I’ve reviving the melophobe 50-word music review (see here for details), with quick hits on two high-profile new records. Since Daft Punk’s a duo, and we haven’t heard from it in a long while, I cheated—its new album gets exactly 100 words. Sue me.
You know that comedown after your cocaine high, when you just want to curl up in a fetal ball but the glitter-faced guy next to you won’t stop chatting you up or staring at your boobs? And your friends keep pulling you out onto the dance floor? That’s this album. “Get Lucky” is an obvious instant classic. Otherwise, though, “Doin’ It Right” is one of the few tracks that does. The album percolates too long in vocoders and spoken-word interludes (really, guys?). Daft Punk has disco technique and history down cold. But the French Press method can’t save weak blends.
Reminds me of: Sylvester / Dr. Buzzard’s Original Savannah Band / Styx
I thought I’d hate it, too. But Ezra Koenig pulls out his Elvis (Presley and Costello) vocal whooshes; the rhythms tighten anxiously; and the organ grounds it all. The lyrics get deep, not just clever. Has this band finally learned to open up emotionally? Good–that’s how boys become men.
Reminds me of: Talking Heads, pre-Remain in Light / Clap Your Hands Say Yeah / Mekons