Weekly Release Spotlight: Neon Neon

Posted on 3/31/2008

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Neon Neon

Stainless Style

[Lex]

Raquel Welch, Michael Douglas, Princess Leia, and the Dolorean: it's as if popular culture could have died in 1989 and no one would have been the wiser. These references and more infiltrate the synth-hop meets synth-pop playground constructed by Cincinatti's dark electro producer Boom Bip and Welsh Super Furry Animals frontman Gruff Rhys on their debut collaborative effort as the appropriately named Neon Neon. Sure, fetishizing the decade that will be eternally remembered for its greedy lavishness and excess is nothing groundbreaking in the world of modern pop music, but it's so often done in a precocious and post-ironic manner. Have you been Rick Roll'd yet? No? Well, you should Google it. How about Goonies - when was the last time you yelled "Hey you guys!" and snickered at your perfect Sloth impression? This is all innocent and harmless, but Neon Neon have created an album that doesn't just hark back to those days - it completely immerses itself in the culture, the beloved and the tortured moments of it all, wrapped into one incredibly textured and delightful package.

The most initially off-putting aspect of the disc is its fearlessness to give control over to its two distinct halves. It is quite noticeable which songs the more hip-hop-influenced Boom Bip helms into more metallic and smoky territory ("Trick for Treat") and which songs the more sunny pop-inspired Rhys night drives into pleasant hooks and sugary choruses ("Belfast"). However, the very purpose of this album gives the duo every reason to explore both sides of the decade's synthetic nature, because the darkness and lightness that derives from the 1980s cannot truly exist as one. Much of the world endured a divisive two-faced world at this time, and so Neon Neon does the same with their music. The track-by-track push and pull evokes the smirking tongue-in-cheek jokes that continually battle the existential arrogance of a Bret Easton Ellis protagonist. His novels equally repel and attract its readers, much like the average listener willing to dive into Stainless Style.

Regardless of the album's herky-jerky nature, justified or not, the individual songs work so well as playlist hits (which is perfect for your local college radio station, natch) that almost every track is impossible to ignore. Another relic of the 1980s, the Pharcyde's wacky hip-hopper Fat Lip, offers a deep and dirty repetitive groove on "Sweat Shop," while the new kings of neon-colored rhymes, Spank Rock turn an otherwise Rhys-centric sound upside down on the insanely colorful "Dream Cars." While these tracks concentrate on the more cynical and depressing subjects of the album's theme, the high points have yet to be discussed. Far and away, the Leia love letter "I Told Her on Alderaan" soars above the rest of the album, capturing the yearning of a lost geek soul and totally owning anyone's ears that pay attention to the chorus. And perhaps this is why the bright and beautiful parts of the 80s are the ones we hold on to dearly as we pretend the rest never happened. "Hey you guys!" Let's dance to Neon Neon.

Written by Chris Polley, Radio K volunteer and host of Now Like Photographs.