Elle Milano
Acres of Dead
Space Cadets
Brighton Electric
By Jose Fritz
At the end of an era that began with 45rpm singles, we’ve found ourselves possibly even more obsessed with mp3 singles. There are signs of the death of the LP looming everywhere as radio hasn’t been album-oriented in about 30 years. It is a surprise then to my cynical ears that Acres of Dead Space Cadets is an album that remains strong throughout. Even probing into the deep album cuts yields some of the strongest tracks like “Curiosity Killed the Popstar,” a brilliantly varied song. Curiosity comes roaring in with overwhelming guitar effect and drama then drops down to acoustic guitar and xylophone. Lead singer Adam Crisp sings a careerist caveat: “Some people are getting all the luck, fall in love with us. But if I may be honest, though I probably won’t, I don’t believe a word of what I just wrote.”
The song pauses for an instant to breathe, then comes crashing back, snarky and sour, with the warning “Why you shouldn’t sign to a major label” / Available in hardback! / Sounds like a laugh, but careful kids, here we are.” The song breaks out into spoken word segments, strange unidentified click noises and the densest sing-along-chorus since The Wall. It’s subversive.
The best pop music is always subversive. There’s nothing challenging about reaching the ears of idiot 14-year old girls lusting for vacuous, baby-faced boys in matching costume, dancing the hopelessly stiff dance of the exceedingly Caucasian. They are sieves and sponges, bowing to peer pressure and product placement. They are blank canvases to smear shit and sugar upon. Subversive pop goes a whole different route.
Subversive pop gives the finger to that poor girl who was just innocently craving social acceptance and instead seeks the ears of the pompous indie snob. It appeals to pop bigots, pop purists and archival pop addicts with PhDs in ethnomusicology. Bands like Jesus Jones, Ned’s Atomic Dustbin and VPN all have this quality. The songs are well-produced, catchy and have recognizable hooks. They maintain these more basic tenets of pop, but structurally they veer off the schematic.
It makes them each obscure, remote and powerful. Even to an anglophile, Elle Milano is obscure. The three-piece is from the seaside town of Brighton, residing on the micro-indie label Brighton Electric. If you live in Brighton and you’ve been wondering what’s making all that noise in the basement, that’s them. Do me a favor and stop calling the cops. We’re all hoping for a U.S. tour over here, so let’s hope our government doesn’t fuck up their visas.
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