If every band had the same sparkling effervescence and energy as Stereolab, the world would be a much better place. It may not lead to the public execution of Tony Blair and his muppet government, but it would at least make it more hospitable. For a day at least, we could all swarm about in the same wildly merry cosmic glow as the late Mary Hansen and her chums, spaced-out on the very glad tidings of life and the universe. What could have been a sad posthumous salute to the death of a pivotal band member has instead been styled in a deliberately bright and cosmic fashion. And what better tribute than this? 12 tracks of ridiculously charming pop-exotica, all brimming with ultra-hi energy and all as tantalising and addictive as space-dust.
From the first cheery explosions and arpeggios of opener, ‘Vonal Declosion’ to the giggling salsa harmonies and rhythms of the ‘Dear Marge’ intro, the album is nothing short of liberating. In fact, it seems impossible that a band could sound this fresh after so many years together, but fresh it is and with it, an engaging sense of freedom.
The lush Gallic vocals, the bubbling electronica, the sumptuous strings, the funky bass and the celestial spread of heavenly guitars finds exactly the right balance of 60s retro derived nuttiness and striding futurism. The case in point? ‘Cosmic Country Noir’, ‘Sudden Stars’. In fact almost every song on the album swells and grows like some gently exploding supernova. However only on sub-title tracks like ‘Margerine Rock’ and ‘Margerine Melodie’ (and ‘Hillbilly Motorbike’) do we approach the Krautrock simplicity of ‘Transient’.
To my mind, only the ‘Pizzicato Five’ and ‘Cornelius’ can compare in the intricate layering of shiny bright pop loveliness. We might not understand any of them – but boy, do they make good music…