At the end of ‘All that Jazz’, Bob Fosse, the king of lizard dancers which was obvious inspiration to our favourite late moonwalking alien bids life goodbye in the most grand of manners, surrounded by rotating Metropolis mannequins, a band of feline KISS-lookalikes, dancers clad in catsuits tattooed with a constellation of blood vessels, and an assorted variety of wondrous glam freaks. As his heartbeat accelerates towards its vanishing point, we witness that classic moment of levitation towards the pearly gates where that essence of Aphrodite he had always chased awaits for him with a suggestive pose. Never fails to give me goosebumps.
Well, you could imagine the soft jazz coda that soundtracks this transition into a higher state of nothingness, or perhaps something-ness, fading into the tunnel of sonic white which is Miracles Club’s ‘Light of Love’, a perfect introduction to whatever lies beyond, if whatever lies beyond is everything we had hoped for. We knew we were onto something special when we stumbled upon them just as last year experienced its very own demise, and this but confirms all our expectations- if Silent Shout was dusk, then Light of Love is dawn, a piano driven mini-epic which comes across like Hercules and Love Affair if they were into the United States of America, wave after wave of pure joy washing over us with that wondrous combination of feeric energy and material dance throb you can find at the core of everything we stand for.
Miracles Club have their debut 12 coming out really soon, we shall let you know when it’s out.
I was commenting with the tallest member of the coterie of conspirators on which this whole space is based how we tend to have a majority of instrumental musics populating our dusty shelves and grotesque furniture. Why this so? I’ve given it some thought, and come up with a negative reason, and a positive one.
On the negative side, I guess many of the vocal production styles that dominate these days, at least in the non-fuzz & drang extreme of the spectrum are not so hot to our ears, or sound contrived, or excessively influenced by a small number of references, Animal Collective it’s all your fault. And then there is the blight of autotune.
But let’s focus more on the positive side, like the life-affirmed forever beaming through buck teeth scarecrows that we are. On the positive side, look, Kosmische and dance music are two of the reference points that inform our trajectory, and vocals never played a big role on those, at least in the traditional pop way. Instead, you get some Japanese dude ululating or speaking in tongues, or a synthesis of the glorious hedonistic celebration of the sweaty moment that dance music is- voice as the instrument and agent of the final push off the cliff of reality and into Elysium. And then there is of course, the soundtrack side of things- for better or worse, we like to paint images on the awesome canvas that music is, drawing on a bunch of disparate influences – books that would have never written if the supply of Amphetamines in the Californian underground hadn’t been of pharmaceutical grade, films that would have never been made if people weren’t so fucked up, a cybernetic utopia etc. Easier to do when the story is there for the telling.
So here you have another instrumental one, this time by enigmatic kids on the block B&Gs (as in Bare Girls), see what I say?
Or a perfect example of emotional abstraction which makes us think of a million chrysalis fluttering their eyelids inside the palpitating cocoons which lay scattered across the smooth valleys and hills of an anonymous planet, under the gaze of an alien sun and its scorched satellites. It’s got a nice early era slo-mo house melancholy vibe to it, like a love letter from a mainframe with circuits tracing the silhouette of a very distinctive and beautiful 80s face. Something wistful that can’t be reciprocated, like Demon Seed if it had been directed by John Hughes maybe? We’ve done it again.