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TV On The Radio, New York's duo of vocalist Tunde Adebimpe
(who graduated in cinematography)
and multi-instrumentalist David Sitek (who is also a producer),
debuted with a lo-fi limited-edition 24-song cassette, later retitled
OK Calculator (Brooklyn Milk, 2002) and shortened to 18 songs.
It's a breathtaking parade of goofy Ween-style parodies of musical genres
the insane doo-wop of Freeway,
the symphonic hip-hop of Say You Do (that samples Raymond Scott's Night and Day),
the electronic minimalism of Pulse of Pete,
the African chant of Me - I (whose coda is a romantic piano elegy),
the spectral slow-motion rap Hurt You,
the cartoonish cantata Netti Fritti (sung in Spanish),
etc.
Unfortunately the duo didn't stop there but kept packing also the most
tedious and least musical of jokes in the cassette (even a
16-minute totally uneventful On a Train).
The EP Young Liars (Touch & Go, 2003), featuring
Yeah Yeah Yeahs'
members Brian Chase and Nick Zinner,
was an equally bizarre hodgepodge of musical gags
ranging from the pseudo-emo Young Liars to the catchy Staring at the Sun.
Adding guitarist and vocalist Kyp Malone of Iran,
Desperate Youth Blood Thirsty Babes (Touch & Go, 2004) was even more
stylistically ambiguous, but began to reveal a method behind the madness:
the fusion of futuristic electronica, nostalgic pop and punk verve
(notably in Dreams)
evoked
Brian Eno's Taking Tiger Mountain.
Even the encyclopedic quotations littered throughout the songs were
unmistakably Eno-esque in nature.
Incorporating everything from
progressive-rock dynamics to gospel chanting, TV On The Radio
delivered the ideal soundtrack for the opening of the 21st century.
The Wrong Way blends pounding drums, driving horns and Captain Beefheart-esque bluesy vocals until they
slowly coalesce into a hysterically swinging jump-blues a` la
Rip Rig & Panic.
Poppy concocts un unlikely fusion of doo-wop harmonies and
shoegazing guitar.
Don't Love You weaves a psychedelic raga around a distorted organ drone,
a martial middle-eastern rhythm and petulant guitar tones.
Wear You Out closes the album with a hypnotic crescendo of
shamanic drumming, languid soul crooning and jazzy horns.
Few musicians have traveled the vast land bordered by
the fractured industrial elegy of King Eternal,
and
the a-cappella vocal harmonies of
Ambulance in just one album, or just one career.
The unlikely wedding of doo-wop, shoegazing and digital ambience turned
Return To Cookie Mountain (4AD, 2006) into an even more tormented
sonic feast.
The human voice dominates the cacophonous merry-go-round of
Wash the Day,
the demonic singalong Let the Devil In,
and, of course, A Method (a song of a-cappella Beach Boys-esque multi-part harmonies).
But the real strokes of (vocal) genius are chaotic creations such as Playhouses (acid harmonies drenched in rhythmic neurosis) and I Was A Lover (sung in a Prince-esque falsetto).
The rock epos surfaces rarely: mainly in Wolf Like Me, a fibrillating boogie with a defiant melodic approach reminiscent of the New York Dolls, and the gargantuan rhythm'n'blues Blues From Down Here.
Despite all the (stylistic) furor, the band remains surprisingly close to the
classic format of the rock song, a self-evident fact in
the catchy soul ballad Province, another falsetto-driven number,
or the emphatic glam ballad Dirty Whirlwind.
TV On The Radio found a way to make vocals and guitars relevant again in the age of chamber, electronic and digital arrangements.
Multi-instrumentalist David Sitek produced the
debut EP, In The Bronze Age (Postfact, 2007), of
dance-punk outfit Dawn Of Man, fronted by the savage vocals of
Alison Russell and scarred by the dissonant guitar of Brian Clancy.
Dear Science (Interscope, 2008) presents Tv On The Radio in their
most postmodernist vein.
Halfway Home begins with a brief tribute to the Ramones, although the song itself is a gentle lullaby sung over tribal syncopated beat and symphonic guitar distortions.
Crying is a languid funky-soul ballad in a
Prince-ian falsetto with even a horn fanfare.
The mutation of Dancing Choose from aggressive rap to catchy nonsensical
ditty culminates in a menacing crescendo led by the two saxes.
Stork & Owl continues (and, in a sense, completes) the stylistic
exploration by venturing into the realm of the easy-listening balladry with
a string quartet.
The arrangements are denser than ever.
Horns, string quartet, congas and synthesizer decorate the fibrillating
rhythm'n'blues of Golden Age.
Horns, congas and organ propel the hyper-sincopated funk music of
Red Dress.
Saxophones, flutes, string quartet, orchestral synthesizer and electronic beat
populate the otherwise tedious Love Dog.
A mist of flutes and horns and female backing vocals envelops Adebimpe's emotional crescendo in DLZ.
The band has refined its technique of not only layering ideas but also of
making them evolve in an almost organic, biological manner.
Family Tree slowly acquires its full shape of lyrical lullaby
while a string quartet draws increasingly intricate lines in the air.
Shout Me Out transitions, a bit haphazardly, from an
R.E.M.-style meditation to a delirious instrumental
bacchanal (probably the best thing on the album but, alas, faded out after less
than a minute).
As it is fitting to an attempt to sell Tv On The Radio's erudite art to the
masses, the most prominent instrument is now Tunde Adebimpe's voice. Each song
can be said to be a different arrangement for his vocals.
The mood and tone of Nine Types of Light (Interscope, 2011) is well
summarized at the beginning by Second Song, a
tuneful albeit unassuming nonchalant lied that slips into a lively soul
falsetto.
Tunde Adebimpe's simple but agonizing phrasing pens shapeless songs like
Keep Your Heart
and the lushly orchestrated floating pastoral hymn Killer Crane.
The music frequently loses its focus and wanders aimlessly into styles that,
by the standards of the early albums, feel incoherent:
Forgotten evokes mellotron-era elegies of the Moody Blues,
Will Do a tribute to classic trip-hop and
No Future Shock synth-pop of the 1980s.
The winners are masterful works of contrast:
Repetition (electronic bass pulsation, neurotic rigmarole, soaring
refrain, punkish declamation),
Caffeinated Consciousness (that indulges in explosive funk-metal but with a
dreamy REM-like refrain)
and New Cannonball Blues: fat synth, rap-soul singing, industrial beat, funk syncopation.
Everything is wrapped into a lazy, light-weight atmosphere.
TV On The Radio's bassist Gerard Smith died in 2011 of lung cancer at the age of 34.
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