The Scissor Sisters have no problem finding their audience, regardless of how utterly campy they are. Even the album cover of Night Work sets a new precedent for just how much the members of Scissor Sisters don’t give a fuck about decorum or “taste.” Exhibiting a clenched ass with pants tighter than anything Jim Morrison ever wore, Night Work’s cover art is a good indication of the album’s bawdiness.

To quote The Pet Shop Boys, "You're so flamboyant."

Released on June 28th (forgive me father, for I have sinned for not reviewing it earlier), Night Work explores the usual Scissor Sisters themes: Troubled youth, getting dressed in drag queen-like garb to go out, and sex (whether paid for or not). The quality that makes this particular endeavor stand out from The Scissor Sisters’ previous two albums is that Stuart Price was at the helm as producer. You may know his work from a fantastic record called Confessions on a Dance Floor or maybe you know him as Les Rythmes Digitales. And if you don’t, you probably don’t listen to The Scissor Sisters anyway.

Frontpeople Ana Matronic and Jake Shears

Price’s distinctive production style blends well with The Scissor Sisters’ glam rock/electronic sound. The marriage of these two tours de force (yes, that’s the plural of tour de force, like cul de sac is culs de sac) of gay electronic dance music will make you want to burst with sheer elation on the last track of the album, “Invisible Light.” The up and down bassline of “Any Which Way” is also classically Les Rythmes Digitales, as featured on most every track of the 1999 album, Dark Dancer.

From left to right: Randy Real, Babydaddy, Del Marquis, Jake Shears, and Ana Matronic

Night Work, though similar in many ways to The Scissor Sisters’ debut and sophomore albums, is a departure in the sense that it is purely an homage to just having fun, whereas their prior albums always had at least one “message” song on it (i.e. “It Can’t Come Quickly Enough,” a surprisingly non-sexual song from their first album, and the somewhat cheesy songs “Land of a Thousand Words” and “Everybody Wants the Same Thing” on Ta-Dah! The new album’s title alone, Night Work, winkingly suggests fun with its allusion to prostitution.

The oh so glam rock pair of scissors on every Scissor Sisters album

So, to the confused, the transsexual, the homosexual, the heterosexual, and even the asexual, Night Work guarantees everyone to have a good time on the dance floor. Courtesy of Stuart Price.

This review is going to contain a vast amount of foul language. I mean LOT. If this is something that might bother you… well fuck, maybe now would be a good time to stop reading!

Out of all the musical acts who enjoy overwhelmingly and seemingly unconditionally positive critical acclaim and hype,  there is a certain subset of which that seem to receive this on account of mere chance. How does a group of critics suddenly decide that say, the Arctic Monkeys, for example, are the next big thing? A run-of-the-mill indie rock band tossing off boring ass attempts at dance and garage rock? What the fuck is so interesting about it, other than how unusually watered down the songs are? The answer, naturally, is sweet jack shit. Now is James Murphy’s dance project, LCD Soundsystem, as glaring a nude emperor as the aforementioned? Not quite, no. He has been known to come up with pretty catchy melodies, and on occasion has even crafted songs that border on brilliant. I’ve always found his music relatively enjoyable, but nothing really special, and certainly nothing worthy of the breathless Pitchfork reviews that require a wiping clean of the ejaculate in order to see the 9.2 ratings more clearly. So when I heard Murphy declare that his third (and apparently final) album, This Is Happening, would be “definitely better than the other two,” I was fairly excited, hoping that maybe this time around I would be able to see just what all the fuss is about.

Yeah let's all dance sideways 'cause it's so cool

The conclusion? As far as I can tell, This Is Happening has three things going for it-

1) Dance Yrself Clean, despite losing its momentum toward the end on account of running a few minutes too long, is a great opener.

2) There is a fair amount of diversity to the tracks.

3) On occasion, Murphy nails the layering of sounds quite well.

As far as I can tell, it also has three key problems-

1) The album is incredibly self-indulgent.

2) There is a recurring theme of repeating ideas he’s already done better.

3) It’s complete BULLSHIT.

