In Diegesis

Delorean is making the best dance music around right now. They’ve got that wonderful maximalism of early Basement Jaxx and Daft Punk, the super-euphoric psych-dance-layerings of MPP-Animal Collective (think “Brothersport”), the Balearic ecstatic sound of Swede-pop groups like Air France and The Tough Alliance, and fortunately, they’ve also got a new album coming out, “Subiza”, which I’m happy to report is not going to include a single gem from their terrific Ayrton Senna EP. This might be worrisome (like, the more songs, the more chances for mediocrity, right?) if not for the absolute wonder that is new single and opening track, “Stay Close”. The truly wonderful thing about Delorean (which is demonstrated remarkably on “Stay Close”, which you can check out here: http://pitchfork.com/reviews/tracks/11862-stay-close/) is that they make music which reveals the line between content and form as being a total illusion (which it is). Their music is so damn whole; the music and the lyrics get lost and found in one another; they share the same earnestness. The song is the lyrics and the music; the song is the feeling; the feeling is explored through the lyrics; the lyrics are wholly enveloped in the music; the music is the song! It’s impossible to abstract anything from anything in a Delorean song, which, I might add, makes it very difficult to write about but all the more worth it. Ultimately, though, the only reason I am writing about it is to persuade someone to listen to it, and listening is really the best and only way to experience a Delorean song. So…do it? That’s a rhetorical question.

My favorite band circa ages seventeen-thru-nineteen has a new album coming out on May 18, entitled “LCD Sound of Platinum”…just kidding, but -!- for the sake of a point. First single, “Drunk Girls”, does manage to combine the raucously energetic urgency-of-expression which illuminated much of LCD’s first self-titled album (uh, “Movement”) with the wise-man retrospective sincerity of their sophomore effort, “Sound of Silver”. “Oh-oh-ooooohhhhh, I believe in waking up together” James Murphy croons , “so-oh-oooooooohhhhhhhhh, that means making eyes across the room.” We all know what waits in between the two events, and you can guess from the title what sort of substance Murphy might suggest using to accomplish that middle ground. Sure, there’s an immorality (you rationalize by saying “she consented” but even sex between two people when one person isn’t as into it as the other constitutes something comparable to rape – think about it), but there’s also a goodness (uh, love; i mean, on some level, one night stands aren’t just fun because you get to cum; you also get to MEET someone!), and it’s that goodness which elevates this song two-thirds of the way through (note that the transcendant, epic and building near-finish BEGINS with the good; the soaring riff starts with Murphy saying “I believe in waking up together”). The finish and hope for goodness wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying, though, without the beginning chants and Murphy comparing drunk boys to pedophiles. Oh, and aesthetically, this song is bangin’ and will help you dance, which your doctor told me you ought to be doing more anyhow. That it makes me want to feel like a twenty-something year-old is an extra bonus; here’s to engaging in immaturity for the sake of the good (and also to being exactly twenty as the post-SoS album comes out; man, I love making meaning, it’s way more personally useful/rewarding than critiquing).

Check out the song here: http://pitchfork.com/news/38291-listen-lcd-soundsystem-drunk-girls/