The old five-point scale has been retired in favor of just rating stuff 1-10, which allows me a much more nuanced final rating. Still don't take it that seriously. Most of these come from my own collection, so the grades skew rather high. Your results may vary if you send me stuff to review.
Each album is given three Essential tracks, my personal favorites, regardless of how weird and inconsequential they are. The Quintessential pick is the one I think best represents the album as a whole, so you can try one song instead of a whole album of songs. Non-Essential picks range from merely disappointing to outright unlistenable.
Cinematic technological disturbance.
I try to avoid mentioning rubbernecky music journo stories in these reviews, but the absence of former lead singer-bassist Eugene Goreshter on this album is conspicuous after news of his dismissal from the band and conviction for drug running surfaced this year. Greg and Carla take over vocals across the entire album, and with the increased presence of synthbasses on Pussy's Dead, his rumbly pulses are a little missed. Worse yet, the early singles foretold a strong experimental electronica influence on this one, all drum machines and sludgy synths, and Boots--yes, Beyoncé and Run the Jewels producer Boots--ran the boards for it. Is it a different group now? Is this Autolux modernizing their sound? Thankfully not. The electronics do loom large, yes, but by leaning on Carla Azar's drums as the basis for these ten songs, it plays less like a genre shift and more like a natural evolution.
This album really is Carla's singularly; damn near every song is driven by some of the most memorable drumwork you'll hear this year or any year (numerous examples: "Soft Scene"'s coda, the marching "Hamster Suite", the pounding "Brainwasher", especially the twitchy, buzzy "Junk for Code"). If anything, Boots' presence helps to temper the band's antisocial tendencies, encouraging them to go bold organically instead of slamming you in the outro (check out how "Becker" builds, it's awesome). "Change My Head" is about the only song where that approach doesn't work out; it's a rewrite of their early B-side "Future Perfect" that switches out the narcosis for grandness, and while it fits the record sonically, I just don't think it sits as nicely on the palate or suits the unchanged lyrics much. Other than that--don't be alarmed, it's very much still our Autolux.
| Essential: | Quintessential: | Non-Essential: | Rating: |
|---|---|---|---|
| "Junk for Code", "Anonymous", "Becker" | "Soft Scene" | "Change My Head" |  |
The alien overcomes the machine, and it works out beautifully.
I spent the entirety of the Future Perfect review praising how noisy and nutso it all sounded, and then they went and tossed all that out for the sequel. (I full well knew this, having heard the latter before the former.) In place of clunky drums, there's shuffly clicks. In place of gnarled guitars, there's hypoxic strumming. Songs exist in an inky void, not an industrial space filled with sharp tools. The subtle approach had put a couple of Autolux fans to sleep no doubt, but where Transit Transit works is it hones in on its predecessor's hypnotic element. Songs like "Subzero Fun" and "Capital Kind of Strain" were powered by repetitive, alienated riffage, songs that ride one chord for the majority of their runtime, and Transit Transit is nothing if not very pleasingly hypnotic.
That's not to say there aren't some rockers ("Census" is great and "Supertoys" is Supercool), but Autolux is more concerned with warping sounds than fuzzing them this time out. Pianos are a much bigger component of the mix; like Future Perfect, Greg gets his lead vocal moment halfway through on the downright distressed piano ballad "Spots", and piano chords chime through the Carla-led closer "The Science of Imaginary Solutions". It's really when you let Autolux get into your head, like during "The Bouncing Wall"'s mental break ("I feel nothing, you are not here/I am free, the wall is bouncing") or on the creeping, whispering "Highchair" ("In your highchair spitting up/Let the sunlight strangle you"), that they prove Transit Transit a highly worthy, if not as immediately exciting, follow-up.
| Essential: | Quintessential: | Non-Essential: | Rating: |
|---|---|---|---|
| "Highchair", "Supertoys", "The Bouncing Wall" | "Audience No. 2" | "Transit Transit" |  |
A poppy whirlwind with an airtight tracklisting.
If there's one thing about modern alternative that gets me, it's that it doesn't kick you square in your ass anymore. Lazy, folky guitars, soulless electronica--puts you right to sleep. And that's where Future Perfect gets it right. The first ten seconds of the album is of Carla Azar's steady, pummeling drumwork, all by its lonesome. Bassist Eugene Goreshter's fading, twee vocals pop in with guitars on loan from Failure's Greg Edwards, and later a noise section akin to a bandsaw against sheet metal takes over. Autolux's sonic template is made clear. The band's endured comparisons to My Bloody Valentine since its inception, but the You Made Me Realise era is about the only incarnation Autolux actually resembles. It's well and truly a sound of their own.
The first half of the record are all noise pop gems, but it isn't until "Great Days for the Passenger Element" that it really starts to slipstream into its flow. "Robots in the Garden" is a lightning-quick panic attack, hailing icicles of shrill feedback over cryptic lyrics. "Here Comes Everybody" sneers at hangers-on, which only makes Carla's coo on "Asleep at the Trigger" even gentler by comparison. "Plantlife" is stunningly hypnotic--the more tender side of grey goo, perhaps. And once you've picked yourself up off the floor after "Capital Kind of Strain" manages to wring startling dynamics from a mix this brickwalled, you'll come to realize that, as far as alternative goes, Future Perfect is a goddamn high watermark, indie kids be damned.
| Essential: | Quintessential: | Non-Essential: | Rating: |
|---|---|---|---|
| "Robots in the Garden", "Plantlife", "Capital Kind of Strain" | "Angry Candy" | Not a fuckin' track |  |
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