Thankfully, Electric Tickle Machine have posted an explanation for why in God’s name they would ever decide to call their band “Electric Tickle Machine.” It has something to do with the declining gap between the media and the people; the paradox of creating art in a world you hate because of its enslaved relationship to technology, consumerism, and the swallowing up of individuality. In reality, this has been a problem for a long, long time, and in double-reality we’ve always (for some reason) needed artists to remind us that we’re zombies. M.I.A.’s latest release is probably the most recent, highest-profile, up-to-date work of art to be overtly critical of this paradigm, and one in which she even tried to wrangle in this post-post-modernistic world we’re currently finding ourselves in. (However successful her attempt was, I suppose, is still up for debate.)
I have an admission. Lately I’ve actually found myself within the deepest depths of this medialogical whirlwind of technology. Some of it has to do with the fact that I bought a smart phone and my face is constantly glued to it. And part of it has to do with the fact that I work at a job that requires very little responsibility (something I’m good at reverse-faking) and allows me plenty of time to blog-hop. What I’ve found is that all of these blogs, facebook profiles, tumblr pages, etc. are so integrally connected to each other and growing on top of themselves that artists are aesthetically aligning with spaced out textures, electronic beats, ghostly vocalism, etc., the “reactionary” sounds of which are systematically stifled with each successive mp3 or video post. A very “post-post-modern” type of music is emerging and putting a strangle-hold on a large number of music lovers. And it’s not that it’s actually bad, it’s just that it feels really trendy. And when something as far-reaching as the internet itself gets its hands on a trend... things are bound to get old.
So here sits (not very still, mind you) Electric Tickle Machine in the middle of it all, completely self-aware of its position in this monstrosity. A band from Brooklyn with the second most NSFW album art of the last 12 months (almost a middle-finger to the media in and of itself), galloping energy, youth, exuberance (read: not a new mother writing music in her L.A. mansion), and some real bite. As such, Electric Tickle Machine’s strategy in dealing with this horrifying (yet enticing, addicting, et. al.) age is perhaps the strongest I’ve heard in a long time. Bless ‘em for not riding the blogosphere’s increasingly homogenous lineage and focusing their aggression on that classic weapon that is so natural to them: the axe, the bass, the drums, the keys, and that bloody unbelievable howl—in short, the band. It’s a testament to something that’s been an important combatant to authority, hegemony and control for ages now, and the mantra might go a little something like this: Rock’n’roll kicks major ass.
Electric Tickle Machine are at their strongest when kicking this ass, and it’s something they do frequently throughout Blew It Again. Finding a nook between Bright Eyes and the Mae Shi without the former’s whininess or the latter’s overtly annoying ridiculousness, plus just a dash of New Pornographers’ popisms and Meat Puppets’ shit-kicking cow-punk, the majority of the record delivers a potent combination of fun and ferocity without succumbing to schmaltz. There’s little trickery to be found in what ETM’s up to in terms of song writing either, and actually, their exploitation of standard forms propels these songs beyond their humbly simple structures, buying into a concept like “the chorus” with exceptional melodies (see “Bones” or “Part of Me”) and rounding out their music with strategic placement/displacement of voices.
The Machine only gets rusty in the album’s final quarter during tracks like “Ask Me Anything” and “Fast Train,” when they slip into saccharine melodies, try to get fancy with forms, or trade in some of that aggression and frustration for feelings like longing, hope, defeat, or even (gah!) love. It’s the band’s punk attitude that thrusts them through the majority of their songs, especially the late-album rager “Honest Injun,” a track that would make Teenager of the Year-era Frank Black shit his pants with its titanic cymbal crashes, Spaghetti-Western whistles and multi-tracked vocal whoops.
As previously reported, I’m addicted to things like iPhones, facebook, blogs, tumblrs, Pitchfork, and all that crap that’s basically feeding me the same old stuff over and over again, disguising itself as “cutting edge.” We think that the prismatic possibilities of the world wide web’s daunting endlessness are giving us freedom, but maybe if we’re subscribing to the use of bookmarks, tags, and “likes,” we’re just trapping ourselves. There’s still a sure-fire staple that’ll set you free and that’s rock and roll, baby. Let Electric Tickle Machine refresh your memory.
Track List:
1. Blew It Again
2. Bones
3. Somethin' Else
4. Part of Me
5. Find A Home
6. Gimme Money
7. Ask Me Anything
8. Fast Train
9. Honest Injun
10. Tongues of Fire (Outro)
