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Pif Magazine
ISSN: 1094-2726
Published by:
Pif, LLC
PMB 248
4820 Yelm Hwy SE
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Lacey, WA 98503-4903
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Even Better Than The Real Thing: Page 1, 2, 3
At first, this extended elemental drone section bothered me because it so clashed with the gloss and finish of the rest of the CD. But soon the drone songs began to eviscerate their own palatability. I've since come to view the rest of the CD as an elaborate context created solely for the purpose of drawing out the loveliness of these initially difficult drone songs. Would a band do something so contrived – juxtapose rough gems and polished gems in order to force us to recognize the rough gems as something other than mere rubble? This band just might.
The fact that Stereolab sounds like minimalist composer Steve Reich is an unexpected yet not surprising revelation. Reich has spent his entire musical career pursuing a kind of tessellated loop that doesn't bore. Music for 18 Musicians, Reich's crowning achievement, is a 56-minute iteration full of subtle changes only noticeable upon close listening. Reich's music rewards and illuminates, while simultaneously being readily ignorable. Stereolab's music is the same way. Cobra's loopy pleasantness belies its singular genius – the ability to transport its listener to a place that's totally other. It's not rock music. It's not jazz music. It's lounge music alright but of such intricacy and intention that its closest musical kin is modern orchestral minimalism.
Just like William Gibson's novels transport you to a world you've never known but nonetheless recognize as palpable and relevant, so too Stereolab's music beams you to the lounge that never was but should have been. Listening to Cobra and Phases Group Play Voltage in the Milky Night is like being trapped inside Sade's "Smooth Operator" video forever. It's like Groundhog Day on valium.
Some might not want to visit such a hyper-real world, but for an escapist like me, why not? Why do I want the real thing when I can have something even better than the real thing? Why do I want a Coke when I can have a Cherry Coke? Why do I want to listen to the Bee Gees when I can listen to Abba? Why do I want to go to a concert by the artist formerly known as Prince when I can go hear Beck sing "Debra"? Why read Jean Cocteau when I can listen to the Cocteau Twins? Why listen to run DMC when I can listen to the Beastie Boys' Hello Nasty? Why listen to men rapping in English when I can listen to women singing in French? Why read hyper-text when I can interact with hyper-media? Why be influenced by Count Basie when I can be influenced by Steely Dan?
Ultimately, in art, what is the real thing? Art is all mediated and unreal anyway, so why not jack into the coolest neo-mutation you can find? Why plow through the "original" if it's just plain not as good its 2.0 iteration? True, you'll never get a real physical workout playing Terminator 2 for the Sony Playstation, but then working out is primarily a body thing. Music is primarily a spirit thing. So why not get freaky with it?
Cobra and Phases Group is a laudable progression into the chromium heart of some hyper-real Jungian lounge nirvana, continually revealing itself as the disc turns. Sure it's a little repetetive, but so is the mythical phoenix, and nobody ever bemoaned its loopy antics!
If you can stomach Stereolab's unabashed sheen, then I'll see you in the ultra-lounge. You won't be denied. Check me out across the bar, sucking down a tall Cherry Coke martini. Mind you lay off of my blue suede top-siders.
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Curt Cloninger is so deep into the Steely Dan box set right now that he can't even think of a metaphor to describe how deep into it he is.
Visit Curt at his dream library, Lab404.