Augh... hey barista? Yeah, the cup's stuck to my lip again

We’re all familiar with great albums that have been hyped way too much, and thus their impact is lessened considerably. This Is Happening is a mediocre album to begin with, but is has more than just bounds of hype to ruin it – in fact, it successfully highlights a number of irritating things that I despise most about hipster-centric albums. So instead of laying into this album with a traditional review, I am going to use it as a way to demonstrate and explain many of the shitty things these kinds of records frequently pull.

I’m Self Deprecating, So I Must Be Clever

What is it about being an ironic smart ass that makes people think they’re suddenly hot shit? I couldn’t hazard a guess as to how many times I’ve been to a show like this, drinking and dancing with my friends, and looking over to see people just standing there, arms folded across their chest. Why? Isn’t the point of going to a concert to have fun? APPARENTLY NOT, the point is so that you can silently observe, and take in how interesting it all is. These are the kinds of people who respond to Murphy’s “You wanted the time, but maybe I can’t do the time, oh we both know that’s an awful line,” with a snarky nod, as if to express that they get what he’s really saying. Or how about that other gem, “Love is an open book, to a verse of your bad poetry, and this is coming from me.” Get it? Because I am infamous for my shitty lyrics! So calling attention to it is clever, right? Well, not really, no.. it just makes them even more obnoxious. Funnily enough, the album’s lyrical whipping post has been lead single Drunk Girls, which is baffling – is “Drunk girls wait an hour to pee” a very bright line? No, but neither is “The jocks can’t get in the door, when Daft Punk is playing at my house” or “Oh I don’t know, I don’t know, oh where to begin, when we’re North American.” It’s dance music, for fuck’s sake! Since when did it hinge on the bad lyrics, particularly when they have become a trademark for an artist? Dumb lyrics will always have a place in dance music; lyrics that are overly pleased with themselves will not.

My Influences Are Good, So I Must Be Good Too

A bit of fetishism for 70s and 80s music isn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but when you’re lifting a style (or worse yet, actual melodies) from your source of inspiration and adding nothing of an individual mark to it, what’s the point? Such is the case with All I Want, which basically takes David Bowie’s slightly altered Heroes, warm 70s guitars, and a wild synth thrown in near the end. So really, what makes this his own, other than the moping he does throughout the six minutes? Then there’s the erratic Pow Pow, taking a David Byrne stream-of-consciousness style delivery, and talking utter nonsense. When you hear songs like these, your first impulse shouldn’t be to turn it off and just go listen to the fucking bands that inspired them instead! And furthermore, both of these songs are prime examples of recycled LCD Soundsystem ideas – All I Want is trying to go for the mournful atmosphere that Murphy nailed on Someone Great, but fails, mainly because Someone wasn’t a contrived piece of shit. Pow Pow is trying to showcase just how eccentric Murphy apparently would like to appear, which was fine on tracks like Losing My Edge, where the evolving music took the forefront, but here the music is buried behind Murphy! And what for? Did he think his random shit musings were that interesting? Who the fuck knows.

My Songs Are Long, So They Must Be Well Thought Out

I will be the first to admit that Murphy has some great ideas here. For example, One Touch is extremely dark and brooding, with a throbbing, palpably sexual beat and a relatively interesting (though a bit drawn out) deconstruction at the end. That’s a great foundation, but then there are five minutes in between where virtually nothing happens. The beat is repeated underneath a tedious verse, to a chorus differentiated from said verse by ONE new element, then a needless breakdown separating it from ANOTHER tedious verse. I Can Change starts out with great aquatic symths over a solid beat, and his vocals are surprisingly compelling. But does the song go anywhere? Does it fuck. There are two parts to the song that are repeated throughout its six minutes, and while being one of the shorter tracks, its lack of ideas prevents it from feeling as such. The fact that the earlier noted Pow Pow is over eight fucking minutes long is a testament to just how self-indulgent This Is Happening really is. If your music repeats itself constantly, or worse yet just runs free with no rhyme or reason to anything at all for absurd periods of time, well done. You have sucked your own cock on record, and people have paid to listen to it. Fuck you.

