Album Review - Mouse On Mars: Parastrophics

Mouse On Mars
Parastrophics
Rating: Yeah Daddy Make Me Want It

I will admit to not being a huge Mouse on Mars fan. Throughout their career, they have been one of those bands I have appreciated much more than I have loved. Something about their almost difficult for difficult sake's approach to post-techno has kept me at a distance; their only saving grace being a sense of humor that always tends to bob its head up and down every so often during their dense tracks. It has been about 6 years since their last release, and the electronic music landscape has changed dramatically. You can tell from the opening tracks of Parastrophics that they have obviously been listening to a lot of the Beat Music acts like Flying Lotus, adopting fractured beats, found sounds, and clipped vocal samples, and also 2-Step/wonky artists like Rustie, utilizing euphoric synths and beats. Mouse on Mars even attempt to mix everything together at some point, succeeding almost despite themselves. Has their slightly updated sound changed my opinion of them? Honestly, not really. They seem less obtuse on this record, but many times I am still held back by some of the more clinical aspects of their tracks. Again, my head wraps around it and I "get it," but my heart just sits there stoically removed from the experience.

Contrary to my usual preference, the tracks that work best on Parastrophics are the more streamlined tracks that one or two ideas to come to fruition, rather than allowing the mix to overwhelm. "They Know Your Name" trades off video game synths and wonky bass over a slapping beat.



"Baku Hipster"'s robotic vocals mesh well with the thundering proto-industrial beats and pinging electronics, beat into submission by some low end bass.



"Seaqz" slams some banging electro down, spurting buzzing synth chords over pounding drum programming.



Somehow "Metrotopy" avoids being overwhelming, even though it mixes some wonky synths with a more beat heavy backing track. There is focus on this track that is missing from the other attempts at stretching their sound. Too often, that reach gets a bit too cumbersome for their own good. "Chordblocker, Cinnamon Toasted," is buried under its own ambition. Psychedelic synths pulse over glitch-hop drums, old 70s organ drones, and some uninspired samples.



"Cricket" sounds like a Speak and Spell burning up and disintegrating in a fire. "Gearknot Cherry" allows the promising beat to get trapped with a messy mix of too many competing elements. Single "Polaroyced" walks the line closely, but ends up succeeding based on force of will alone, its funky undertones coming right to the forefront.



Technically, the album is almost perfect; the doe really know their way around the studio. But for all that technical proficiency, there still lacks that emotional element that would tie everything together. There are seeds here for a quite brilliant album, and more often than not, the songs do in fact work. However, I found myself skipping over too many tracks to get to the ones I wanted to listen to again. I would rather have them try for too much then coast by on the tried and true though, so for that I will give them accolades. I will say, I was never once bored listening to this album, and it has got me interested in hearing where they go from here.

Rating Scale:

Chilfos: masterpiece; coolest thing I've heard in ages.

Woof Daddy: excellent; just a hair away from being a masterpiece.

Grrrr: very good; will definitely be considered for my top releases of the year.

Yeah Daddy Make Me Want It: good; definitely invites further listens and piques one's interest for more material.

Meh: not horrible, but certainly not great; could have either been polished, trimmed, or re-thought.

Jeez Lady: what the hell happened? Just plain bad. They should hang their heads in shame and be forced to listen to Lady Gaga ad nauseam as penance.

Tragicistani: so bad, armed villagers with pitchforks and torches should run the artist out of the country for inflicting this abomination on the human race.