I may be a bit obsessive-compulsive, but I have to believe people digest albums like I do. I tend to become a fanboy immediately with albums that jolt me from the starting gun, relentlessly focusing on three tracks that grab my attention first. Next, I eventually grow tired of the three standout tracks and move onto another section of three songs that I originally thought mundane and less noteworthy. Usually this results in a battle of sorts. I love those original tracks that drew me to the band’s sound, but inevitably wind up pushing them backwards in the playing rotation. Inexplicably, however, there always seems to be three tracks on every album that fail to make it into my pleasure-filled musical database. Try hard I may, but it’s an extremely rare occasion that an entire record is not just enjoyable to me from top to bottom, but noteworthy. Neon Indian’s Psychic Chasms is a debut that took a little time to wrap my brain around fully, but the fruits of ear-labor have never failed me yet. It’s an album rich with energy and a hard to pinpoint coolness that’s achieved through a varietal and shifting blitz of sound. Not a track is worthless, and in fact, if you listen to records like I do, the progression will leave no slag and the enjoyment tightens with each subsequent listen.
In my review of Deastro’s Moondagger earlier this year, much of the review focused on the reminiscent aura that certain electronically based outfits have been dishing out recently. For a self-professed alt-folk fanatic, it’s a pretty awkward admission that Alan Palomo (Neon Indian) creates the kind of music that knocks me straight out my LA Gear’s and into a completely fulfilling nostalgic mode. The central conundrum regarding electro-throwback music is that I have literally no way to merely describe a deeply rooted vibe. Typically, reviewing albums involves at least some shred of musical understanding. Although Psychic Chasms takes me far, far away from my comfort zone, I can’t stop playing it. The initial run through begins slamming “(AM)” at the listener, starting with a cylindrical synthesizer screechy sound that melts into the background as a nasty badass 80′s bouncy rhythm kicks in. Softly delivered vocals juxtapose the hard hitting grooves and busybody Danelectro attack. It’s this album opener that reeks of quirky mid 1980′s summers at the roller rink, super-rope licorices and, believe it or not, mid-period Prince material. Slick guitars and pinched out and looping sounds are splattered through each track. The retro hooks are encapsulated by spookily morphed and slowed down synth riffs that warble alongside nearly every song.
Perhaps it’s a trite over-generalization to assume Neon Indian is swinging for nostalgic fences here, as Palomo is extremely adept at spiraling sound mixtures. At times, the stacks of dominant sounds all layered on top of one another are quite brilliant. The midway arc of three songs, “Mind, Drips,” “Psychic Chasms,” and “Local Joke” point to wider and expansive takes on pop predecessors. At the heart of all three is a simplistic drum machine, aptly keeping time while each track spins and rises in sound-intensity. It’s easy enough to peg this as an album with repeat value for ambiance alone, but deeper listens unveil ripping keyboard arrangements, frenetic blips and flurries of wavering riffs. “Ephemeral Artery” links up a straining synthesizer behind everything, and like a car in an automated washer, it’s difficult to tell whether the songs moving forward or I’m moving in reverse. Super intriguing.
For me, however, what nails this album down is it’s drenching mid 80′s aura. “(If I Knew, I’d Tell You)” is forty-eight seconds of fuzzy and shaky brilliance that hearkens back to the most memorable early 80′s porn. If that’s a weak observation, our readership will have to accept my apologies, because my mind wanders constantly to those awkward instances of my youth, poorly dubbed Ginger Lynn fully included. To summate the value of this album, it’s important to first enter with a specific direction in mind. Like a choose-your-own-adventure book, this record consistently pulses from start to finish, and depending on listener preference, it can dive into nostalgia or enrich in a modern sense equally as well. The album hits the shelves on October 13th, but we’ve got a few tracks here to tide you over in the meantime. If you’re digging these, you’re going to be fully impressed next month.
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[...] criticism aside, neon indian is trying something new here, all-the-while gunning for something a bit nostalgic; something mid-80s. synth pop is a relatively new and blooming genre, undoubtedly allowing for a creative freedom wider than that of the more satiated genres. neon indian has gone for hazy synths and dusty sounds; they’ve contrasted screeching keyboards with chill vibes; they’ve settled for simple choruses and a certain predictability. and some people quite like that… For me, however, what nails this album down is it’s drenching mid 80’s aura. “(If I Knew, I’d Tell You)” is forty-eight seconds of fuzzy and shaky brilliance that hearkens back to the most memorable early 80’s porn. If that’s a weak observation, our readership will have to accept my apologies, because my mind wanders constantly to those awkward instances of my youth, poorly dubbed Ginger Lynn fully included. To summate the value of this album, it’s important to first enter with a specific direction in mind. Like a choose-your-own-adventure book, this record consistently pulses from start to finish, and depending on listener preference, it can dive into nostalgia or enrich in a modern sense equally as well – citizen dick [...]