When I last saw Air live, it was in 2004 at the Coachella Festival (okay, so I've only seen Air live once, so when I say "last saw," it really just means "that time I saw Air"). After driving for many hours (make that days) and being in the 110-degree sun all day, I wasn't particularly prepared for their gentle, ironic French electro-pop. Yet this was the perfect state in which to experience the duo's sound, as it moved me from a distant apathy about records like Moon Safari to pure, unadulterated love for their later work, such as Talkie Walkie and The Virgin Suicides. Now, you may be asking what sweltering desert heat has to do with Pocket Symphony. It's not so much the heat as the swooning aftereffects of having a slight case of heatstroke and some mild delusion that seem to complement Air's sound -- and that's not a bad thing.
There is something brilliantly detached about Air's music, especially their more spacious, instrumental-oriented work. Much like Eno said in discussing The Joshua Tree for a U2 documentary, the state of being "cool" is a certain "detachment from oneself," which is where the desert heat comes in. From the opening rhythmic taps on "Space Maker," Air sucks you in with their usual moody, swirling melodies. Nigel Godrich takes the boards yet again for Pocket Symphony (now his fourth collaboration with the Parisian group) and takes the sound of the record to areas similar to those visited on 2004's Talkie Walkie.
Upon first listen, Pocket Symphony seems as though it is going to be Talkie Walkie Two, only to detach from its kinship to its predecessor with an appearance from former Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker and the first strums of this record's new instrument, the koto, on the vague "Hell Of A Party." The album slips into its sleepy, hazy state with cuts like "Mayfair Song" and "Photograph," the latter of which is probably the album's least interesting, thanks to its relatively dry melodic hooks.
There are echoes of Air's former material throughout the record; "Mer du Japon" is a moderate-tempo toe-tapper that invokes memories of "Kelly Watch The Stars" from Moon Safari, sans the cheesy robo-voices. It is quite likely that songs like "Lost Message" and "Night Sight" will lead many writers to compare the disc to Brian Eno's Another Green World, and it wouldn't be a stretch. If you're looking for a more contemporary reference point, the piano line on "Napalm Love" shadows melodies that might be found on Radiohead's Hail To The Thief.
As with any minor bout of heatstroke, Pocket Symphony needs plenty of time to rest with the listener. It is a soft-spoken, delicately delivered batch of well-tanned ambient pop sounds, arranged with poise and balance. It isn't life-changing, genre-defining, seizure-inducing, or any other clever hyphenated compounds, but it is a thoroughly enjoyable, rewarding listen, worthy of the many spins I have already given it. Sit down in the shade, sip a glass of room temperature water, put on Pocket Symphony, and enjoy.
More about: Air
