Floating Points "Crush:" The Aesthetic of Intellect

Review and discussion on Crush by Floating Points (2019)

Relevant links:

Review of Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith’s The Kid, with an eye towardsthe Buchla Synthesizer

Zorch and the Surreal Bagpiper

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the downtown nightlife in Tuscon, but it was much more vibrant than I expected. There were crowds of people moving around each other, drawn endlessly in and out of bars and clubs while bands blared cover tunes off the rooftops. I was interested in nothing more than a glass of iced tea, so I quickly grew tired of weaving in and out of the mob. I finally meandered into an upscale coffeehouse called Sparkroot, ordered some mint tea sweetened with agave, and settled down with my laptop to blog.

From this vantage point, the diversity of the quirky throng became apparent. Gender-bending cross-dressers and stroller-pushing moms sidled up by each other at vendor stands sharing their anticipation of an upcoming comic-con while mustached hipsters and their girlfriends sipped clear and (I assume) potent drinks from tiny glasses. It all seemed quite normal. No one even seemed particularly surprised when bagpipe and drum ensemble marched up to the street corner and began blaring out Amazing Grace.

It’s not that people weren’t appreciative – they whooped and hollered and took pictures like they would at any good street performance. They just didn’t seem that surprised. I, on the other hand, was stunned and somewhat upset that my phone was back at the hotel recharging. It was too surreal to believe – and it just got weirder when one of the bagpipers noticed the sticker on my laptop.

The sticker has a few bars of piano music and says, in big black letters, “IF YOU CAN READ THIS, THANK A MUSIC TEACHER.” When I am out in public, it is not uncommon for me to catch people reading it and share a knowing insider’s glance. This piper caught sight of it, however, and disarmingly strode up to me. Flustered, I awkwardly complimented his group’s performance, but his blank, serious expression did not waver. I was determined not to be intimidated by a man in a kilt, but then I noticed his pupils subtly swirling and changing shape…

I was horrified and slightly dizzy. Without breaking his gaze, he reached behind his beard into his jacket, seemingly farther than normal physics would allow, and pulled out a CD. He placed it carefully on the keyboard of my laptop, turned on his heels, and strode off to catch up with his ensemble.  I looked down at the CD and my blood ran cold. It was ZZorchh, the debut release from local Austin band Zorch.

I have followed this psychedelic noise pop band since I stumbled upon their ear-splitting performance at the Deerhoof after-show. They made such an impression on me back then on that frigid night that I downloaded their demo EP and rather enjoyed it, but like most short-form collections, I had a hard time getting it to compare favorably to other things I was listening to in the long term. I had been considering buying this full-length since I heard of its release for quite awhile – and there it was.

In my recent review of the F*ck Buttons, I bemoaned what I saw as the general lack of technical ability in music that features sonic innovation. Back in the day, artists like Rick Wakeman married technique with technology using Moog synthesizers and the like. Zorch addresses this issue. They manipulate technology in a way that opens up an incredibly broad musical palette, especially for a duo, but their music feels risky in a way that places the controls in human hands.



The resulting chaos is breathtaking. I find it hard not to make comparisons to Frank Zappa, especially due to the frenetic drumming. Certainly, Zorch accesses a tounge in cheek surrealism that was characteristic of a late-70s Zappa band, minus the overt social satire.  The band's use of keyboards and computer assistance is decidedly contemporary, however, rather like Animal Collective collaborating with Terry Bozzio.  A frightening, overstimulating combination, to be sure, but compelling nonetheless.

As far as the means by which I acquired the album, I calmly finished my tea and  made my way back to the hotel as if nothing happened.  There is definitely a point at which reality and surreality mixed that evening, but even now, looking back on it, the details are unclear.  You can figure it out for yourself if you really feel the need.

