Canadian Audiophile’s Mishaps and Misadventures

Liverpool’s Ladytron is back with Velocifero, a corker of an electro-pop-dance album.

Using an assortment of vintage analogue equipment, Ladytron is able to capture a unique sound and splice electronic music and basic pop-rock song structures to create addictive melodies.

Comprised of Helen Marnie, Daniel Hunt, Mira Aroyo, and Reuben Wu, the group has won legions of fans through far-reaching touring and gobs of remixes of tracks by Nine Inch Nails, Soft Cell, Placebo, and many more.

With Velocifero, the band’s fourth studio album, Ladytron has slimmed things down somewhat and has produced a more undemanding electro-pop record. While 2005’s Witching Hour marked a creative high point, this 2008 release is more accessible and less experimental than most of their previous work.

Most of Velocifero seems perfectly at home in dark dance clubs accented by flashing neon lights and perspiring bodies circling and grinding to the pulsating beats and devastatingly hip electronic backdrops. Some of it ventures beyond the touchstone dance texture, however, and plays with a sense of coarseness.

While Velocifero is certainly more conventional than some of Ladytron’s previous releases, it still contains some of the boundary-pushing approach that has made the band a success.

Two songs are sung in Bulgarian (“Black Cat” and “Klevta,” the latter a cover from a 1972 Bulgarian children’s movie), highlighting the Liverpoolians’ sense of culture.

The lead-off single, “Ghosts,” is a rhythmic club popper that is as bold as it is contagious. The vocals whirl over the gush of keys and beats in the background and the melody is outrageously entrancing.

Velocifero may well be Ladytron’s most listenable record to date, as its wall-to-wall melodies stay close to home and remain safely in the comfort zone for most fans of electro-pop acts.

The industrial snap of “Predict the Day” is balanced by a whistle and Alessandro Cortini‘s (Nine Inch Nails) edgy production assistance. The anthemic “Tomorrow” and the elegant “Venture” make perfect closing tracks for Velocifero, exemplifying the journey of sound and closing things down as the lights come up.

Ladytron’s latest may well prove the band’s most popular release to date. Tempered squarely with sturdy melodies and danceable beats, Velocifero is the band’s most accessible work. It still plays with the tougher edges of electro-pop in some moments, but overall this release is soft candy.

7/10

One of the most striking things about Ready Fire Aim’s debut is how taut the production is. Each track on This Changes Nothing unfolds with vigorous synth, charismatic rhythm, and vocals that fold right below the music. Singer Sage Rader’s collaboration with DJ and producer Shaun Morris is an audacious project, but everything about their partnership sounds natural.

The comparison game is delicate business when reviewing something new. With Ready Fire Aim, the comparisons are readily apparent from the opening notes of This Changes Nothing. Hints of Nine Inch Nails play with touches of Depeche Mode and birth an unreservedly danceable blend of grimy synth-pop, trip-hop, and industrial rock with a killer beat and an alluring set of melodies.

Every outwardly natural instrument is squeezed and pushed through effects pedals and production techniques. Beats are clipped and snipped together with the precision and love of a dedicated connoisseur. The melodies are easily spread and form the driving force, moving the record through some rather extensive songs without letting up.

For a debut, This Changes Nothing is a brave record. Songs venture to and flirt with the five-minute mark, which can be strenuous for this type of music when it’s not done well. As it is, Morris and Rader have composed a mesmerizing debut.

The album begins on a lingering note, as electric violin is put through the ringer by Morris and Rader’s voice coos over the soft electro-beats and guitar touches as he builds to an Erasure-like chorus on “End of Over.”

Production is valiant on the guitar-driven pop of “Wannabe Your,” one of my personal favourites from the album, and Rader’s channelling of Perry Farrell in the winding electro-fog of “I Would For You” is a clipped-beat marvel.

Other tunes follow more traditional song structures, like the ode to funky British 80s pop that is “Beautiful Thing” or the glistening gloss of “So Fine.”

