There was a time when you couldn't listen to a song without being subliminally affected by Jacques Lu Cont a.k.a. The Thin White Duke a.k.a. Man With Guitar a.k.a. Stuart Price. Around 2005 through 2006, it seemed he was remixing every successful pop song, not to mention producing most of Confessions on a Dance Floor. And now, well now, he is nowhere and remixes are, consequently, receiving the usual ire for sounding like the same pulsating beat repeated for seven minutes. Stuart: The Ingenue Years

Of course, there has been some placation with his remixes of Justice's "D.A.N.C.E.," The Killers' "Human," and Coldplay's "Viva La Vida," but, apart from reinventing some of the more predictable hits of the year, such as Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi," 2009 has offered little in exhibiting the talents of Monsieur Lu Cont (and I mean, come on, when you start out with shit like "Paparazzi," it is only to be expected that a bigger pile of shit is going to emerge from the other side of the remix factory's pipeline). What I want is something more, or at least a return to the Les Rythmes Digitales (and don't tell me that Darkdancer is an album that could only exist in the late 90s haze of clubland. The past decade has been formless enough to accept any musical genre).

"Don't just sit there dreaming (dreaming): Dance!"

Then there is Zoot Woman to consider. Ordinarily, the delightful beats and accompanying lyrics about grey days, the lives of models, and Snow White parables would help me forget all of the other musical feats Lu Cont is capable of surmounting, but their third album, Things Are What They Used To Be, is taking a goddamn eternity to come out. I can only listen to "We Won't Break" so many times before, yes, I actually will break from not being able to hear anything else from the album.

One of many catty remarks on Madonna's reliance on Stuart for 2005

And even when the complete Zoot Woman album finally does become available, I just don't think it will satisfy my craving for the solo stylings of Stuart Price. I don't know whether to blame the man himself for having a life, no doubt a lovely one spent gallivanting throughout the finer parts of London (maybe even frequenting The Punch Bowl, I don't know), or maybe I should chastise his management for not at least having the good sense to release a retrospective of his remixes.