Review of 'My Guilty Pleasure'

Well, what can I say? The title says it all. Sally Shapiro are exactly that. Yet, why should I feel guilty? They (for Sally Shapiro are actually a duo consisting of Swedish producer Johan Agebjörn and a mysterious, unidentified female vocalist) make me feel exquisite. Sally Shapiro are doing with their second full-length studio album, My Guilty Pleasure, exactly what Sandra should have done with her most recent album, Back To Life. And these albums were both released the same year. It seems as though those who emulate early Italo-disco artists sometimes outdo them. Recall my previous post on Faith, Power and Glory, and how VNV Nation have managed to evolve without sounding poncey or lacklustre. In the present case, I find, the featured artist has reversed the trend toward boring adult contemporary music among older artists.

Because I adore Sally Shapiro, let me save the best for last and begin with the weakest point of their new album. The second single from the album, Love in July, is an insipid mistake with lyrics such as, "give me your love in July . . . you make the sun shine" and "dry off the tears in my eyes. Don't let me down. I'll be around". Now, normally such lyrics actually have a perennial appeal--they reflect that strange heartache one feels when one has lost a true love and feels actual physiological effects. One can only relate to such a simple message if one has felt truly excruciating loss. These messages, however, could have been communicated other than through an irregular dubstep bass drum, which, hideous to begin with, suggests an escape into some aggressive, epileptic, drug-fuelled ecstasy. Conveyed with the right melody, chords, notes, etc., they can move one. It's a dicey and difficult balance to achieve. The essential qualities of the composition have potential--they were simply perverted by the style of the bass drum.

Seemingly conventional lyrics are actually what is most appealing about Sally Shapiro. A work can sound burdensome, pretentious, ineffective with cryptic or pretentious lyrical content, which is why simple and straightforward messages work well with the right melody and orchestration. And Sally Shapiro basically achieve this effect throughout the rest of My Guilty Pleasure. Listening to Dying in Africa, I initially scorned the writer as provincial for fixating on a lover "even if they're dying in Africa", but I came to think how profound a singular love must be to distract one from issues of global importance. This particular song reminds the listener how magnetic, how immobilizing, an object of love can be, how easily one can shift one's priorities. As an elegantly punctuated bassline glides in the background, the vocalist sings, "I never knew anybody could make me cry like this". Well, I suppose that in Sweden we have time to analyse our lovelorn tears, but it sounds so divine.

Finally, there is My Fantasy. When I think of this song, I remember how excited I was that North Americans received it as the b-side of the single He Keeps Me Alive before the Europeans got a hold of it commercially in any form. Now, when I spoke of straightforward lyrics, I was thinking about this song. It is not only optimistic, but playful, seductive, even sinister, perhaps because of the minor keys. The vocalist muses, "I call you up for a rendezvous, another night with just me and you. / I feel so warm when I meet your eyes. I'm flyin' high somewhere in the skies". It is one of those moments where, in a complex, almost inscrutable tone, she expresses a powerful self-confidence in relation to her lover. The song presents an urgent yet mysterious message of craving, coasting along a classic melody, syncopated bass guitar, punching snares, and a relentless four-to-the-floor bass drum.

Sally Shapiro's new album--well, both of Sally Shapiro's albums, really--offer relief from the more pretentious forms of indie music which pile gratuitous amounts of obscure references onto their works; they effectively convey messages about the most basic and important human emotions juxtaposed with the sleekest, most modern aesthetics available in contemporary music.



Image ©2009 Paper Bag

Review of 'No. 2'

Swedish band JJ released their first full-length album, No. 2, on the Swedish record label Sincerely Yours in July, 2009. The moment I first played the album, I was smitten. With the recent incorporation of dance-oriented sounds into indie music, which has broken down the unnecessary and artificial barrier between dance and rock music, new bands have poured forth a cornucopia of works which reflect the aesthetics of disco, electro, and synthpop. I will not expound on how this trend may already be five or so years old, because I believe good music is perennial and that it should be an ongoing experiment.

No. 2 shows off a set of sweet songs with soft cadences characterising a sound termed by some as Balearic disco (as distinct from late 1980s and early 1990s Balearic beat), which, at least in its twenty-first century manifestation, serves as a sort of traditionally-written after-thought to the harder, more monotonous sounds heard in the clubs of Spain's Las Islas Baleares, specifically the famous party resort of Ibiza. Most of the songs feature unassuming vocals which coast gently and carefully from key to key without vulgar vocal acrobatics, while a loping four-to-the-floor beat trips lightly in the background, interrupted occasionally by an invasive yet playful conga drum. Meanwhile, eerie violins create a fantastic, ethereal backdrop. The final effect is a bouncey, luxurious romp through the subtropics reminiscent of other Balearic and Cosmic disco acts such as Norway's Hans-Peter Lindstrøm or Prins Thomas.

Listening to No. 2, one is reminded of Culture Club's Do You Really Want To Hurt Me or Erasure's Blue Savannah; Masterplan even sounds uncannily like a mid-tempo track from the latter band's 1997 album, Cowboy. The wash of plaintive, distant vocals, light guitars, shrill strings, and soft drums create a refreshingly unpretentious, care-free atmosphere which anybody can enjoy over a mint julip on a humid summer day, or even over a double Long Island iced-tea at one of the more daring discotheques of the night.

Image ©2009 Sincerely Yours