Morris’ technical way of approaching the music matches wits perfectly with Rader’s desire to be a bit of an enigma and the end results are danceable songs tuned to technical perfection.

This Changes Nothing cracks and sizzles through its 12 bold tracks, releasing an unrelenting blend of dance, pop, industrial rock, and infectious inevitable grooves. Ready Fire Aim’s debut album begs to be heard.

7.5/10

Hype is a strange machine. It can promote or kill a band. In the U.K., hype is made into an art form by publications like NME and Time Out London. With London’s own Temposhark, the machine is in overdrive and NME is leading the pack: “What if Trent Reznor was raised on the Pet Shop Boys rather than Einstürzende Neubauten? Think: these dudes.”

With such a sophisticated set of accolades, I slipped Temposhark’s The Invisible Line into the player and jacked the surround with an uncanny mishmash of hesitation and exhilaration swirling in my stomach. Would the blot of over hyped propaganda leave me feeling soured towards this electro-rock duo or would the pair’s debut match the kerfuffle?

Strings. Nothing but strings. That’s the first thing I hear on “Don’t Mess With Me,” the album’s first track. The unfussiness of the song is clear and the vocals flow over it with haughty vanity. By the time singer Rob Diament says “It’s best to keep me pleased,” Temposhark has me in its clutches and this swirling Bond-esque tour de force is a wonderful lead-in.

When the synth kicks in on the colossal hit single “Joy,” The Invisible Line really takes off into the stratosphere of electro-pop righteousness. This Guy Sigsworth (Madonna, Britney Spears) produced sleet-storm of funkiness is going to be killer. The tune has throwback and postmodernism written all over it, offering glimpses of Depeche Mode in all its furious euphoria.

Two tracks in and The Invisible Line has already lived up to the hype, creating at once an infuriatingly captivating pop blast and a sinewy self-satisfaction with quick punches. It helps matters that the boys never let up. Diament and programmer Luke Busby have created a giant neon wall of scandalously exceptional music.

Call me caught up in the hype machine, but “Blame” has all the catchiness of the best pop on earth.

And when the band gears down for slower stuff like “It’s Better to Have Loved,” the brains of the lyrics and composition really come through. It’s a big slice of Savage Garden (but good) and Duran Duran rolled up into one juicy and teasing pop circus act. The grittiness of Temposhark comes through whether they slow it down or speed it up, as the grooves are always contagious and harsh. When the strings cut through the music on “It’s Better to Have Loved,” there’s something special in the air.

The duet “Not That Big” stands out as a hell of an angst-anthem for broken relationships long down the shitter. Diament is joined by Imogen Heap for this hook-filled burner. Sure to be a top single, “Not That Big” is cyclical but has all the spray and smoke of a heated spat among two love-scorched combatants. Brilliant.

Fittingly, Immie leaves and “Knock Me Out” drops in with an insistent synth twist. The perfect follow-up track, this one suggests that Diament is more than ready to move on from the fragments of his past liaison: “I catch your eye / In the rear view mirror / With one hand on your chin / Stroking your cheek with your finger / How I wish you were mine.”

The improbably mesmeric “Crime” isn’t just some faint allegory. Diament “wants real gold” in his hands and he’s not afraid to “shut your mouth” to get it. This perilously hip number pulsates with desperation, calling back some of Dave Gahan’s greater moments. And “Battleships” has just the right amount of haze and warmth.

“Meet me at the aftershow/I’ll be waiting with the keys to my hotel,” Diament begins on “Little White Lie.” Encouraging an affair with lines like “yes, I’m married but I’ve left my wife at home” is alluring stuff as Temposhark lets the song spiral out of control and one lie piles on top of another. This significant storytelling ability is what sets Diament and Busby on another level.

“Invisible Ink” is a slow ambient track that flows agreeably into the album’s closer, “Winter’s Coming.” The swirling keyboards and building orchestral movements on the latter deliver a great finale and a sign of things to come.

