Hot Chip - Made In The Dark
[EMI]

Hot Chip set tongues wagging two years ago when they defied Darwin by springing from could-do-better debut album Coming On Strong to the iconic and mainstream-baiting Warning. In one swift crack they managed not only to clear about eight evolutionary rungs on the stepladder to success, but also land on their feet with catlike poise to ripples of critical applause. As word of mouth spread like hot Nutella, it was universally agreed that this was definitely 'their moment', consequently securing them a seat in more Year Best lists than the numbers one to five. Now that the gong's been banged and the table's set for thirds, is their room in the stomachs of the masses for any more Hot Chip? Is the Pope a Catholic?

The fickle will be pleased to hear that Made In The Dark is not just more of the same, and messers Taylor, Goddard and co have done their darndest to march haphazardly onward without simply cookie-cutting their last LP. The flirtatious zeal they mined on The Warning has been substituted for fifty-four minutes of quarreling genres which, although initially somewhat incompatible, gel ever more cohesively with every airing. The charged and wired Shake A Fist is an unlikely electro/IDM cross-pollination, grimy as Autechre in overalls and featuring a storm of evil hoovers that suck dust from the cushions of Tony De Vit's coffin. Seems the geeks now carry a Stanley, and are soaking their conkers in vinegar. It'd be easy for Alexis Taylor's vocals to feel puny in amidst such a racket as the type produced here but he holds his own, his trademark falsetto refusing to be toppled by whatever the consoles can chuck at him. Touch Too Much is another testament to the foundations in his voicebox, where the four blokes behind him play a church organ expansion pack on a bank of sanguine Segas. Perhaps this is the sign of a secret future jump of MP3s from desktop to memory card.

The Chinese whispers that have been doing the rounds about a pop album smeared in slow moments come true in spades, with In The Privacy Of Our Love posing as the perfect vehicle for Taylor's recent nuptials to shine through like Duraglit. Built around a simple two-chord refrain that never once threatens to spoil, it sees some slow-dancing finger clicks and guitar star-stickers come together to scaffold a two-minute lovenest. The similarly tempered title track serves as its more parental, soul-searching counterpart, where the band paint a loungey picture of a stricken Saturday night singleton as he comes to terms with a botched relationship. 'Since I stole this song we have made a new start/My premonition hits hard as our start is apart', croons Taylor over plods of piano and wafer-thin drums, the sound of a band as confident expressing themselves behind the mic as they are behind the joypad.

With that in mind, Hot Chip will to many be a 'fun' band first and foremost, so it's a relief then that beatwise, the record struts as smoothly as John Travolta doing drill. Hold On is a scuzzy slice of disco; the kind of thing that made people think LCD Soundsystem really were from England, while Out At The Pictures finds a rhythm slowly sprouting from a fug of bagpipey stylophones, morphing overnight into some crisp and funky rhombuses. If the ad-man's still short of adjectives for his pitch, he might want to consider the use of the word 'globular', as Hot Chip seem to share their philosophy with snooker trooper John Virgo: pot as many balls as you can. Don't Dance is a sneaky stunt-shot of digital mischief that quickly beefs up into an impromptu stab at Orbital's You Lot, and the hilarious Wrestlers takes a latent love triangle and likens it to a WWF cagefight. It might first feel like bigbeat recorded on Tomy technology, but like a lot of the quirks on the album it's a grower, leaving enough floorspace for a dusky R&B combo to close the curtains.

Ultimately, juggling soul and electronica is what the band can do best, and it shows how seriously they take themselves when it comes to their calculated clowning around. They might look like the type of people who forego sleep and poontang for all-night Warhammer, but when it comes to the tunes, Hot Chip clean up like Mr Sheen on a sulphate kick. They even have a knack for some macabre intuition, with their Ready For The Floor video referencing the two Jacks from Batman (Nicholson and Palance respectively) just as the latest embodiment of the Joker laughed his last. Maybe their crystal ball only works best in a very low lux, then. Still, if their potent live performances continue to stoke their imagination as readily as they have in the past, and Made In The Dark is what they can do after a heavy night of noodling, it'll be interesting to see what happens once they collectively see the light.

Made In The Dark Track Listing:

01. Out At The Pictures
02. Shake A Fist
03. Ready For The Floor
04. Bendable Poseable
05. We're Looking For A Lot Of Love
06. Touch Too Much
07. Made In The Dark
08. One Pure Thought
09. Hold On
10. Wrestlers
11. Don't Dance
12. Whistle For Will
13. In The Privacy Of Our Love