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