Daft Punk's "Random Access Memories" Breaks the Spell

Although in many ways, I am still on the fence about the new Daft Punk album, I have to admit I that I am enjoying the controversy that it seems to have stirred up. On the one side, the critics would have people believe that it is the most important album of 2013, but here on the street level it seems that praise for Random Access Memories is very rarely given without some reservation. At worst, a lot of Daft Punk fans, both old and new, simply don’t care for it.

Listening to it, I think this is understandable. Since 1997, Daft Punk has become associated with well-crafted, adventurous house and dance music, a style of “robot rock” reinforced by their mechanized stage presence. Despite releasing relatively little material in the past decade, Daft Punk have garnered a devoted following that hotly anticipated the release of Random Access Memories. As an intentional tribute to late 70s disco and early 80 synth-pop, however, the album is a challenge to Daft Punk’s well-established identity.

Well, we were warned. All of the early press indicated that any fan expecting well-defined electronica would most likely be disappointed, and its true.  The cybernetic pulse of One More Time and Digital Love is largely absent.  In fact, despite the persistence of vocoders and autotune to “robotize” vocals, there is significantly less mechanization present on Random Access Memories than expected. Overall, the album would sound much more at home in a roller rink circa 1978 than thumping at a late 90s rave.



But Daft Punk, in my opinion, have always been innovators. They pushed the boundaries of house music so far that they came to define it. With artists like deadmau5 and Ratatat now occupying the space that has opened up in that arena since their last proper house style release it is logical for Daft Punk to take steps to vacate.  For them to take such a dramatic turn towards nostalgia, however, begs the question: where does the innovation truly lie on Random Access Memories? How does retreading these waters deepen them?

While I do think that the album is enjoyable (not to mention pristinely produced), the tracks that overtly point to that era are not necessarily any better than the music actually of that era. I get the sense that if I really wanted to indulge in that kind of nostalgia, I would do just as well to listen to the artists that originally innovated the style. Daft Punk’s reinterpretations are not offensive, by any means, but not earth-shatteringly great.

What I do like about the album, however, is the proliferation of live instruments, and I think that this is the area in which Random Access Memories pushes Daft Punk into a new field. There are several tracks that feature their classic techno sounds, but also showcase live instruments attacking these textures with an improvisational fervor.



Here, the instinct of human hands plays off the drive of technological automation.  By its end, this tribute to the synth innovator responsible for Donna Summer's I Feel Love becomes an epic drum solo propelled the song's bass sequence.  I think its electrifying and epic - worth the price of admission!  This is the area that I would have liked to see Daft Punk step into with the Tron: Legacy soundtrack in their rearview mirror.

Additionally, with technology becoming more user-friendly and seemingly human in our everyday lives, the metaphor that Daft Punk was previously trying to sustain about themselves as "robots-making-music" could still be intact and, perhaps, even more profound as a "2.0 upgrade." Random Access Memories, however, just makes them seem like really, really talented producers dressed as robots. Spell broken.

PoP Campaign, Kraftwerk, and the Innovation of Automation

In the 80s, I was an ambitious garage rocker with an insular progressive rock fascination. Instrumental technique was my primary concern, so at the time I did not really understand the important contributions to sound, technology, and songwriting that bands like Depeche Mode and New Order were making.  Thankfully, my worldview has widened considerably since those days, because it would be a shame to overlook all the amazing work of M83, Ratatat, and other great 21st century electronic/synth-pop projects.  So, when I was presented with the opportunity to review PoP Campaign’s full-length debut Kraut Popping, I felt conceptually well-equipped .  The album turned out to be a different thing entirely, however, and it has pushed my interests into unexplored territory.

PoP Campaign Theme Tune by PoP Campaign

Initially, PoP Campaign's playful brand of head-bobbing instrumentalism reminded me of Kraftwerk, which is pretty weird since, due to my youthful ignorance, I did not really know anything about these German electronic music pioneers.  On reflection, I realized that Kraftwerk's relationship to PoP Campaign was based on impressions I developed from cursory exposure to the band in documentaries and literature. Hoping to gain some realistic perspective on Kraut Popping, I decided to crack open Kraftwerk’s catalog.  By nearly unanimous decision of my readership, Autobahn was suggested as a good place to start.

