No one would expect LCD Soundsystem, a band birthed from the thick beats and dance floor-skewering humor of “Losing My Edge,” to be one for maudlin goodbyes. Indeed, on “This Is Happening,” the band makes a quintessential hipster farewell: A few dance moves, a clever barb or two, then slipping out the back door.
LCD Soundsystem
DFA Records
$13.98
The band has said this is probably its last album, but there’s nothing in the music to denote that. Crunchy synth lines bob and flex over paint-by-number dance floor beats, as LCD Soundsystem lyrically issues challenges to its industry, its fans and itself
The leadoff track, “Dance Yrself Clean,” opens with a pattering, mumbly intro, before sharp synth sounds pierce the silence and singer James Murphy howls, “Don’t you want me to wake up?” It’s a tone familiar to LCD Soundsystem fans: As on previous albums, the 40-year-old Murphy spends a lot of time worrying if he’s become that guy who’s just too old to still be in the club.
The album’s liveliest moments come on “Pow Pow,” which features repetitive spoken lyrics, reminiscent of David Byrne on the Talking Heads classic “Once In A Lifetime,” over a Hot Chip-style rhythm. LCD Soundsystem sounds like it’s having fun on the track, and in dance-rock, that little extra spark of joy can be the difference between a pretty good song and one that lights up the dance floor.
Lyrically, the band sends some mixed messages. “You Wanted a Hit” lashes out against the record industry and mainstream fans, asking them, “You wanted it real, but can you tell me what’s real?” The song crackles, its extended nine-minute length continuing the taunt. Yet it shares album space with “Drunk Girls,” the lead single, a short, bouncy indie-punk anthem about sexual politics that seems written for the express purpose of being a lead single. It’s a cute song, but it rings hollow given LCD Soundsystem’s dogmatic adherence to irony.
With “Home,” the band closes the album like a U Street drunkard who knows it’s about to be last call, but doesn’t want to prolong his night with a trip to Jumbo Slice. Murphy softly sings lines that are equal parts inviting, apologetic and nonsensical, lets loose a few last chanting “ah-ahs,” and lets the song fade into a bubbly mess of electronic horns and hi-hats. It’s not a kiss goodbye, but more of a knowing smile as Murphy and Co. stumble into the sunset.
