Dance music’s current retromania continues apace, the latest exhibit
being Ikonika’s second LP which could, variously,
have come out on Factory in 1983, Warp in 1991 or indeed any independent British dance label at any time between those two dates.
While this doesn’t make for a bad record per se, the slavish devotion to all things ’80s – Italo-disco, Commodore 64 sound files,
Planet Rock-style electro – makes for a queasy sense of displacement.
Then again, perhaps that’s the intent; after all, the album is named after the theoretical idea of a city within an airport,
conjuring plenty ideas of impermanence and flux.
However, there’s no harm in copying well, and ‘Aerotropolis’
does that expertly.
‘Let A Smile Be (Y)our Umbrella’’s five-minute long build of variations on a theme has a confident restraint, and ‘Cryo’’s pulsating four-to-the-floor is all brooding warehouse goodness.Ikonika
Likewise, Lynch’s proclivity for routine, familiarity and ordinariness are his creative triggers for the opposite: the mind-meltingly surreal, the scattered, unfamiliar and the bizarre. Ikonika
“I like things to be orderly,” he once said. “For seven years [every single day] I ate at Bob’s Big Boy.
I would go at 2:30, after the lunch rush. I ate a chocolate shake and four, five, six, seven cups of coffee with lots of sugar.”
Lynch perhaps most perspicaciously captures this process. “I like the idea that everything has a surface which hides much more underneath.
Someone can look very well and have a whole bunch of diseases
cooking: there are all sorts of dark twisted things lurking
I go down in that darkness and see what’s there.
Coffee shops are nice safe places to think.
I like sitting in brightly lit places where I can drink coffee and have some sugar.
Then, before I know it, I’m down under the surface gliding along; if it becomes too heavy, I can always pop back into the coffee shop.”
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