Gang Gang Dance – Visual Contact

Kinds of scientists estimate that the average man uses only 90% of the potential of their brain. Gang Gang Dance, through their previous albums, have systematically explored the mysterious missing 10%, resulting in a single character which is not fully propel New Yorkers from the underground. A Visual Contact, album five and their first for 4AD, is unlikely that change - there is nothing that could be considered a single crossover. But take off safety catch, sling as stabilizers cancelled and immerse yourself in the beautiful depths and you could find a record to fall in love with several times.

On the contrary, the last LP of GGD, Saint Dymphna Warp out (United Kingdom), was their thrust towards commercial recognition. It includes a collaboration with Tinchy Stryder, above the current graph of the various rapper Brit dominance; and Hot Chip weighed in with a remix which could open more doors a few for the holding of this side of the Atlantic. But despite good reviews, the album and its makers appear destined to sit in the shade of love it pierced the same original singular way as Animal Collective. Visual contact could therefore be understood as something of a retreat from the field of commercial sensitivity, as it does with a track 12 minutes that Miss next to cover notable radio due to its length of opening. A shame: glass jar is magnificent, a masterpiece of spiral, sprawling mischievous melodies that their way of worm in depth, built from brilliant foundations and peak, surprisingly, too soon. It could last for an hour and be always so special.

The song of Liz Bougatsos click with everyone - as Karin Dreijer Andersson of the knife, aka Fever Ray, she manages to sound like the woman who fell on the ground, totally foreign but entirely beguiling that it compresses syllables in limited spaces left by his group. Together, they weave a soundtrack to the future parties, held on space stations revolves around the outer rings of Saturn. Little here seems to be connected with terrestrial movements; and when there is a flash of something of comfortably that, as the course adult Goth oriental and pulsations in the field of fair MindKilla, they are surrounded by the sounds of Bougatsos presence. Only the layers of Romance seems really born of this world, its neo-soul-goes-sci-fi strut distant cousin, distorted seductive tones of D'Angelo; or Grace Jones, the years of Star Trek.

Three incidental numbers expand what could otherwise seem to skimp on content, paper-based embedded processing: but even reduced to his "own" seven songs, it is one of the albums the most fascinating, exciting, original of the year. GGD examined in that, for almost any other artist, is the complete unknown to produce another together offering rich rewards to those who let it work its magic without reaching for the skip or shuffle button. Their relationship with corners of the skull that us do not regularly reach continues to produce remarkable results. Beam in stars and shows that floods in the responses.