Still Life, the title of ALASKALASKA‘s second album appears to be missing a question mark.
There’s a lurking existential crisis in the South London electronic artists’ return. While not strictly a ‘pandemic record’ (most songs were written before covid), Still Life is about taking stock and being mindful of what is really important in our lives. Is this still life? Three years after their critically acclaimed debut Dots, the album builds on their intelligent, dance-flavoured mash up of a range of influences, from Fever Ray to Björk and Arthur Russell. Writers Fraser Rieley and Lucinda Duarte-Holman lean much more into the analogue synth sounds of freakish 80s sci-fi movies, chopped and diced with producer Jas Shaw (Simian Mobile Disco), adding a delicious alien tension under Duarte-Holman’s tender vocals.
Opening with a hopeful song dedicated to a close friend’ newborn, ‘Growing Up Pains (Unni’s Song)’ imagines the world that the child will inherit: “earthquake, pound cake, handshake, toothache, heartbreak”. The only song written during lock down, ‘TV Dinners’ is perhaps most explicit about the emotional desensitisation of doom-scrolling and rolling news reports: “Another TV Dinner (not the news)” . That we are able switch it all off is essential for self-preservation, but it’s also a privilege that fuels feelings of guilt. ‘Person A’ and ‘Rise and Shine’ internalise a paradox of being connected to everything while being unable to communicate what we need. Employing interesting rhythmic twists and intertwining vocals, either track could nestle comfortably alongside Jenny Hval on a playlist of artful electronica, thanks to Duarte-Holman’s plain speaking narrative that cuts through the noise.
The title track opens with a cool cheeky and choppy synth spun in west-African rhythm, rather like The Knife, but unlike the Swedish duo, ALASKALASKA go for a less-is-more approach. ‘Still Life’ injects a steady stream of idiosyncratic beat poetry into its intense burbling techno machinery, embellished by snatches of harmonic vocals. Elsewhere, experimental gives way to more orthodox songwriting. ‘Get Me High’, one of the longer tracks, is a nice laid back twilight tune but doesn’t really go anywhere in particular. By contrast, album highlight ‘Glass’ adds chiming indie guitars and a rumbling bass line to its wispy synth mainframe, recalling the nonchalance of early Ladytron as it pulls anxiously at the threads of a society dictated by technology. Aptly named, ‘Simple’ is introspective, nostalgic and restrained. Dual vocals yearn for childhood in a haze of fluttering synths and unhurried beats. ALASKALASKA return to jazz-inspired ambient techno on ‘Flowers’ , a heaving, spinning head-trip with full on sub bass pulses. “Where do we go when the flowers won’t grow?” asks Duarte-Holman in the song’s closing mantra. The gradual build of closing track ‘Long Lasting Pleasure’ is uplifting. Layers of guitar and synth textures create a sense of being carried high above its low, deep synth pads, before gently touching down again in a glowing fade out.
ALASKALASKA don’t really fit neatly into a particular genre box. Having emerged at the same time as the Brixton Windmill post punk scene and south London’s jazz revival, they were a bit of a local outlier. Still Life sounds like they’re still asking themselves who they want to be. It’s a question that, when answered authentically, keeps things interesting, focused and thoroughly engaging.
‘Still Life’ is released on 14th October via Marathon Artists.