Predictably, it also was not what I expected. Autobahn was far more ominous and programmatic than I anticipated, with ostinatos veering into soundtrack-like terrain.  While I would stop short of describing it as “ambient,” it is, perhaps, “environmental.” It is certainly not dance music. It is, however, unbelievably musical and decisively cerebral, and because of this, Autobahn clearly transcends the timeframe in which it was created. With no other reference for their catalog, I can agree that it is, indeed, a compelling place to start, but it is probably not the place to end.  More on them later.


For now, Autobahn serves as a reminder that a lot has happened in electronic music. From this distance, it may seem like a stretch to draw a straight line between Kraftwerk and PoP Campaign based solely on one album released in 1973.  The most fundamental reason for the gap between the two is because in Autobahn's day, electronic music was still dependant on the physicality of playing instruments. By the 80s, many synth pop innovators, including Kraftwerk, increasingly relied on rigid sequencing and automation, a practice that was the basis of my past prejudice.



Current technology allows PoP Campaign to transcend the physical limitations of early electronica without changing its essential soundscape or sacrificing spontaneity.  The rippling arpeggios on this track Herzlich Wilkommen, which are found all over Kraut Popping, would take considerable virtuosity and precision to play manually. With the flexible automation provided by current soft sequencers like Ableton, however, PoP Campaign can manipulate and elaborate on complex musical events using the sounds of first-generation synthesists as a matter of conscious, intentional choice.



Although PoP Campaign never loses sight of their music’s potential accessibility,  they have more in common with Kraftwerk than it would superficially seem.  They reclaim the ideology of experimentalism that lies at the foundation of so-called Krautrock while simultaneously acknowledging the historical role of electronic music as a dance style. As a result, Kraut Popping is equally at home in a club or in a more intellectual setting.  The most shrewd implication of PoP Campaign's instrumental commentary, however, is to challenge the notion that these two sites of music experience stand in opposition to each other, and to suggest instead that dance music can also be intellectual.

A Quick Word About Zorch

We were headed to the car after the Deerhoof show (I promise I’ll let it go after this) when we heard some electronic ruckus coming from the Mohawk’s inside room.  It sounded like some kind of post-90s rave freakout, but with the undeniable sound of live, and very active, drumming. It literally stopped us in our tracks.  Our interest must have been obvious, because a person walking by nonchalantly muttered to us “they’re pretty badass, actually.”  We decided to go back in and check it out.

The band playing inside, which I recently tracked down, was a local Austin band called Zorch.  Like Ben Butler and Mousepad, Zorch is a high-tech drum and keyboard duo, but their approach was much less funky and much more intense.  They were dishing out some really amazing musicianship, actually, but inside that little room at the Mohawk the performance was nothing short of ear-bleedingly, painfully loud.  I actually think that I felt parts of my hearing being erased by standing in the room.   Check out this video – except imagine it at, like, jet engine decibel level.

Obviously, as a duo with a pretty full sound, there is some automation happening in Zorch’s music, but if you watch the video carefully it allows you to see how the tech never runs amok as an end in itself – just like it oughta be.  The keyboardist sets up the arpeggiation to keep the intensity up while focusing on other aspects of the song (bassline, etc).  For the drummer, of course, it’s no secret.  His feverishly Bozzio-esuque hyperactivity rises to the challenge of keeping up with the machinery.

So, even though I did not stay long at their show (out of self-defense for my hearing), Zorch made enough of an impression on me to look up almost a month later.  I downloaded their EP earlier this week, and it captures them.  If you are turned off by the poppier aspects of my blog entries and want something a little more experimental, you’ll like them – it’s got my interest this week.  Plus it’s free. Furthermore, after acquainting myself with the recording, I think that I might be open to checking them out live again, only armed with earplugs this time.