This Album Is Shit

This is the most important point of all. The only really good thing I can say about This Is Happening, Dance Yrself Clean withstanding, is that it’s made me appreciate his first two albums more. He had a much better grasp on how long his hooks could last before getting old, and he felt a lot more genuine, randomly talking about subjects from heartache to partying. Despite the vast amount of filler that plague each Sound of Silver and his self titled debut, they can provide fun listens; like I said, nothing special, but perfectly respectable music. Here, Murphy overuses his ideas and more often than not comes across as far too pleased with himself, ultimately squandering his best qualities, and making an album of songs that call to mind the filler tracks that dragged down his earlier work. Beyond This Is Happening’s few positive traits, tedious song lengths, old ideas, and an obnoxious persona make whatever the hell is happening sound pretty shitty.

Los Angeles received a great deal of acclaim when it dropped back in 2008, and deservedly so; Flying Lotus had produced an outstanding collection of instrumental hip-hop tracks which not only blended well together, but hinted at a great diversity in influences. No one imagined, however, that it would hint at a diversity as monstrous as that presented on Cosmogramma, his latest effort. Flying Lotus (born Steven Ellison) really cuts loose here, and draws from a multitude of musical stylings, but as huge and full as the sound gets on this album, it never sounds self-indulgent or over-the-top, and that is largely where its genius lies.

Sunspots? Those are gay.

Cosmogramma is packed with ideas to the point of being staggering, yet somehow maintains a superb balance with pop sensibilities so as to keep the music’s unbridled imagination smooth, controlled, and appealing. Pickled! and Nose Art serve as a brilliant example of this, firstly in how seamlessly they bleed into one another (I’ll get back to this) but even more in the juxtaposition of fun hip-hop beats, ethereal atmosphere, and catchy melodies. Nose Art in particular boasts a gorgeous, airy feel, floating over clanging percussion, with a beat that sounds like a meld of hip-hop and house, and a very in your face electro hook. Not only are the basic sounds vastly different, but each sensibility is so strong that the listener almost feels pulled in multiple directions – it’s so beautiful, but it’s so aggressive, and equally addictive in each regard. Free form jazz is abundant throughout, but is so well interlocked with funk, hip-hop, house, trip-hop, and even psychedelia (this list could go on and on, the sheer number of  influences FlyLo manages to fit in here is astounding unto itself) find a curious balance and elevate the sound on Cosmogramma as not so much a great instrumental hip-hop album as an entirely new genre altogether.

FlyLo makes great use of the guest vocalists here, as well. Thom Yorke lends his voice to And the World Laughs with You, an alluringly sinister cut, but more to harmonize than sing, really, crooning along with the spacey, psychedelic synths in between a plea of “I need to know you’re out there, I need to know you’re listening” that borders on indifference. Laura Darlington shines in another understated performance on Table Tennis, a track built around ping pong ball sound effects and an acoustic guitar.

As mentioned before, another strong point of Cosmogramma is its spectacular pacing and flow. Mmmhmm and Do the Astral Plane, for instance, should not go this well together. The former is a plethora of sad sounding synths layered over a funky bass and echo heavy guitar, with such a coldness that it gives one images of flying out into space. The underlying beat, however, keeps it not only from slipping into heavy melancholy, but upbeat enough that you don’t notice the scat-laced interlude leading into Astral Plane, and once the pulsating, house-y beat kicks in, it feels as if it shouldn’t have been any other way. German Haircut‘s nearly unadulterated jazz eases into the busy ambient house-meets-IDM of Recoiled in a similarly flawless fashion, and so on, and so forth… there is simply no out of place moment here. And considering that this is over seventeen tracks covering a massive plethora of genres, it really is quite a feat.

Why do my fingers taste funny? ...oh yeah, that's right..

What makes Cosmogramma so great is that it really reminds us of not only what electronic music is capable of, but why it’s come to be in the first place. There’s a reason that rock bands like Radiohead and the Flaming Lips have turned to electronics over the course of their musical evolution; it’s a means of expressing ideas that simply can’t be by organic means, ideas that stretch the imagination past what human limitations will allow. It’s become too easy to see it as a refuge of laziness in recent years, and Flying Lotus’ latest is unshakable evidence to the contrary.

