Somewhere between a glossy mid-2000s pop album and a hefty, DIY ravestarter project, this collaboration manages to cultivate a rare tongue-in-cheek energy by winking cheekily at an oft-maligned past.
“Straight to hell and come back” the album opener declares, one imagines a singed Winona Ryder in that last scene of Heathers firing this line off through a huff of cigarette smoke. Delivered through distorted alarms over a fat kick in the Dub Mix at the end, it’s danceable dynamite. This collaboration between “audacious, undeniable party starter” Chippy Nonstop and Toronto-Based producer DJ Genderfluid lands somewhere between a glossy mid-2000s pop album and a hefty, DIY ravestarter project: certainly terra incognita, at least this far on the techno side of the dance music bifurcation.
The often brash lyrics are delivered with an almost confrontational juicy-fruit bite, discussing explicit sexual acts and bold declarations of female autonomy with equivalent cheeky buoyancy.
A certain nostalgia for a specific early-mid 2000’s LA aesthetic has survived in certain tributaries of the internet (ahem, Tumblr): Paris and Nicole on the simple life, Lindsay Lohan cruising in a Maybach between clubs on Vine, manic panic Chihuahuas in tiaras peering out from Birkin bags, garish Von Dutch hats and pink Juicy Couture velour tracksuits as the uniform of the valley girl apex predator. A bizarre, underground yearning for this simpler time has been experiencing a kind of mini-comeback in certain strata of high-camp hyperpop (think Slayyyter and Ayesha Erotica). It survives here in lyricism, production, and overall attitude. Breathy allusions to “drama” and “haters” or expressions of disappointment or infatuation with a one night stand abound; along with unapologetic, Heidi Montag levels of autotune. It’s all delivered with a certain alchemical vapidity with a wink, remanufacturing something which was already self-referential and manufactured to begin with; generating powerful shockwaves of recursive nostalgia for a time when glitzy tabloid materialism was all anyone really had to complain about.
Straightforward but still playful rave techno production on tracks like “NRG” and “No Sleep” make for welcome standouts during a long night of techno for any DJ brave enough to play something with so many distinctive, upfront lyrics. It is an unfortunate reality that many DJs in the quote-unquote serious techno scene these days are not playing tracks where vocals take a front seat, which is a shame.
The production on the vocals helps fold them into the fabric of the song in some cases, functioning as another groove element. Or, it stand out entirely: a metal-plated and sometimes electrically shredded instrument of chaotic-neutral provocation. A voice is after all one of the most sonically complex instruments at our disposal (especially after heavy processing): the ultimate modular synth in a sense, and to totally abhor a vocal in techno music leaves this possibility, the innate psychic link of hearing another human voice, off the table.
“Leave me alone, don’t touch me there, it’s not your turn, no don’t you dare.” She declares in “Don’t you dare!” simultaneously providing anyone in need of an escape route from some creepazoid on the dance floor an effective script for just that.
“Crop top, and Jimmy Choos, know my name it’s on the news” she rap-sings over a vintage house beat and synth power-chords, daring you to take it all seriously. By winking at an oft-maligned time and style, the release manages to cultivate a now-rare energy: totally infectious and fun, unserious, and unpretentious dance music. So pull on that pink JC tracksuit and let’s hit Les Deux.
-Winston Mann
Link – Bandcamp
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