 Boards of Canada At last, Boards of Canada have released more music, so I can stop abusing Novacaine for recreational purposes. Actually, I think it would take a very specific alchemical blend of Novacaine, nitrous oxide, LSD, and chocolate to approximate the deep 4am haze that sets in almost immediately upon putting their stuff on. This EP gives us 24 more minutes to feed the addiction that (for most of us, at least) began with Music Has the Right to Children. The style is not vastly different, but does seem to take subtle steps into new areas. The vocoder on the title track is the most obvious example, repeating the phrase "Come out and live in a religious community in a beautiful place out in the country" over and over – that's as close to lyrics as this band gets. That song is just amazing – like much of their stuff, a bit creepy, but totally blissout great, very nearly making you rise zombie-like from your chair and follow the sound to this beautiful religious community. If I'm being lured into a cult, so be it. When this music is playing, there's no need for anything else, like food, liquor, air, or sleep. Boards of Canada fulfills a glorious future promised by Bill Nelson on his Chance Encounters in the Garden of Light album, which more and more I come to see as a truly visionary piece of art. I wish they would rerelease their "back catalog" of homemade albums, intriguing holy grails with titles like Acid Memories and Play By Numbers. Lord knows I don't need further excuse to behave like an opium addict, though. Or maybe they should sell out, and make the coolest fucking pop songs of all time. They could get Claudine Longet to sing, the Harlem Boys Choir to giggle in the background, and Lynne Russell to count. Truly, no one would win with that scenario. No, some things you don't want to change too drastically. Boards of Canada will surely get huge on their own terms, though I hope it doesn't end up souring the experience as it did for so many Belle & Sebastian fans once that band got big. Whatever the case, you'll probably just find me here with dried drool on my shirt and a thin layer of mucous covering my eyes, my heartbeat slowed to four beats per minute and a satisfied smile on my face.
Review by Chumly |