R.I.P. Balearic Disco

2009 marks the death of Balearic Disco from none other than the princes of the genre, Lindstrom & Prins Thomas who release second album “II”, that slices across the beach-based discoball like two bloody streaks from a prog-wizard’s claw. On “II”, L&PT take a sip from the 7up can rumoured to be laced with LSD being passed around at Ash Ra Tempel’s “Seven Up” LP recording session – out goes the Balearic washes and extended reverberating synths, and in comes motorik neo-krautrock basslines, twinkling effects that jaggedly spiral in and out of control, and crashing soundtracks to stylised wars on imaginary worlds. The epic discotronics of Lindstrøm’s collaborations with Solale are still here, but the perfectly regimented and repeating arpeggios are replaced with organic prog-rock that sounds like Aeroplane producing Tangerine Dream in the early years.

Lindstrøm & Prins Thomas – Tirsdagsjam (Lang Versjon)

“Tirsdagsjam” doesn’t appear on the album but is featured on an upcoming 12″. Its an epic and curvaceous sci-fi love song to disco dancing, with freeform mellotrons stuttering over a hi-speed instrumental version of an outtake from Brian Eno’s “Here Come The Warm Jets” LP. At times it gets beautifully tangled up in itself but effortlessly segues into another sonic hallway with a quick key change.

12″ released April 13th, album drops May 18th on Eskimo Recordings. 2OJFG top 10 LP for sure, already added to the draft titled “Best of ‘O9”.

(above image taken from the cover of “On the Shores
of Distant Worlds”
by Andrew Tomas)

George Quartz is the auteur of La Maladie Tropicale, a blog of silvery grey matter etched onto a Grecian urn unearthed in the year 3000 from the rubble of a glass citadel under a starlit night sky.

George Quartz – Butterscotch

“Butterscotch” is all oozing liquid gold poured across the most beautiful of alien women, its the tri-synthesis of Tuxedomoon’s dapper vagabond malevolence, the oily black sexed soul music of Michael McDonald & James Ingram and Berlin’s plane-crash femme-fatale after her cybernetic implants, all three elements forming into a neon outlined saxophonist who walks into the wind, down a dark NY alleyway in 1981 with Basquiat lurking in the shadows drawing him with grey paint and blood.