Biodance
Crisopa
n5MD Records.
SCQ Rating: 80%
Naked women don’t
figure into electronic music that often. Moreover sex doesn’t sell in this
scene, probably because people willing to immerse themselves in a musical form
that largely dispels hooks, repetition and vocals likely aren’t the demographic
to objectify or be swayed by nude provocations. Not to say that Biodance’s
cover-art seeks to challenge or offend anyone; it certainly doesn’t bother me.
But it addresses a cornerstone of humanity – sexuality – that rarely gets a nod
in comparison to most electronic muses (namely – childhood nostalgia, natural
imagery and states of clairvoyance). Crisopa’s style fits far more comfortably
into these well-trodden themes than as the sort of slick club beats you’d spin
while envisioning naked women in your gin and tonic but like the cover-art,
these songs navigate unique headspace.
Without breaking
ground on any new territory, Crisopa has taken electronic music’s insular
nature to the dance-floor. The evidence is all over “Ruled By Strange New
Laws”, a familiar analog-fed drone-piece that rises into a frothy, dream-bound
club-banger. That template follows suit after the starry piano refrain of
“Gaviot”, the patient choral of “Es Todo Mental” and the latest house rhythms on
“Biodance With Me”, with each boiling over into a rich euphoria. These lush
beats aren’t intended to clash against whatever dubstep happens to be cresting
at the moment; Crisopa’s dance-floor remains a personal one – your apartment’s
kitchen with the lights out, your neighbourhood after dark, virtually anywhere
that feels intimate. Because despite Biodance’s modus operandi, which gives
Boards Of Canada’s mystic feel a linear push into the line-up outside the club,
Crisopa’s work demonstrates vivid sensuality in soft focus. Whether listening
to the BoC-indebted loneliness of “White Vacuum” or the seismic landscape of “Planets
With Lava Oceans”, Biodance deserves to be heard in the dark - before, during or
after you’ve been in proximity to someone you love. It’s that sort of listen; a
headphone record you dance alone to.
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