Stereolab – ‘Instant Holograms on Metal Film’ album review: sophistication, at last
THE SKINNY: Stereolab create the soundtrack for the life you dream of. Their 11th album, Instant Holograms on Metal Film, is the sound of a dinner party in a retrofied Parisian apartment with beautiful people. The oozing psychedelic guitars, jazzy krautrock rhythms, free-form melodies, and briefly audible philosophical vocal quips seem to conjure the notion of chatting about the post-industrial-complex over fine wine in the vicinity of a rotund sunset orange lamp that cost over £500.
If that sounds a tad pretentious and wishy-washy to you, then c’est la vie, this record has no time for you—just leave quietly and let the beautiful people marvel over how it seamlessly blends disco with Soviet lounge via metric ambiguity resolved through polyrhythmic interplay. For pity’s sake, allow us to forget all the horrid algorithms of this world for a moment and bask in the balm of sophisticated contrametric accentuation, that somehow still allows us to dance our brogues off.
Parking glibness and giving in to the musicology for a genuine moment, on their first original album in 15 years, the Anglo-French band deliver something close to a perfectly honed masterpiece. It’s an hour long and it is clearly deeply considered, but there’s too much disco in the mix for that to ever become overly fraught. When the moments arise where it all seems at risk of being a little too self-conscious and overwrought, emotional inertia is whisked away by a beat so danceable even Paul Shaffer could let his hair down.
It’s a journey of an album that visits Mario Kart sounds, bossa nova, shoegaze and electronica along the way—often in the same song. But it is also distinct, welcoming and catchy. It flows like good wine on a Friday night, and without being too schmoozy, it makes a bold statement about what has been missing since their last release in 2010. This is highbrow music for lowbrow times, and it dances interestingly on the precipice of that interplay in a manner you can’t even begin to understand.
For fans of: Beaded curtains that hang over the entrance to your ’70s-style kitchen, where you only ever cook for prearranged dinner parties.
A concluding comment from Tom’s mother: “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch a single word of it. I assume it’s about blancmange and swinging?”
Instant Holograms on Metal Film track by track:
Release: May 23rd | Producer: Stereolab| Label: Duophonic UHF Disks
‘Mystical Plosives’: A bright, hopeful balm of space electro from a rejuvenated future. ‘Welcome to an upbeat album,’ it seems to effortlessly impart. [4/5]
‘Aerial Troubles’: The upbeat disco continues as retro French electro collides with crisp modern production and Stereolab’s classic shoegaze air to create a unique toe-tapper that carries more weight than its flighty melody lets on. [4.5/5]
‘Melodie is a Wound’: A rolling, almost-maudlin krautrock opening stanza develops slowly into a luscious early 2000s disco indie groove reminiscent of The Cardigans going through a psychedelic phase. It is a long, potent waltz. [4/5]
‘Immortal Hands’: Pretty, sustained strums are interjected with a glittering, shimmering synth sequence. A beautiful topline melody that vocalises memories, cityscapes and the relation between both, whisks you away on an ambient wave of nostalgia. [4/5]
‘Vermona F Transistor’: The oscillating production makes it difficult to pick out the lyrics, but the captivating melody doesn’t make that seem like a loss. Once again, the song builds and sways in a feat of fine compositional skill. [3.5/5]
‘Le Couer Et La Force’: A strange, unsyncopated bassline takes the lead, and keeps you transfixed on your toes as you journey into Soviet lounge and chamber pop. It’s a blissful, heady journey that feels like walking through a bead curtain doorway to a Bulgakov novel. [4/5]
‘Electrified Teenybop’: Things get carelessly cheesy as the group venture into a Mario Kart sound, but at this stage, you’re so invested in the otherworldly journey of the album that the weird departure is an easy one to embrace. [3/5]
‘Transmuted Matter’: On a whim, the chamber pop returns. An experimental echo chamber creates a world of surreal layering, while the beat is one Damo Suzuki would be delighted to deal with. [3.5/5]
‘Esemplastic Creeping Eruption’: While the melody and musicology are similar to what you’ve heard before on the album, the production goes into overdrive, experimenting with echo, pacing changes and EQ switches. [4/5]
‘If You Remember I Forgot How to Dream Pt 1’: A dreamy drive through Southern California in a classic sports car springs to mind. The breezy guitar is full of psychedelic character, while clever rhythmic interplays weave the song into a waltzing dance beyond your understanding. Jazz, bossa nova, and indie pop all collide in a gorgeous retro mix. [5/5]
‘Flashes From Everywhere’: The calm after the party. This sombre cut is reflective and dark, but it vows to continue the record’s knack for surprises as it leaves its Brian Eno beginnings behind and bursts into a heavier jam. [4/5]
‘Colour Television’: Once again, the dreamy, saturated guitar sound returns, but it is beautifully played with. Notes sustain for long enough to establish a mood, and then sharp strums bring a sense of movement and rhythm, defining the musical motif of the album. [3.5/5]
‘If You Remember I Forgot How to Dream Pt 2’: The final coda is the record’s kitchen sink, a manic encapsulation of all that has gone before. And somehow, like David Bowie’s ‘Warszawa’, it works. [4/5]
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