The 80′s decade was a weird time musically, folks. We’re all already aware of that. This isn’t to say that great and seminal bands didn’t span through that awkward time, or even define it musically. If I was in my twenties during this time, I’d no doubt have some analytical approach to dissect the awkwardness that peppered the airwaves from 80-89, but I was barely able to read in the early part of the decade and completely far removed from anything non-MTV in the middle part. My parents did a pretty good job of screening the MTV from me until I was around ten, so my first real taste of 80′s grandeur probably wasn’t until 1987 at best. The radio was big for me before then, but I was so inundated with mainstream music that I’m not even sure I know how to define the time musically. I don’t have enough knowledge. One thing I do know is that I don’t think of particular musicians when I drawback the memory files and think of that time. I think of movie soundtracks, awkward commercials, Casio keyboards, goofy outfits, and sound bytes. I think of Nintendo and the uber-catchy music scores that repeated endlessly as I tried to beat those games to a pulp. There’s a definitive sound that rings in my ears when I think of The Breakfast Club and Contra. That, to me, is the 80′s. I’m not sure if this makes sense to anyone out there, but it’s the way I define sound from a really strange time period. This is important, though, because as indie bands hearken back to this era it has to be done accurately for me to like it. I have spit out so many pop albums this year because they don’t get it right. In January, I fell into Eliot Lipp’s Peace, Love, Weed 3D because it was sarcastically mocking itself and had enough 80′s adult-film fodder to fill fifty sock drawers. For all the richness of that electronic piece, the vocals were missing. I couldn’t get around that, and I’ve been spinning Deastro’s Moondagger because it makes me forget about the last two decades and plops me right into my generalized notion of 80′s sound. Sure, it’s a great piece of musicianship, but it’s the vibe that I like the most. It’s a big album with huge hooks and electro pop hasn’t sounded better this year. It hits the shelves next Tuesday and I think you’re going to enjoy it, particularly if you have some backwards understanding of the 80′s like I do.
Randolph Chabot’s alter-ego, Deastro, has been around for awhile even though the DIY basement recordings didn’t jump into the limelight until last year’s gem, Keepers. James listed that album on our best of 2008 list and described it as music he’d like to fight to. While Keepers dove into big spacey jams and big, positively charged energy, Moondagger is the first stab Chabot has taken with a full band along with him. The Detroit hipster doesn’t do himself wrong and manages to capture what was good from Keepers and blast it into another galaxy with the new instruments to play with.
Much of Moondagger plays out like a big movie score. There’s a high octane energy level that pumps through the entire album and all of my movie nostalgia is heavily unearthed from the get go. “Biophelia” is the super-busy but well controlled opener that mixes video game blips and big drums sound into huge flourishes and large sound. The tone doesn’t necessarily vary much throughout, as energy is what drives the whole effort. It’s difficult to pinpoint whether it’s the echoed-out vocals or the electronically arranged bells and whistles that throw me back to better days. “Toxic Crusaders” is a prime example, fusing more distant vocal delivery with a chorus that blooms with headphone filling sound. Fuzzy synthesizers, maturely arranged guitar riffs, and a cacophony of layers all surround a basic pop tune reminiscent of The Cure, Crowded House, and maybe even nods to The Clash all in one bite. As I mentioned previously, I think of the decade in sound bytes, and Deastro is firing at all cylinders to create plenty of them.
A unique element to the album is the multiple ways it can be approached. On one hand, it’s a record to pop in and shake your ass to. Whether it’s the straight instrumental, “Pyramid Builders,” or the lovable “Parallelogram” it’s an easy album to like. There is enough pop-candy goodness for those that need a break from dreary singer/songwriter crooning or Dirty Projectors oddball experimentation. Many tracks are like elevator music run through a mainstream meat grinder or a Brat Pack flick running squarely into a glam band in an alley. On this level, the album is absolutely impossible to dislike. All fourteen tracks bring catchy hooks to the table. Spin it all the way through and you’ll be thrown backward 25 years in a such a good way. On the other hand, the record is loaded with talented musicianship, and as a reviewer, I find it dangerous to shake Moondagger off as merely a throwback album to dance to; it most certainly isn’t. Chabot is a wizard with arranging tracks, and when armed with the new band members, it’s all systems go and loaded with talent. The percussion is tightly arranged throughout the album and allows quirky tracks like “Greens, Grays, and Nordics” to fuzz and blip out but maintain unity. In the longest track title of the year, “Daniel Johnston Was Stabbed in the Heart by the Moondagger by the King of Darkness and His Ghost is Writing this Song as a Warning to All of Us” is a lyrically driven song, obviously referring to the demons that plagued Daniel Johnston. High pitched vocal delivery emulates the legend, and well controlled musicianship allows Chabot the freedom to experiment with his words a bit more. “We’re gonna build this town, we’re gonna build it right. We’re gonna save this boy. We’re gonna make some write . . . I’m small but I’m important still. Baby, I’m your mustard.” For the first listen, you’ll be trying to wrap your brain around all of the instrumentation at play, but there really is a lot to gnaw on lyrically upon subsequent listens. Chabot shifts from happiness to tension and yearning as quickly as the electronic beats shift from sound to sound.
This is an album you’re going to like. The reasons for liking it will vary depending on how you like your toast. For those that like it simple, white, buttered, no hassle, there are 14 tracks of great hooks and uplifting energy. For the rye-eaters, there’s more weight to this album with each spin I give it. It’s impossible to hear all of the sound and appreciate all that’s swirling around without a critical angle. Next Tuesday, be sure to snag this record, or pre-order it at insound through our link. It’s a funny thing. I know you’re going to like it, but I’m not exactly sure why that will be. For me, it’s the nostalgia, the big movie-track sound that I grew up on that makes this work. I’d be interested to hear your thoughts in some comments if you’ve got your own unique spin on it.
Pre-Order Moondagger at Insound Now!
