If Sound-Dust weren't a Stereolab album, it'd bowl the critics over-- what could be more innovative and lauded than Frenchified gleeful-yet-serious/accessible-yet-sexy pop? But because the band in question is the Stereolab of experimental, synth and jazz-tinged fame, and is produced and engineered by the Chicago scene's lucrative duo of Jim O'Rourke and John McEntire, its standard is set impossibly high.
The London "groop" led by the French-born Laetitia Sadier and the English Tim Gane have churned out one clever record after another, but the appeal of their uber-lounge vibe grows increasingly banal with this eighth release. Without any noticeably new sounds or instruments to blip, drip, dot or loop, Sound-Dust could be classified as a more-of-the-same-but-less-interesting album, quite a disappointment to the fan hankering for another dose of sheer inventiveness (like 1996's Emperor Tomato Ketchup).
Not that the disc isn't musically savvy, swanky, or worthy of the role as the soundtrack to the hipster's bachelor pad--the 'lab still succeeds in seamlessly blending Sadier's lilting and fresh vocals with percussion, piano and a smattering of the group's trademark shimmering electronic sounds. With standout tracks that range from the undoubtedly jubilant ("Captain Easychord," its hit single, and coincidentally possessor of the coolest song name on the album) to the mystifying ("Baby Lulu") sandwiched between a bunch of less impressive numbers, Stereolab crafts a varied record that'll keep listeners busy pushing the advance button on their stereos as they weed out their favorites. A lot of effort for the fan, indeed, but anything avant-garde requires work on the part of the "experiencer." While not as impressive as past projects, Sound-Dust still holds its own in its narrow and vague nook that Stereolab so ingeniously created in the scene years ago.
