Classic_Pop_Issue_30_July_2017

PHOENIX

TI AMO

GLASSNOTE / ATLANTIC RECORDS

BLACK GRAPE

POP VOODOO

UMC

© Getty Images

in explosive style with J-Boy,

whose twinkling synths

and syncopated beat are

guaranteed to make the summer

seem utterly trouble-free, it

treads familiar ground as

unapologetically as it avoids

contemporary events.

Lovelife’s keyboards fl utter

like butterfl y wings, while

Fleur De Lys leans heavily on

fl ighty 80s pop, much as their

compatriots M83 did on last

year’s Junk. Tuttifrutti updates

the AM/FM era’s soft rock for

the MDMA generation, and the

glossy funk of Goodbye Soleil

struts like it’s dressed in a white

silk summer suit.

Admittedly the slower tracks

are less immediately persuasive.

Fior De Latte – named after

an ice cream – sounds like it’s

spent a little too long in the sun.

But if the comparative simplicity

of the closing Telefono seems

throwaway, it can’t shake

the album’s overwhelmingly

buoyant mood. Phoenix’s rise

looks unstoppable. WW

Perhaps it was always

inevitable that Phoenix would

become one of France’s biggest

bands. By the time guitarist

Laurent Brancowitz joined his

younger brother, Christian

Mazzalai, he’d already played

in a group with Daft Punk’s two

members, and, alongside singer

Thomas Mars and bassist Deck

d’Arcy, they were soon acting

as Air’s backing musicians.

Their debut, 2000’s United,

met with critical acclaim, but

it was the use of Too Young

in Sofi a Coppola’s Lost In

Translation that helped propel

them into hipster circles.

By the end of the 21st

Century’s fi rst decade, they

were a Top 40 act in the

United States, and nowadays

they’re headlining festivals and

luxuriating in the opportunity to

ensure their records sound ‘just

so’ before they’re released.

Ti Amo’s title track, a rich mix

of disco and New Wave, fi nds

them revelling in the privileges

of fame, offering “Champagne

or Prosecco”, declaring their

love in multiple languages,

“sunbathing in Rio”, and even

inviting people to “open up

your legs”.

They acknowledge how the

world has changed in the time

it’s taken them to complete their

sixth record – they began work

in late 2014 – so instead offer

it up as an escapist fantasy.

Its protracted genesis has

been worthwhile. Opening

he advises us: “You left me

naked in my socks/ You left

me holding all the rock/ You

put your joint out on my cock”,

while his grunted “Cum!” on

Young And Dumb is simply

puerile. There are fl ashes of

wit elsewhere, like Shame’s

melodic tip to both Bowie’s

Fame and the similarly titled

1980 fi lm. However, even

the best is signposted – the

promising but clumsy: “This is

the fi rst day of the rest of my

nine lives” opens a song

called Nine Lives.

From time to time, there’s

cause for hope: the title track,

in particular, boasts a muscle-

bound chorus that – most likely

unconsciously – borrows from

Depeche Mode’s Just Can’t Get

Enough, while Money Burns

offers a sleazy groove that

wouldn’t be out of place on

Happy Mondays’ Pills ‘n’ Thrills

And Bellyaches.

Otherwise, though, this is

undignifi ed, recorded with all

the care of its hastily scribbled

cover. It’s really not so great

when they’re straight. WW

If it wasn’t that all that remains

of Black Grape are Shaun

Ryder and Kermit, you could

be forgiven for dismissing

their comeback as a typically

dysfunctional family reunion.

But that would still be little

excuse for this disaster.

Written, recorded and mixed

in four weeks – Oh, how that

shows! – Pop Voodoo is a

calamitous mess of scrappy

lyrics (Shame’s “Running

around with a habit/ With

his hand inside his jacket/ He

can outrun a rabbit” is just

one criminal use of a rhyming

dictionary) and tired breakbeats

not heard since Stereo MCs got

themselves connected.

Billed as “testament to Ryder’s

reigning social and political

commentary”, Everything You

Know Is Wrong – Intro sets the

tone, its digs at Donald Trump

reaching the erudite verdict:

“He’s a knobhead”. At best

reminiscent of the Poundland,

early 90s indie dance of The

Soup Dragons, it sounds like

producer Youth was left to

rescue the consequences of the

duo’s latest night on spice. The

rest of the album sounds like he

never forgave them.

But chemicals are no excuse

here either: Ryder recently

claimed they’re “not feeding

habits any more... Sex and

drugs has gone”, making the

hedonism of which he boasts

yet more hollow.

On String Theory, whose

simple riff and monotonous

delivery soon wear thin,

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CP30.reviews.print.indd 91 08/06/2017 15:34