Like its simplistic album title, /\/\ /\ Y /\, heretofore to be referred to as Maya (because it takes a lot of fucking effort to type out the hieroglyphic emblem), opens with the equally simplistic, fifty-seven second “The Message.” Though I usually hate it when artists use intros to start their album since it’s generally just a way to make it look like there are more tracks than there really are, it actually works as a nice transition to track 2 on the record (yes, I say record. Fuck you, digitalism), called “Steppin Up.” This finds us in the familiar electro sound MIA promoted on her debut, Arular. Following that is the second single from the album, “XXXO,” recently remixed by Jay-Z to ensure success.

MIA doesn't just make prophetic music, she wears prophetic t-shirts too

Some listeners have had mixed feelings about the deliberate and generic pop sound of “XXXO,” but doubts about MIA’s musical fearlessness are immediately assuaged by the futuristic beats of “Teqkilla,” a song that sounds like something you might hear if there were jungles in space (and who’s to say there aren’t, really?). After “Teqkilla,” “Story to Be Told” takes us to another far off place, beginning with the jets of a plane taking off and MIA’s voice ethereally echoing, “All I ever wanted was my story to be told.” It is easily one of the best cuts off the album.

Sri Lanka, bitches!

“It Takes a Muscle” changes the entire tone of the album midway through, altering the mood to the tranquil ambience of relaxing on a beach (preferably one in southern Italy). “It Iz What It Iz” continues this sound with a somewhat 80s backing track for the music. However, while musically enjoyable, it gets kind of old to just hear her repeat “It iz what it iz/This is how I feel” without realizing that there’s more to a song than just a chorus.

MIA's album cover: A tongue in cheek homage to YouTube and the 21st century

Next is another single from the album, “Born Free,” already well-known for the video being briefly removed from YouTube due to some graphically violent imagery (but really, is there anything the American public hasn’t seen already?). This is the track that truly ignited the fever for MIA’s album release, a thesis for what was to come–not just musically, but also in terms of MIA’s extremely vocal opinions about life in the twenty-first century, including the assertion that Google and Facebook are implements of the CIA (um, totally agreed).

Portrait of a Lady

“Meds and Feds” is probably the only song with a rock vibe out of all the tracks, contrasted by the succeeding song, “Tell Me Why,” making use of MIA’s actual singing talent as opposed to her knack for harsh shouting. Maya concludes with the airy and tenuous modulations of “Space,” a perfect disunion from how the album began. Because MIA is all about confusing and discombobulating the expected order.

After every single song on Uffie’s MySpace has been run into the ground, it seems well-timed that Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans should showcase a handful of new tracks, though a considerable percentage of that previously unreleased material falls into the run into the ground MySpace category I just mentioned (“Pop the Glock,” “First Love,” and “MCs Can Kiss” are all present and accounted for). So, after getting married, divorced, and having a somewhat unplanned pregnancy, Uffie was at last ready to contemplate creating a few new songs for her album debut.

"Bad ass bitch, I'm rated X."

It’s indicative of some kind of star quality that Uffie has been riding on the success of the same six songs since she began her recording career in 2005. Basically, “Pop the Glock,” “First Love,” “MCs Can Kiss,” “Dismissed,” and “Robot Oeuf” (from the Los Abrazos Rotos Soundtrack, proving Pedro Almodovar’s artistic dexterity with choosing amazing songs to take drugs to) have allowed her to parlay her way into a full-length album while still finding ample time to enjoy Parisian nightlife.

"All you've got is your mom bringing you fuckin' cookies at your computer."

Uffie isn’t shy or apologetic about admitting to a certain amount of laziness when it comes to her musical devotion, highlighted on track 2 of Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans, “Art of Uff,” in which she airily comments, “Me and my stupid flow, me and my MySpace with only three tracks a year and they still talk about me.” Her associations with Feadz, Justice, Pharrell Williams, and Ed Banger Records have also had a small part in elevating her success.

