit of musical
theater, and they have the distinction of getting to Delaware before Sufjan Stevens.
It’s a shame, then, that their new album, Beehive Sessions,
finds “Awesome” without anything as solid as an author or a state to
celebrate. Without the context of an occasion, their riffs on
communication, cellular biology, and the human hive make for an uneven
listen. The musicianship is flawless throughout, but the songwriting
doesn’t always keep up. For every satisfying, freestanding pop piece
(“Shape Song,” “Sherrie,” “Memory Leak,” “Anthem”) there’s a song that
feels like it’s missing its accompanying stage show (“Ones &
Zeroes,” “Telephone,” “Cell Song”). “Awesome” are a sharp band, but
they remain musical theater first, pop music second. ERIC GRANDY
OPERATION IVY
Operation Ivy
(Hellcat)
The best thing Operation Ivy ever did for us was break up.
For almost 15 years now, Operation Ivy, the posthumous
30-track record released on Lookout! Records almost two years after the
band called it quits, has survived as an authentic snapshot of the
much-romanticized late-’80s to early-’90s Bay Area music scene where
bands like Green Day, Crimpshrine, and Jawbreaker thrived.
Though Op Ivy’s founding members moved on to other
projects—Tim “Lint” Armstrong and Matt Freeman found commercial
success in Rancid while Jesse Michaels teamed up with ex-members of
Squirtgun and Screeching Weasel to form the unmemorable Common
Rider—their music remains untainted by age or later compromises
and mistakes. This month Hellcat Records will rerelease a remastered
version of the record that is one of the best-selling in Lookout!’s
history.
Hearing it now, far removed from the Bay Area scene by both miles
and years, you can still feel the fervor inside a 19-year-old Michaels
as he sings to a pack of sweaty outcasts from the stage at 924 Gilman.
He fearlessly questions authority and calls for social justice, while
his bandmates take cues from the Clash and Madness, bridging the gap
between ska and punk rock. They were and will always be a vital punk
band with brains, big hearts, and an endearing naiveté.
MEGAN SELING
THE PIPETTES
We Are the Pipettes
(Cherry Tree/Interscope)
It’s pointless to review a box of puppies. What do you look for to
criticize? Even their flaws are adorable. The Pipettes debut is a box
of puppies.
The backstory: The Pipettes are a trio of conventionally attractive
girls from Brighton, England. There’s a blond vixen, a brunette
librarian, and a dark-haired girl next door. Their LBJ-era girl-group
pop is a studiously recycled version of the golden oldies station your
parents used to listen to when they picked you up from school: “Be My
Baby” and “He’s So Fine” and “Leader of the Pack.” If you have ears and
you’re not between the ages of 14 and 17, it is impossible to not like
the source material. Your affection for the Pipettes, however, will
come down to politics.
There are social statements to be made here (life during wartime
inspires retreat into the gilded past, there’s nothing new under the
sun, manufactured art is a safe investment, etc.), but they’re not
worth belaboring. Deep analysis is not part of the Pipettes aesthetic.
Like all good pop, the Pipettes are best appreciated at face value.
There’s nothing by way of sonic updates; the backing band, called the
Cassette, pilfers just about every girl group trope in Phil Spector’s
playbook—the big drums,
the trebly reverbed guitar twang,
the horn and string flourishes, the stupid/brilliant songwriting.
The fact is, this stuff is as catchy and solid as the source
material; it’s just not as necessary. Whereas ’60s pop was aimed at
teenagers, the Pipettes are aimed at twentysomething hipsters. In
theory, they’re wrapped in layers of irony and distance, but it’s
possible that the giddy, hand-jive jubilance of would-be hits “Pull
Shapes” and “Your Kisses Are Wasted on Me” strips those layers away.
You’d think there’s 21st-century bite in songs with titles like “Sex”
and “One Night Stand,” but you’d be wrong. There’s nothing but adorable
perkiness here. A box of puppies, I tell you.
JONATHAN ZWICKEL
The Pipettes play Thurs Nov 1 at the Crocodile.
Ronnie
Bobby
Ricky
Mike
