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Stereolab “Transient Random-Noise Bursts With Announcements” (Elektra, 1993)

From the Day-Glo blaze of those churning guitars and organ that open the album, Transient Random-Noise Bursts radiates energy and sunshine, expanding the Krautrock-meets-ye-ye sound Stereolab had established on their first two albums and early singles. The whole of the album isn’t as sensual as those opening chords of “Tone Burst;” in fact, that opening track turns downright noisy in its latter half, guitarist Tim Gane stretching his instrument to its absolute limits. No, what is so striking about this album is how visceral the whole experience is – Stereolab has amplified every aspect of their music and blast it right in your face at every turn, creating an experience that’s more emotive and affecting than any art rock has the right to be.

A big reason for all of this is the bigger budget, of course – now signed to Elektra, the band no longer has to rely solely on feedback and distortion to create memorable soundscapes. There’s nothing in their early work that even attempts to be as dreamy as “Pack Yr Romantic Mind,” a very French, swinging pop number struggling to hold back the epic shoegaze boiling beneath its surface. There’s hints of lingering primitivism to be found – such as the Raymond Scott/Perrey-Kingsley-referencing outro of “I’m Going Out of My Way,” or the primal, Velvet Underground-esque intro to the gloriously plodding “Golden Ball” – but mostly this album is about creating a work that positively shimmers with ecstatic brilliance, a band using every single tool at their disposal to explore heretofore unheard sonic territory.

Of course, it’s impossible to properly review this album and not mention “Jenny Ondioline,” the 18-minute magnum opus that became the defining track of Stereolab’s existence, for better or worse. While it sometimes receives the same criticisms that plague other drone pieces – that is, it’s “too monotonous” or “too repetitive” – I’d say that anyone making those specific arguments is basically admitting to not listening to the song very closely. What’s especially confounding about this with regards to “Jenny Ondioline,” however, is that you don’t have to listen to it very closely to catch that there are at least four very different, very distinct movements to the piece. While they’re all built around simple but insistent rhythm guitar and motorik-influenced basslines and drumbeats, each works in separate ways: the first is something of a pop song, finding beauty in chaos; the second movement is the most repetitive but functions as a mantra, building meaning by continually repeating; the third is a momentary descent back into chaos, organs and electronics wailing away over a noisy, foreboding tempest caused by the rest of the band; and the final movement is the calm, or aftermath – the main theme returning in a gentler state. It’s a glorious, heady piece for anyone with the patience to get through it, a full-on sonic assault that never lets up for 18 solid minutes. They may have made more fully realized epics after it, but none that captured the scope of the group’s sound so completely – and hey, that’s a nice summary of the album as a whole, too. —Andrew

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