Ready to Uff

Frequently compared to Ke$ha (and that’s the last time I’m spelling her name that way, who the fuck does she think she is to believe people should have to use a dollar sign as an S every goddamn time she’s mentioned in print?), Uffie takes the crown for singing about youthful indiscretions. You ain’t never gonna hear Kesha sing lyrics like, “I’m like this cold ass bitch and I ain’t ready to suck” or “I’m a damn crazy brat and I don’t give a fuck, I’ve got my man, my sound blasted, and I’m ready to fuck.” Granted, these songs, “Hot Chick” and “Ready to Uff,” are taken from her earlier dalliances and do not appear on Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans, traces of the fiercely defiant “musical youth who rules the nation” are present on “ADD SUV” and “Give It Away.” Still, Uffie appears far tamer than before. But even with a tinge of domesticity, Uffie is too lewd to make it on Top 40 radio anytime soon. And that’s usually the mark of a good artist.

Crystal Castles was never exactly a groundbreaking force in the whole 8-bit, chiptune, whatever-you-want-to-call-it genre they emerged from. What made vocalist Alice Glass and multi-instrumentalist Ethan Kath’s take on it so exciting was the energy, the pop sensibilities, and attitude they brought to the proverbial table. It wasn’t wholly original, but they had some interesting ideas, and it didn’t hurt that Glass is so easy on the eyes, either. On their sophomore effort, which is a self titled one like their first (they’re too cool to title their albums, man), they downplay the glitchy bleeps a bit to flesh out their sound a bit more, and it pays off wonderfully.

Ha ha your mommy's dead

The widened scope of their sound is displayed perfectly with the first two tracks. Fainting Spells opens up Crystal Castles’ second self titled album with an ungodly, ear piercing cacophony that rages on for two minutes before some semblance of an actual beat appears. It comes together nicely, but then abruptly ends, with gloomy dancefloor-friendly single Celestica picking up nearly exactly where it leaves off. Celestica, like the lion’s share of the tracks, has a sweet dreaminess to it that could almost sound warm, if not for the icy, robotic production. A lot of this is due to how good Kath is with applying effects to Glass’ voice; he enhances her already alternately sweet and vicious voice by either smothering it with echo or drowning it with distortion, getting the maximum result from each extremity. Then there are songs (particularly the pair of Violent Dreams and Vietnam) where the tweaking is something else altogether, in the same vein as the weirder vocal moments from the debut, but pushed a bit more, even resembling that of the Knife’s Karin Dreijer Andersson at times. Another great quality of Kath’s production that we’re reminded of is his impeccable taste in samples, as demonstrated by Year of Silence‘s throbbing, fuzzy bass and synth topped over by a disorienting loop of Sigur Rós’ Jónsi Birgisson singing.

The fact that Crystal Castles have branched out as well as they have is quite impressive, especially considering how gimmicky their nintendo bleep centered debut could come across at times. Crystal Castles are by turns blistering and beautiful here, and are at times even able to pull off both simultaneously (like on the utterly brilliant Baptism). There isn’t as cohesive a feel as on their debut, but that’s to be expected when experimenting this broadly with a base sound. Besides, even at the most disjointed moments (the harsh Doe Deer and Birds come to mind), everything is very well constructed, and the songs are able to blend in with the rest of the album at least on the grounds that they share a disorienting and cold quality found just about everywhere else.

Behind you, Alice! He's beating you at a staring contest!

There really isn’t much to complain about with Crystal Castles’ second (self titled) album. The impressive broadening of their sound finds the duo less reliant on fashionably low res electronics, getting better ideas, and putting them to better use. In a way, this is a very relieving album; it shows the duo growing from something potentially campy into something more full bodied and listenable, and it’s easy to see this set of songs standing alongside the year’s best. Expect to hear this disc getting a lot of rotation in hipster clothing stores before the summer even begins.

Seeing as Dan Snaith (the man behind Caribou, and before that Manitoba) has been making music for a solid ten years now, it’s not exactly shocking to see him switching genres between albums. It’s not much of a surprise to see how well he pulls it off either, or how every effort sounds quintessentially his regardless of how far Snaith pushes his boundaries. So when Odessa, which is easily one of the most psychedelic dance tunes in recent memory, was released as a free download in January, it didn’t arouse curiosity nearly as much as it did anticipation. By Snaith’s standards, the shift from his sixties sunshine pop flavored Andorra (which won the Polaris Music Prize in 2008) to more electronic disco styled dance of this year’s Swim was a logical progression; particularly with how a few tracks on Andorra hinted a bit at this direction. Regardless, Dan Snaith has undoubtedly got a winner on his hands with Caribou’s latest.

