Reviews

Richard Warren might have forgotten what he was doing on Echoboy’s latest project. “Elektrik Soul Psymphonie" is a departure from the Nottingham native’s last album, “Giraffe.” There are almost two albums here. One comprises the first three tracks and the other the last seven; this is the album worth hearing.

“Lovesick Antelopes” is a brilliant track with an excellent introduction (“Mary from San Francisco” is understated and spectacular). Warren’s vocal is distorted and mournful, adding a beautifully melancholy element to an otherwise sunny and peppy track. There is an eight-second, hold-your-breath pause in the middle of the track; what is ahead is unknown, and the suspense is exhilarating. There is definitely a shade of Aqualung here.

After “Antelopes,” things fall apart for a while. The middle of the album is pure drudgery. “Death Drums” is moderately interesting at best, making the listener wonder what it would sound like if Phil Collins had attempted to make electronic music. The title track, “Elektrik Soul (Suite)” is a confusing and frustrating romp through most of the sounds in Warren’s computer. Most of the middle of the album is populated by one or two minute tracks that are barely distinguishable from one another. There is nothing that particularly stands out, nothing that makes the listener want to stick around for more. If one were having a nightmare about being trapped in a second-rate disco, this is the music that would be playing non-stop.

From the throes of this electronic nightmare emerges “Plastic Gods,” a grandiose atmospheric adventure emerging from the previous rubbish. The electronic bagpipes are a fantastic weapon in Warren’s arsenal of gloominess. It also signals a bit of a musical shift from the repetition of the previous tracks to fresh originality for the ending of the album. “Innocent, Clueless, and Young,” features the sound of someone hitting the fast-forward button on a CD player playing a beautiful string part. The album ends with the track “43,” a benedictory dismissal of the listener from Warren’s electronic world. The last minute of the track is filled with nothing but silence, leaving plenty of room for contemplation and wonder.

Overall, the album is mediocre at best. If Echoboy had omitted the middle section, there might be something to talk about. The filler, however, cannot be ignored, as it takes up the biggest amount of the album's hour-long runtime. Serious fans of electronica might find something to enjoy, as will Echoboy devotees, but this is not fare for the common listener. “Giraffe” was approachable; “Elektrik Soul Psymphonie” is not.

In the end, “Plastic Gods” may say more about the album than anyone realizes. The sound of a machine shutting down and switching off can be heard at the end of a track. Maybe this is Warren’s way of telling us something. Perhaps he is telling us that this is the album he wanted to make, and that he refuses to worship the plastic gods at the altar of radio play and entertainment.