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B Y LE AH C O NNO L LY, A D A M C O RNE R , J O S H U A NE V E T T, J O N C L A RK , J O S H B A I NE S , RO B E RT B AT E S , D U NCAN H AR R I S O N, JAME S T. BAL MO NT, BI L LY B L A C K , A NNA T E H A B S I M , A NG U S H A RRI S O N, P H I L I P J A M ES AL L E N
POND HOBO ROCKET Modular
SEAMS QUARTERS Full Time Hobby
6/20
18/20
Aussie psychedelic collective Pond have come close to elevating above underground status due to having common members with the widely loved neo-psych outfit Tame Impala. But, as Pond/TI member Jay Watson once told us over a cigarette in Manchester, “Tame Impala is the pussy version of Pond. This is what we produce when we don’t have limits.” And with the album’s opening waves of unadulterated scuzz, it initially seems like this really is Pond’s big, bold statement. But then the more tranquil second track O Dharma falls flat amongst its clichéd reveal. It’s a noticeable, reoccurring flaw which makes Hobo Rocket feel less like a progressive journey and more like a strenuous trek of epic proportions. Guest vocals from friend of the band and little-known character ‘Cowboy John’ on the title track are nothing more than uniform churns strewn out across their trademark pointers of rough and ready riffs. Giant Tortoise meanwhile presents itself as anything but freshly produced, with one foot planted firmly in the past. For such an apparently energetic band, Hobo Rocket is an unsatisfactory release that lacks excitement, originality and dynamism in equal measure. LC
You’re unlikely to hear a bolder, more confident start to an album of electronic music this year than the juddering, opening drums ‘n’ chords of ClapOne, the track that launches Seams’ debut album Quarters. Complete with cascading synths, and a jagged, raw, percussive heartbeat, the track sets the tone for a muscular but delicate set of electronica and techno. Like early Gold Panda productions, Quarters is dripping in energy and passion. Echoing some of Panda’s timpani-flavoured chiming production, in places the album offers just a hint of the trance aesthetics that acts such as Nathan Fake have made their own. Elsewhere, it’s the squelching, jittery but melodic punch of Moderat that is a more suitable reference. But it’s undoubtedly in this rarefied category of elite producers that Seams deserved to be placed, chiefly because he’s succeeded at that most tricky of tasks: translating the adrenaline, ecstasy and abandonment of the dancefloor into a studio recording, without compromising for a second on subtlety or sophistication. And when, as on the pensive Hurry Guests, the drama dial gets cranked to eleven, it’s difficult to think of a producer with more compelling credentials for brooding, ballsy electronic music than Seams. AC
ALUNAGEORGE BODY MUSIC Island
THE DODOS CARRIER Polyvinyl
12/20
16/20
Body Music casts London-based producer/singer duo AlunaGeorge as explorers of a turn-of-the-century R&B wormhole. George Reid – the control room operator – tightens the bolts that Timberland left unscrewed, while Aluna Francis – the pilot – veers their spacecraft towards the populist via her Aaliyah/Kelis-isms until they crash land at their desired destination: the forefront of commercial UK bass music. It’s often said that relationships are a two way street, requiring both parties to work in tandem in order to succeed. The dynamic of AlunaGeorge, however, is one of sole trouser wearing that rarely challenges the conformability of their more regularly visited gloss-pop sensibilities. Such is the case with single Your Drums, Your Love, where Reid attempts to conjure shape shifting, androgynous belches only to be drowned out by Francis’s infantile coo of one of the catchiest choruses this side of Disclosure. Sure, the two-step swag of Lost And Found hovers close to Hudson Mohawke’s flashy go-apeshit delinquency, and the bubblegum refrain of single You Know You Like It ensures that there’s just enough bite to chew the fat. But too many times, Body Music falls flat on its face due to a deficiency in AlunaGeorge’s formula: the succinct lack of banger-mongering on the part of Reid. JN
Following the death of The Dodos and Women guitarist Nick Reimer last year, the former band’s latest LP is by no means a subdued one. Instead, Carrier is an album that has imbibed the spirit of their short-lived collaboration. The Dodos’ usual open-tuned guitar-pickery is in parts replaced by a thinner, tenser sound – an apparent product of Reimer’s brief tenure as a live guitarist with the band. Carrier has lost none of the usual polyrhythmic tomfoolery you’d expect. What it has gained, however, is a focus that, while tragic in its nature, has paid dividends in its significance. First single Confidence is a perfect example. While retaining The Dodos’ warm, folksy songcraft in the first section, it comes underpinned by a minimal, irregular guitar line, laying the foundation for the very un-Dodos guitar thrash in the second. Meanwhile, Family keeps things comparatively simple in its straightforward dreampop – however the layered, fuzzy guitar solo lends itself to the song’s coda of “Success is failure / Failure’s assured”. Whilst this may not be a restrained record, it’s certainly a reflective one. It’s not often bands pay tribute to someone in music rather than lyrics, but on Carrier, The Dodos have pulled this off with real flair. JC
BLONDES SWISHER RVNG Intl.
PET SHOP BOYS ELECTRIC X2
18/20
16/20
It seemed like this New York duo wouldn’t ever be able top the majesterial Lover, one of the truly transcendental moments in early 21st century dance music history. On Swisher, they’ve done it. One of the most consistent dance albums of recent years, it situates itself somewhere between 100% Silk’s retromaniac house abstractions, the sublime strangeness of early acid tracks and the sharpened, sleek sophistication of endless contemporary German labels. Swisher abounds with a sense of retrofuturism: we hear past-cliches mutating into new forms: Bora Bora falls into the kind of ketamine-house rabbit hole so beloved of Ricardo Villalobos, but swaps his queasily-intimate live-seeming percussion for an intimately-queasy disorientated clank’n’slide down into a new age industrial pit; it clicks, whirrs, rushes, swoons, jets by and crawls to a standstill. Poland is another deep analogue soundsystem banger, all gloopy 303 basslines scuttling under gorgeously flourescent, brittle synth lines and stardust nu-disco arpeggios wrapping themselves around recontextualised dub-techno chords. Closer Elise could just be a contender for song of the year; built around a delicate, melancholy faux-oriental melody it grows into a Balearic stormer and a peak-time destroyer. A triumph. JB
One year on from their last effort Elysium, Pet Shop Boys have lost none of their energy. If anything they’ve gained a tad, substituting the pompous, self-righteous, bombastic pop of their previous effort for heavier beats, better songs and more instrumental, dance-oriented fare. This being Pet Shop boys, however, Electric is still pretty pompous and bombastic. But it’s also a stunning return to form from a band reinstating their love for pop and dance music. It even has a track featuring Example in which he’s not being an utter dick. Imagine that. He’s still on it though. Opener Axis is an absolute belter, a dancefloor-buckling, glitchy and surprisingly modern track which prove that although the boys are in their fifties, they’ve still got their finger near the pulse. Elsewhere Love Is A Bourgeois Construct is rooted in more familiar Pet Shop Boys territory – witty, incisive and utilising sampling with a selfaware ridiculousness that works extremely well. All the tracks here are excellent, and combined bare witness to a band remaining innovative without losing their identity. If Elysium saw them disgruntled, this is a record from a band who’ve never sounded so excited. It’s just annoying Example can attach his name. JC
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