What's that supposed to be, some kinda lollipop? Alright, PEDO

Though Swim’s presentation as a disco-inflected dance album is clear, the heavy psychedelic effects he is known for are still prevalent. As mentioned earlier, Snaith is a master of accruing different sounds and incorporating them into his own unique style, while constantly moving forward; much like a musical Katamari (what, you’ve never played that game? pfft). Leave House is a perfect example of this amalgam – a flute loop reminiscent of earlier folk (or I guess I should call it “folktronica”) along with trippy waves of synths, a solid, danceable beat, and almost unsettlingly joyful falsettos of “Leave house!” chirping throughout. Lalibela‘s heavy echo effects and warped first half remind the listener of Andorra, all while maintaining a certain head-bobbing quality; the same especially could be said for the closing Jamelia.

...I really need to go get high at one of this guy's shows...

Odessa is a great introduction to Swim. Much like how Melody Day did with Andorra, its development over the course of four/five minutes serves to build the track itself up with exceedingly proficient layering, but the album’s atmosphere as well. Snaith is incredibly meticulous in his arrangements, and it comes through in spades. Odessa is continuously absorbing additional sounds, particularly percussive ones, and holding them back then spitting them back out at the perfect moments. Sun and Kaili have similarly implemented percussion (and even horns on the latter) building around warm, throbbing synths, and both result in beautiful, dreamy tracks. Found Out has the strange distinction of combining summery, bright keyboards and an off beat, surf rock sounding guitar with a slow, trudging beat, and steady bells that almost bring Christmas to mind. There’s a somewhat otherworldly feel achieved with this combination, and with the great, buried melodies to boot, it stands out very well in the midst of all the fantastic production found here.

Hannibal, much like Kaili, is built around a heavily distorted synth with horns gradually entering along with random percussion. What really makes the song special is how the main melody shifts between the left and right channels, almost sounding as it’s floating. Seriously, if you’re ever on something, put on a pair of headphones and BLARE THIS SONG. You will probably be the happiest you’ve been in recent memory.

Swim is spectacular, hands down. It’s upbeat, it’s adventurous, and its textures are incredibly deep, with quite a lot going on in each song. Swim really underlines one of the chief qualities that makes Caribou so great – how Dan Snaith can continue to evolve without any sacrifice to the elements he’s accumulated in his music thus far. This album is extremely well constructed, both immediate and intricate, and only gets better with repeated listens.

While Autechre has certainly never been known for their accessibility, the duo has put out some especially challenging work over the last ten years. Three releases in particular, which were difficult yet rewarding in their own respects: 2001′s insanely impenetrable Confield, the cold, robotic, and extremely abrasive Untilted from 2005, and the wildly disjointed Quaristice, released in 2008. Now on Oversteps, their tenth album, producers Rob Brown and Sean Booth aren’t so much reverting as taking a softer approach. Never a group to stay in one place for long, Oversteps is still rife with experimentation, but it’s taken from a much more laid back perspective, and the result is a slightly more digestible Autechre record.

I swear, these rorschach tests are getting less and less imaginative...

The overall mood is key on Oversteps; the tracks rely heavily on atmospherics, and the little intricacies aren’t really noticed until the ambiance is taken in, though surprisingly this doesn’t take long at all. From the moment opener r ess slinks into ilanders, the sound for the entire album is laid out, and it’s just a matter of immersing oneself. Songs like Treale and qplay have actual solid beats, something that has appeared haphazardly at best in Autechre’s recent work. Even where the beats are semi-present or fractured entirely, there’s still some prevailing melody that, no matter how disjointed, is still warm and alluring enough to follow. Obviously, immediacy was never one of Autechre’s top goals, but at times Oversteps feels about as immediate as the duo can get. known(1) is among the catchiest things Brown and Booth have ever put together, and it still keeps the sharp moodiness and tremendous subtleties that drive the record in tact.

