Saturday, 30 June 2012

The 2kDozen 500: #248 - Simian Mobile Disco, "Unpatterns"

This gets off to a spooky start with "I Waited For You", the sound of an answering machine message from a robot from the future who melted while the world was consumed with unearthly fire and you were nipping to the toilet. Something like that. Big and sharp noises, tough and clean, robotic and emotional: intersections of all kind of possibilities. I like possibilities, me. "Cerulean" sounds quite serious with a delicious car door slam beat running all the way through. "Seraphim" features an enjoyable house/acid face/off with soulful vocal, shimmering pianos and lysergic squiggles. It kicks all multi-dimensional, orchestral levels of cunt in, as I might write, were I drunk and more Scottish than I am now. (It's good to have something to aspire to.)

"A Species Out Of Control" is a nice title, the tune itself is like a rancid version of Orbital. Plenty of low-end shuffle, some snarly electronics. "Interference" also has some fantastic musical teeth on show. Another wiggly electronic squelch that runs up and down the street where dubstep lives, ringing all the doorbells, smashing all the windows and spoiling for a fight. Over a deluge of tiny hand-claps and tittering cymbals. I love the wire wool aggression that runs through the tunes. MDMA wouldn't melt...

There are congas on "Put Your Hands Together", but I'll only hold that against it a little bit. More boringer than the other tunes so far, but still to-movable. (As in "moving to" it. Tortured neologims are my thing, alright?) (Ha, ha! Neolo-jisms!) "The Dream Of A Fisherman's Wife" also cuts less mustard than I'd like. "Your Love Ain't Fair" has a beat like windscreen wipers in really heavy rain and a touch of the R&B warbles again. I think I might have heard it before on those Radio One weekend programmes I hear from time to time. It moves crowds but not so much the me inside me.

The closer "Pareidolia" (no idea either) is one of those lush, early Hacienda (no, me neither) tunes that leaves moisture running down the walls and piranhas in the gents urinals. Bouncy fragments of bass boing floating about shivering hi-hats and determined arpeggios. You know, if I HAD to try and describe what it sounds like using words I found in the back of my thoughts.

Rating: Technocracy out of Possibilities

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