So there it is. Temposhark marks a rare instance of a band living up to its hype, delivering an album so filled with stories and power-pop melodies that it begs the repeat button seconds after the closing notes.

And for all of the crankiness of the hype machine, the target with this one was on the nail. Diament and Busby are here to stay and should plant their feet resolutely in the shaky ground of fumbling electro-pop acts. They’re sharp. They’re slick. They’re taut. They’re even sexy. They’re Temposhark.

9/10

Kylie Minogue’s first commercial album release since being diagnosed with breast cancer in May of 2005 is a spunky dance record that shows that the Australian popster hasn’t missed a beat and hasn’t gotten all serious on us either. Ever the party girl, Minogue’s X (named such to mark her tenth album) is a sexy and steamy romp destined for loads of club rotation.

Kylie has always been diminutive, both in stature (at just five feet tall) and in voice. In terms of pop personas, though, she’s colossal. Not quite as big a deal as Madonna, Minogue’s always been more of a Janet Jackson-type. Her vocals are more whispered and inconspicuous. Her sex appeal seems more grounded in ecstasy and less in pretension (not that she can’t be flashy). After recovering from breast cancer, Minogue dropped a TV special, a children’s book, a perfume, and a glitzy New Year’s Eve concert at Wembley. In November of last year, she dropped an album.

X was recorded in Stockholm, London, and Ibiza. It’s a characteristic Kylie Minogue album, filled with lots of energy and double entendres. The lead-off single, “2 Hearts,” is a breathy ditty with a solid beat and captivating melody. Other tunes capture the same zeal, including “Speakerphone” and “Heart Beat Rock.”

Of course, Minogue’s vocals go through the ringer of mechanized maneuvering. At 39, she sounds more emotionally detached than ever. Somehow the tracks still sizzle, though, thanks in large part to the incalculable sexual innuendos and demure enticements. If Britney’s Blackout was sexy, Kylie’s latest is simply sex.

“Sensitized” is probably the tightest track on the album, as the production is incredible and the sway of the chorus is ordained for the top of the charts. The sample of Serge Gainsbourg’s Bonnie and Clyde works wonders, too.

“Wow” takes us back to the 80s in style, showing us that nobody can mimic Kylie Minogue quite like Kylie Minogue. The song’s got a bit of “Locomotion” to it and runs pleasurably with her suppressed vocals. The chorus and production is so conventional it’s nonsensically amusing. Then there’s “Nu-Di-Ty,” a tacky sexed-up goofball with just enough camp to get by. “Pop that zipper down and work that thing out,” she intones. Oh, Kylie!

Lots of X sounds silly, lots of it sounds sexy, and most of it is solid danceable pop. This is a record that will eternally rotate in clubs and on dance floors around the world. The beats are tantalizing and the melodies are rock-solid. Minogue’s vocals fade either into the backdrop or right through the vocal apparatus, rendering her incredibly reticent throughout the album’s 13 tracks, but the courage of the comeback is reason enough to love the fiery Aussie.

7/10

New York’s Hercules and Love Affair meshes disco, house, and bold vocals like a dream. Sure, the notion of reviving disco is nothing new. Several bands have tried to do it for years, experimenting with hooks and loops and big vocals to summon up that sound of the 70s. With Hercules and Love Affair, though, it seems less like a refurbishment and more like an establishment of something spanking new for 2008.

It’s really no surprise that this innovation would come out of New York. Take four oddballs steeped in the club scene, mix with disco and house, and out comes Hercules and Love Affair. Led by DJ Andrew Butler, who began his “musical career” at age 15 by working the wheels of steel in a Denver leather bar run by a hostess named Chocolate Thunder Pussy, the collective is audacious and absurdly fun. Antony Hegarty’s (of Antony and the Johnsons) voice fuels the debut self-titled album. Transsexual Nomi and androgynous lesbian Kim Ann Foxmann round out the party people.