While there are quite a few moments that recall earlier Autechre, nothing ever comes across as a rehash. os veix3 is at least as haunting and eerie as anything to be found on Tri Repetae, but smoothly transitions into the more Draft 7.30 recalling O=0. The album’s flow is another superb aspect; each song is strong enough to stand out on its own, but they morph into each other beautifully. d-sho qub ends with highly unsettling choirs recalling the Monolith in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, and when the clanging st epreo interrupts, it somehow feels like a natural extension. Oversteps closes out with Yuop, consisting of a simple melody distorting further and further as wave after wave of sound collides into it. It climaxes at the halfway point, but the latter half still commands, sounding almost electrified as it dies away.

Now I want to watch Jacob's Ladder

It’s remarkable that after twenty years, Autechre is still coming up with different, inventive ways to push themselves. While Oversteps is nowhere near as intense as numerous other areas in the band’s discography, this cohesive body of songs is an interesting and quite welcome polar opposite to Quaristice. At times it references other points in Autechre’s career, but there’s still a unity among the tracks that keeps them from sounding interchangeable with them. There’s also the strange accessibility (which for Autechre isn’t much, but accessibility nonetheless) that Oversteps carries with it, giving it all the more charm. It’s not their best album, but it just might be their easiest to enjoy.

Opting to wait until the initial chillwave craze calmed down before releasing his own full length debut, Chaz Bundick (the man behind Toro y Moi) was a bit of a gamble. Last summer, the um.. charmingly named subgenre was exploding with the likes of Neon Indian, Washed Out, and Memory Tapes, and while Toro y Moi would have certainly enjoyed a reasonable amount of popularity, there was more risk of being lumped in with the movement. In a way, however, it was probably not necessary, had that been the idea. Causers of This is much more relaxed than anything his contemporaries released, and for this Bundick definitely stands out. However, it doesn’t have as much dynamism either, and it’s a shame, because it’s a quality damning enough to render a beautiful, well crafted album forgettable.

When Chaz found this rejected Roxy Music cover, he found his calling as well

The opening duo of Blessa and Minors does indeed put Bundick’s proverbial best foot forward. The first ten seconds of Blessa grab you instantly with its warped synths and, scratchy and hissing samples, and Bundick’s tender voice. By the time the beat kicks in, and the melodies really take hold, you’re already hooked. He carries it over expertly to Minors, with the song starting as if the intro had been cut off, letting us dive right into its warm and enveloping vibe. These two songs signify everything that’s great about Toro y Moi: they’re pieced together very meticulously without necessarily sounding as such, the melodies are beautiful, and they’re very well textured, with layers often swimming around each other and producing a wonderful washed out effect. Lissoms is the other early standout; the tempo remains the same throughout, much as the first two tracks do, except right in the middle momentum piles up completely out of nowhere and a light dance beat is fashioned. It’s as startling as it is immediately alluring, and it’s gone as abruptly as it appeared. And herein lies the problem with Causers of This – there are virtually no other moments like this.

Take Neon Indian’s Psychic Chasms, for example. Same style, perhaps even similar equipment, but Alan Palomo was more dynamic in his approach. There were soothing moments, aggressive moments, and plenty that were so artfully weird all you could do was listen in awe. Psychic Chasms also had a certain soul to it, which is ironic considering that this was achieved with distorted samples and effects, but soul nonetheless. It conjured up memories of summers past, it had this universal feel-good retrospection about it that wasn’t particularly deep, but was tremendously effective.

Bundick has got the soothing moments down pat, in fact this is easily the most relaxing, calming release to come out of the whole chillwave, glo-fi, bullshit whatever you want to call it scene. He’s even got a great detached-but-not-really quality to his voice that especially shines on Thanks Vision and Talamak. And it’s not like the production quality takes any sort of dip after the record’s fantastic beginning. It’s just the fact that nothing really changes, and with everything presenting the same sound and mood, it’s a lot harder for any moments to stand out. By the time Bundick tries to implement a bit of R&B dance flavor to spice things up with Low Shoulders, it’s already too late to make much of an impact.

Yo.

Causers of This sounds great, is expertly constructed, and a lovely listen. However, it’s one of those albums that sounds great while you listen to it, but doesn’t linger much afterward. Still, with as great as the positive aspects of Causers of This are, it’s very plausible that the second release he has slated for 2010 will be even better.

