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

Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel begins with a young boy telling a ghost story about a spirit named Charlie. Waves of sound wash over the boy as the story continues and the spirit enters the room with the listener like audio fingers reaching over unwary shoulders. The ghost story plays on a cassette tape player, probably a haunted one, and the rustling sounds accompanying the boy’s tale soon become overpowering. Charlie has arrived.

Ambient musician Atlas Sound, the musical solo project of Bradford James Cox, creates an engaging record with this Feb. 2008 release. Cox is a fascinating character. He is a sufferer of Marfan Syndrome, a genetic disorder that characterizes its patients with disproportionately long limbs, elongated thin fingers, and a naturally tall stature. Cox is also the lead singer of an Atlanta-based “ambient punk” band called Deerhunter, but Atlas Sound was developed out of a desire to do a solo project.

Cox recorded Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel on Ableton Live, a loop-based music sequencer that is often used as an instrument for live performances. The album rarely uses effects that were not built into the software and the lyrics for the record were created as recorded on the first take.

Cox has used the name Atlas Sound since the sixth grade when he started recording on a cassette recorder karaoke machine. The name of the company that made the machine was Atlas Sound, of course. Cox, now in his twenties, has composed a series of feelings with this Blade Runner-esque album.

Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel is not for everyone. Music never is. The phantoms of sound created by Cox often seep into perception and play softly on the walls, but they can also be infuriating and jarring. The repetition of the guitar loop from “Cold as Ice” has the ability to drive itself deep within just as it has the ability to dissuade with its spacious feel. The mystery lies in the ghosts he creates.

Cox has said he wants the album to feel like a dream, creating a rounded effect with the ambient tones of music. The pulsations of tracks like “Ready, Set, Glow” offer little escape from the surreal state, instead subjecting the listener to hammering strobe-like rhythms.

“Recent Bedroom,” which picks itself up from the ground after “A Ghost Story,” starts off harmlessly enough with a rather model guitar stroke. Cox sounds somewhat like a more delicate Billy Corgan as the fuzz of the song begins to get out of hand, but his expressions about his failure to cry signal something more noteworthy than vocal emulation.

Atlas Sound has created a disorienting, winding, hazy piece of music. The walls of sound represent a sort of shoegaze effect (maybe “dream pop,” har har), but his heartbreak and inner torment provide something more through the noise. One critic went so far as to compare the record to Loveless (Alternative Press, March 2008, pg. 140). While I don’t think I would go that far, there are some elements to Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel that surely call upon the spectre of Kevin Shields’ masterpiece.

Long after the ambience has faded, I can still see the imprints that the phantoms left. I can still hear the ache and frailty in Cox’s voice. And I can still see the mystery beneath the fog. This is a beautiful piece of music, one of lingering and powerful quality, that should go down as one of the best of the year.

9/10

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

Jason Drake’s multi-instrumental solo project, Cassettes Won’t Listen, is a synth-pop lover’s dream. Cassettes Won’t Listen has been receiving considerable online buzz ever since 2005’s digi-only Nobody’s Moving EP was released. Two more digital EPs followed, with 2006’s The Quiet Trail and a free covers compilation called One Alternative. With Drake’s latest release, Small-Time Machine, the jump to CD took place and its seven tracks are well worth a listen.

Small-Time Machine is a delightfully melodic album. It is also emotional, particularly for synth-pop, which can often leave expressive songwriting behind in favour of blips and parlour tricks (not that it’s a bad thing in the right hands). Drake keeps things simple, making the album accessible.

Drake’s record moves merrily between elements of trip-hop, indie rock, and drum-and-bass. With such well-built melodies and unique sounds, one figures that he could get away with just about anything. Drake has placed his songs skilfully, too, allowing each one to flow into the next. When the album kicks off with sounds of what could be background noise from a cafeteria and ventures into staccato piano, it’s a thing of beauty.

“Metronomes,” the lead-off track on the disc, uses the aforementioned staccato to accent the flexibility of the song. It’s a great indicator as to what Drake has in mind for the album. With “Large Radio,” he builds on earlier themes and develops a really slick-sounding beat. The echoes are unanticipated on the first listen, but upon further excursions they plainly become part of the song and work with the beat.

“Paper Float” starts up with a sort of robot-and-piano duet, but becomes pleasantly gratifying very quickly. This feels like The Hills, in a way. But in a good way.

My favourite tune on Small-Time Machine, “Freeze and Explode”, is lyrically strong and very catchy. The chorus is tremendous and should find a place as the album’s single of choice. Beautiful stuff.

The “hardest” track on this soft album is “The Broadcast.” After a measured intro, the bass begins to bump and a little distorted guitar guides things along. As with most songs on Small-Time Machine, Drake favours an abrupt ending. “Two Kids” is a carefree song that feels ripped from the ’80s. The chorus is likeable and perfect for car rides or, perhaps more truthfully, car commercials.

To close out the album, “The Finish Line” features a peculiar mishmash of soft vocals and lots of scratching on the melody. The echoes are back and it’s a good closer to an abstract album.

Cassettes Won’t Listen softly toys with the line between indie rock and electronic music without sounding fuzzy or forced. There is a lot to like on Small-Time Machine and it’s a generally cheerful and smooth record. At seven songs, it does seem to come up a bit short, but it still serves as a nice taste of some good songs. I think we’ll be hearing a lot more from Jason Drake in the near future, so you might want to pick up Small-Time Machine and jump on the bandwagon now.

7/10