Disco duo unleash synth 'attack'

Everyone should put away their LCD Soundsystem record.

Simian Mobile Disco’s “Attack Decay Sustain Release” challenges for the best Electronica album of the year.

People might not recognize Simian Mobile Disco, the duo made up of Manchester’s James Ford and Jas Shaw. Their work might be recognized, however, as they were formerly the rhythm section of 90s electro-rock band Simian, which split in 2002.

Apparently Ford and Shaw weren’t satisfied being the synth rhythm section to a rock band, and that was enough contention for them to leave the band in the middle of a U.S. tour.

The two have stayed busy since, mostly appearing at high profile DJ club gigs around the world, which inspired them to create Simian Mobile Disco and latch on to an independent label.

Ford has produced LP’s for the Artic Monkeys – “Favourite Worst Nightmare,” which sold well overseas but hasn’t taken off in the states – and The Klaxons’ “Myths of the Near Feature.”

Their sound has been dubbed “Nu-rave” by some critics, which is a somewhat fair assessment, while perhaps overlooking the wide range of influences.

“I Believe,” featuring ex-Simian vocalist Simon Lord, certainly reeks of 80s pop.

But SMD also has “Love,” with a funky thick 70s baseline backgrounds high-pitched vocals: “Skin tight/Skin tight hot as Hell/You cast a deadly spell/S-P-E-L’s disaster.”

“Hustler” is a phenomenal dance track, featuring rap lyrics from Char Johnson: “Go to the record store and put it in my clothes and walk past that record man/Gotta have the sticky hands when your ass is broke like me/Go to that record store, steal some records man.”

And of course, “Sleep Deprivation” is perfect rave background music.

“Tits and Acid” is aptly titled, with raunchy metallic, a gushing snare and a siren in the background.

The album culminates with “Scott,” which seems to lack any real linear direction or beat, but the ambient sound evokes visceral response. White knuckles, broken vessels in the eyes, crust forming around the mouth, rush of blood to the head.

That’s the beauty of electronica, in a nutshell. It must not need a clear direction, conveying distinct thoughts or emotions without the need of much of an intermediary.

Graham Beckwith can be reached at [email protected].