Two days shy of a full seven years after their last release, which was widely viewed as more of a solo effort from Robert Del Naja due to Grant Marshall’s absence, Massive Attack have finally returned. A gap of that size, long even for the trip-hop spearheading collective (who have released only five albums in nearly twenty years), can make comparing new with old somewhat difficult; a lot can happen in seven years, and most of the fans who so eagerly picked up 100th Window back in 2003 are scarcely the same people today. This is why despite the broader sound and more dynamically used intensity, it takes a good number of listens before one can decide whether Heligoland, their latest, is better than 100th Window. And the slow growing quality, paired with the fact that Portishead put out such a stellar record a few years ago, has already resulted in the album not getting quite as much credit as it deserves; before its formal release, no less. Hopefully the trend will change soon enough, because while Heligoland certainly doesn’t top the best in Massive Attack’s catalogue, it’s still easily good enough to stand next to them.

I don't think I've ever seen a rainbow look so much like a frown

The return of Marshall, or Daddy G, doesn’t take long to become apparent; the psychedelic gloom that dominated 100th Window is largely gone, relegated to a moderation which leaves Heligoland sounding far more upbeat and slightly brighter; though make no mistake, there is still a great deal of dark, menacing presence here, and its more modest portions make it all the more powerful. The album is already being compared to Mezzanine, but its sound is much more soulful, and sounds more akin to Protection. Another big difference is that much of Heligoland is more reliant on simple melodies, which renders the tracks as deceptively simple. The atmospherics are still there, but they sneak up on the listener; more often than not they creep in just as the initial hook is hitting its stride.

The list of guest vocalists is remarkable, and they are all unsurprisingly suitably chosen. While it may seem gimmicky having hipster band vocalists Tunde Adebimpe and Guy Garvey (of TV on the Radio and Elbow, respectively) on board, their songs don’t sound like anybody else should have sung on them. Opener Pray for Rain serves as a great, morphing backdrop for Adebimpe’s doomed sermon-like delivery, while Flat of the Blade finds Garvey expressing disorienting dread very well with an understated but highly affecting vocal. Damon Albarn has a contribution as well, Saturday Come Slow, with a great, 13 era Blur sound, though he sounds strangely Thom Yorke-like in the chorus. Mainstay Horace Andy, who has appeared on all five Massive Attack LPs, sings on Splitting the Atom and Girl I Love You, the latter of which preceded Heligoland by about four months in EP format. Girl is driven by great percussion and a killer bassline, which admittedly sounds slightly like a sped up version of Angel‘s, but still works to great effect. Also well used are the horn samples, which are relatively abundant throughout the album.

Naturally, there are also the female vocalists which Massive Attack has become known for as well; Martina Topley-Bird, better known for her work with Tricky, appears on two tracks; it’s Hope Sandoval though, and her turn on Paradise Circus, that really stands out. The song is more or less bare, led by a basic piano and handclap, but her sultry vocals fill in any empty spaces with ease, and she keeps the composition sounding luxuriant until the production kicks in a little over halfway through; it makes one wonder why she wasn’t picked to sing for them before now. The songs without collaborators, Rush Minute and closer Atlas Air, still have a bit of 100th Window’s heaviness to them, but the livelier beats give them a much more compelling kick, which particularly helps the keep latter’s meandering somewhat grounded.

...can we get a minute here? Jesus

Upon first listen, Heligoland is disappointingly underwhelming in places; where as everything they’ve put out before had beauty with the immediacy of a sledgehammer, there’s a bit more subtlety present here. It doesn’t take long to reveal itself, however, and while the unrelenting atmosphere of 100th Window had its positive points, it’s refreshing to see them shifting it around some. It’s pretty clear that their innovating days are over, but just because they’re no longer pioneers doesn’t mean that they’ve become derivative or unimaginative. They still have an outstanding sound to boast, and it’s impressive that after twenty years they are keeping up not only with their few contemporaries, but the modern electronic scene they helped create as well. Heligoland may not be a masterpiece, but it’s far from a letdown.