If retro-futurism be your thing, look no further than this Henri Claudel person otherwise known as Mother Ganga (an artist I was first introduced to from one of Huckleberry Friend’s recent mixtapes on… wait wait, I’m losing you). I guess the who or why doesn’t matter as much as the WHAT. And THAT just so happens to be this amazing 7-song (not nearly enough songs, by the way) collection of silicon-skyway Depeche Mode-dance proto/whatever-wave pocket calculator pop music that is blissfully beautiful and incredibly strong. It’s the kind of cheeseball style you might expect to hear in an old, lame, teeny-bopper type of movie involving nerds, but instead of being cheeseball or lame or old, Technopoly is quite fresh and new and just really, really good (and still just a little bit teeny-bopper and also slightly nerdy). It’s real and it’s honest and sincere, too, and that’s why I am of the mind that Henri Claudel, although certainly a pseudonym, isn’t so much a joke character as it is a sturdy vehicle for whoever this person actually is to produce some really terrific songs. They start with great melodies and lyrics that skirt dance club politics/love stories via thought-provoking philosophies (“Peer into my disco ball” is an easy favorite), and each unfurls with firing squads of synthetic syncopation, fluttering arpeggio flourishes, and a locomotive pace that just will not quit. The voice, deep, reverberant and sexy, is the icing on top of this delicious cassette cake. Fucking Singapore Sling, guys. Every damn time. Starting to get a little tired of telling you, but I just gotta.
More about: Henri Claudel
