Hot Chip – Made in the Dark (astralwerks)

I like Hot Chip for a lot of reasons, many of them having to do with the concept of stiff Brits indebted to Prince and brilliant, electro-castrophies with keyboards that were probably stolen from your brother’s bar mitzvah. But on Made in the Dark, the dance nerds’ third in a line of Beta Band-meets-Bangers and Mash-sound, there are seriously some tracks that verge on a Flight Of The Conchords-type MIDI ridiculousness.

Take the instrumental break of opener “Out of the Pictures,” shrieking like a baboon in punctured frenetic beats. Or “Shake A Fist,” featuring a sly Texan’s description of the sounds that can be made in the studio. (Apparently, sonic robots that probably induce seizures.) “Bendable Poseable” takes a ragga reggeton beat with a DJ that oscillates between a falsetto Brit accent, and a faux-rastafarian, repeating the phrases “Bendable/ Poseable,” “wanna knee slide up and down,” and simply, “time delay—time delay,” as bass lines loop around like lazy skipping ropes.

But in Hot Chip’s frantic, text-message-like, jangle of beats, there’s sweetness in their slow-jamz. “One Pure Thought,” “Whistle For Will,” and “We’re Looking For A Lot Of Love” have a modernism that can only be articulated in Phillip Glass keyboards, choruses of “oohs and ahhs,” and spindly backing vocals, barely textured into the mix. On these tracks the lead singer will often adopt a bruised female perspective—an awesome rock n’ roll technique that hasn’t been copped since Whitetown’s “Your Woman.” This record knows its references, including Living Color metal heroics, and glittery-rock pleas for lost love (“Made in the Dark”). Not to mention my favorite irono-lyric, playing up the relation between half—and Willie—nelsons (“Wrestlers”), as wind chimes and U2-single guitars collide in the sweltering blaze.

There are some musicians who are worried that laptop wielders are becoming the new rock stars. Hot Chip takes it one step further: they don’t even want to be at the same parties. Not that they’re invited.

—Chandler Levack

Goldfrapp – Seventh Tree (Mute)

Goldfrapp’s latest album of whimsical melodies opens with a lilting, acoustic criticism of breast implants, an unexpected subject in a song titled “Clowns,” but naturally, the London duo pull it off. As usual, Goldfrapp’s sensual electronic sounds caress the listener with seductively ethereal sounds and lyrics that run from simple to poetic, to socially conscious to just plain pretty. Perhaps a little too pretty—the sound of this CD is soft and airy throughout, with little if any variation, lacking the intensity of some of Goldfrapp’s previous recordings. But if Alison Goldfrapp (vocals) and Will Gregory (synths) can be criticized for a lack of tonal variation, they’re congratulated for their consistency—at moments, Seventh Tree feels less like a collection, and more like a single song punctuated with pauses, and the occasional tease at a strong beat or change in pace. An excellent album for a romantic evening, or the world’s most relaxed intellectual party, but little to fi nd yourself humming afterwards.

—Rae Matthews