Hercules and Love Affair’s debut, released last month, features all of the trappings of excellent disco. Thumping bass lines, ever-present hi-hats, ostentatious yet mysteriously gloomy vocals, and lots of tinkering around. Butler all moves it immaculately, though, creating consistent and accessible music sure to please the East Villagers and basement dwellers alike. It’s good music for us regular folk, too.

The best indicator that Hercules and Love Affair is not simply another disco throwback collective lies in the mournful vocals of Antony Hegarty. He seems fluently tragic, like a sort of anti-hero for the diva movement of the late 70s. The songs have a dim emotion to them as a result, turning full-on dance tracks into affecting pieces of sombre authenticity. Some songs function as a farewell to disco, mourning the end of the free-wheeling days as they gave way to the realities of AIDs and other calamities.
One of the album’s best tracks, “Blind,” is a clear example of this woeful approach. The brew of horns, strings, house beats, and jangling electronics makes it a prototypical musical homage to the nature of disco music. Yet the lyrics and undercurrents of the track propose something more: “Now that I’m older the stars should lie upon my face/And when I find myself alone/I feel like I am blind.”

The brilliant “Hercules Theme” is a superior tune that brims with the lilt of horns and backing vocals (“Yeah, yeah, yeah”) and “Athene” is a beat-happy track ready for dance floors across the world. “This is My Love” is a jazzy beauty and “Raise Me Up” is a club-thumper ready for prime time.

Hercules and Love Affair combines house, disco, and eulogy for the latter so well that it often feels like the New York quartet has invented something new. The heart, soul, and meaning of the disco era seems to have found fresh earth with this album, capturing the dying days of an era with all the melancholy, splendour, allure, and gregariousness required to mine those days of excess.

9/10

Britney Spears released Blackout, somehow, in October of 2007. Despite all of the hullabaloo and rubbish embedded in her personal life, this is the best album Britney’s ever made. It is deeply produced, often chaotic, and often obnoxiously breathy. Nevertheless, Blackout is also amazingly captivating, precariously danceable, and damned exciting.

Before Brit mystified the world with baldness, babies, and bad behaviour, she was actually a pop star. Way back in 1999, she implored us to hit her one more time. Since then, life’s been interesting for the pop princess as she’s bounced boyfriends around and been reliable rumour fodder for the glitz-and-sham media. Her life has likely put many a paparazzo’s kid through college, if they have those…

But I digress because it really is about the music with Blackout. Sure, she gives the odd nod to her charmed life as the target of stalkers and dreadful decisions. For the most part, though, this is straightforward blazingly hot pop. The familiar strains of “Gimme More” start out the album with a likeable pop standard and we’re swiftly treated to stimulating music after that.

The earworm known as “Radar” seems fit for radio release and a smashing video. Other tracks are hot and sticky in classic Spears fashion, like the aptly-named “Get Naked (I Got a Plan)” on which she coos “I’m not ashamed of my beauty.” She totally strips away any remnants from the Mickey Mouse Club, ditches her tween fans, and gets naked all over Blackout.

Sure, Brit’s often distorted to the point of sounding like a robot, but this is lethal pop. This is the dirty pop *NSYNC tried to deliver. This is greasy, grimy, grubby music from Spears. “Ooh Ooh Lover” is a bouncy tune, perfectly fitting with the album’s sex-obsessed nature. In fact, pretty much every song is about sex. “Freakshow” proclaims that Brit wants people to “clap while we perform.” Yes, that type of performance.

Spears even manages a sour F-you to K-Fed on the album’s last track, the Pharrell Williams-written and Neptunes-produced “Why Should I Be Sad.” It’s the closest thing Blackout has to a ballad and the lyrics on it are barbed and akin to a rap beef track.

Britney Spears is certainly deconstructing as a person, but her music is getting better and better (perhaps because of her turmoil?). With Blackout, she delivers one of the most fascinating, sexy, steamy, and appealing pop albums in a long time and certainly the best in her career. I truly hope this is a sign of things to come for Miss Spears.

7/10