[Pop]
Kylie Minogue
X
***
It’s hard not to hear Kylie Minogue’s 10th album—released in Europe and her native Australia last November but just now making its U.S. debut—as a bookend to Britney Spears’ recent Blackout. Both singers grapple with loss-of-private-identity issues, as evidenced first of all by their respective titles—Blackout being the moment during which one loses both consciousness and inhibitions, X denoting a rather ominous anonymity. There are also clear musical similarities between the two, flaunting as they do a discombobulated electro-pop, awash in synth squelches, gleefully mutilated vocal tracks and other forms of sonic deviousness. (I’m hesitant to draw conclusions about the source of all this and attribute Britney’s dislocation to a series of nervous breakdowns and Kylie’s to her recent battles with cancer, but such thoughts don’t entirely vanish as I’m listening.) Nor can it be ignored that the best tracks on each album (Kylie’s “Speakerphone” and Britney’s “Piece of Me”) are produced by the same hot Swedish duo, Bloodshy & Avant.
And yet, there’s a crucial difference between Blackout and X, a difference which, unfortunately, serves to underscore the latter’s weakness. Where Britney positively thrives on the violent frisson created between technology and singer, fighting her way through the murk of her mix, Kylie’s personality too often just gets buried in it (and the truth is, I’m not convinced she has much personality as a vocalist). The result is an album that has some thrilling musical fragments but very little that actually sticks. There’s a whole lot of sexy, come-hither vamping, but little in the way of actual passion.
Sometimes, the surface pleasures are enough. The pulsating Euro-dance beat of “Like a Drug” and sleek R&B-isms of “All I See” are nifty (if not terribly deep) creatures, and the aforementioned “Speakerphone”—a litany of vocoderized booty-shaking clichés—is the sort of inspired silliness into which I wish she had poured more of her energy. –Scott Woods
[Dance-Pop]
Hot Chip
Made in the Dark
***
During his band’s face-melting Coachella set last spring (it really was that hot, literally and figuratively), Hot Chip vocalist Alexis Taylor snuck the lyrics from Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” into the London five-piece’s own “And I Was a Boy From School,” to magnificent effect. On new album Made in the Dark, Taylor & Co. interrupt new single “Shake a Fist” with a sample of Todd Rundgren sermonizing about “the sounds of the studio” overlaid with glitzy electronic effects, a result that can only be described as irritating.
In other words, Hot Chip seems to have no taste filter. Anything goes, which makes the music more challenging, and at times less rewarding, than one might want from a made-for-hip-clubs pop act built for bouncy beats and snazzy synth lines.
Made in the Dark succeeds when it stays relatively simple. Rundgren aside, opening song trio “Out at the Pictures,” “Shake a Fist” and “Ready for the Floor” thump out a fun, danceable vibe that carries through to back-half cuts “One Pure Thought” and “Hold On,” even if none rivals the individual glory of either “Boy From School” or “Over and Over” off 2006’s The Warning.
When Hot Chip strays from its good-time romp, however, be it with its overabundance of Taylor-sung ballads (his fragile voice can carry off one or two, tops) or its R. Kelly-inspired slow jam, “Wrestlers” (little more than an “Ignition” parody), disc No. 3 winds up like its predecessors: a respectable attempt but one stymied by its own ambition. –Spencer Patterson
[Mellow]
Jack Johnson
Sleep Through the Static
**
If Jack Johnson were any mellower on the new Sleep Through the Static, he’d be a bottle of Tylenol PM. Of course, being laid-back isn’t anything new for the surfer-turned-strummer. and, in the case of 2006’s Sing-a-Longs and Lullabies for the Film Curious George, his penchant for lazy tempos and fluttery acoustic guitars suited the kid-friendly release. But Static suffers because its songs are almost too nonchalant, with little to no tempo variation beyond “mid-tempo” to sustain interest—or prevent drowsiness.
This sleepy atmosphere is disappointing, as it obscures Johnson’s subtly gorgeous music: “Go On” features twinges of piano, while the glowing soul gems “Monsoon” and “All at Once” skew closer to Ben Harper territory. Other tracks—such as delicate folk ditty “Same Girl” and bluesy ballad “Losing Keys”—showcase Johnson’s rich tenor, which (as always) is pleasant and campfire-intimate. Lyrically as well, the album is guardedly confessional, entirely uncontroversial and veers between cheesiness and depth, whether addressing love (“Angel”) or the perils of war (the title track).
In the end, there’s no question that you can sleep through the lullaby-like Static. A better question might be: Can you stay awake through the Static?
–Annie Zaleski
[Alt-Rock]
Bob Mould
District Line
***
It’s been quite a ride for Bob Mould. His seminal punk band Hüsker Dü helped launch grunge, while power trio Sugar blasted eardrums in the early ’90s. But as a solo artist, he’s been all over the board; from earnest, acoustic stem-winders to disco-infused electronica, he’s tried it all. He even quit the biz to write professional wrestling scripts for a time, but returned with the bracing Body of Song in 2005.
Now, the 47-year-old is back with another pretty conventional effort—hook-laden, guitar-driven and filled with lyrics that sound like the transcript from a therapy session. Mould has never been afraid to lay his heart bare on the ground for all to see, which he does convincingly on the haunting “Again and Again,” a painfully effective breakup song for grownups. “I never found the trust I needed from you/Everything you did was making me wonder,” he sings. “My biggest mistake was taking you in again and again.”
There’s some catchy up-tempo action here, most notably “Who Needs to Dream,” “Return to Dust,” and “Miniature People,” which showcase the drumming of Fugazi’s Brendan Canty. But Mould falters a bit when he returns to his electronic phase on the uneven “Shelter Me,” which underscores that his best work comes against a backdrop of guitars, not keyboards. –Patrick Donnelly
[Power Pop]
Nada Surf
Lucky
***
Still one of the most satisfying one-two-three punches in indie rock, Nada Surf has always been too raucous to win over all the emo kids and too emo to win over all the punks. Maybe Matthew Caws’ ability to balance his melancholy moments with his desire to rock out—something that bassist Daniel Lorca and prolific drummer Ira Elliot are happy to indulge—has held him back, but he’s sounding pretty settled these days, perfectly content with never being as popular as he was after he released “Popular.”
While this comparison might make them cringe, Nada Surf’s turned into something like a more indie Goo Goo Dolls, with plenty of money notes and sweetly sincere moments on their new album. Caws is in his forties now, an age where it’s so not cool to worry about being cool, and you just know that he knows that. (His last album included the lyrics “Always love/hate will get you every time.)
“Whose Authority” offers both a New Pornographers’ whistle-along hook and Caws’ typical pensiveness as he shakes the listener back into “real life” and ponders how to stay happily settled and where patience comes from. Caws has always been fixated with outer space and gravity and being weighed down, whether he’s declaring that “the weight is a gift” or hurtling himself into “hyperspace.” On “Weightless,” he gets all serious. “Behind every desire is another one waiting to be liberated when the first one is sated,” he sings, but then he and his band shake off their malaise and roar once again. – Andy Wang