Neon Indian
Psychic Chasms
(Lefse, 2009)

What I know of Alan Palomo comes from his first album, whose title I originally read as Psychic Charms. “Glo-fi” or “chillwave,” as it’s been called, has been making the rounds since June or so, with bands named after items from the attic—like Washed Out and Memory Tapes—following suit with a sound akin to a twirly cassette tape blur that nicely implements indie’s childhood fixation of late. Generally, sound is more important than lyrics. Think Talkboy recordings made by children that’ve been melted by sun and drugs. Prototypes of this shoegaze-derived soundscaping include Boards of Canada and the Olivia Tremor Control, with Daft Punk thrown in for funk and heft. But Palomo (aka Neon Indian) has developed into the DJ Shadow or Burial of the genre. Album-oriented while his peers prefer singles, he typifies the tape-y haze’s extreme to its max and uses it on the best album the scene has seen since Boards of Canada’s Music Has the Right to Children. And Psychic Chasms is half as long and twice as tuneful.

His music isn’t beautiful or anything, and certainly not subtle or tender like Endtroducing…, but even Palomo’s one-minute songs are a display of riches in a shiny glass case that showcase his mind-boggling synth collection. Drums boil down to the same mash/stomp kick/snare pattern, just like Justice used on Cross in 2007 as a metronomic framework for extraordinarily maximal music. Flutters, runs, Mario 3 power-ups, and the occasional plastic guitar solo perk up your ears every few seconds, which means that, in a half-hour running time, there’s a lot of ear-nuzzling for your ADHD.

Every track stands out eventually, but the initial phase of these—the woo-hooing “Deadbeat Summer”, the guffawing “Laughing Gas”, ’80s movie montage “Terminally Chill”, the glinting title tune, and the heavenward “Should’ve Taken Acid with You”—make me wish there was a radio format for this parallel, under-the-bed universe. Even the intro is memorable: Just a square wave greeting and a drum roll. I’d categorize the lyrics as “wistfully regretful” if “Acid” is any indication—too bored and baked out of his mind to quite recall a breakup that he may or may not have hallucinated altogether. And the wide sonic palette has its in-jokes; a 303-like acid synth blurts underneath it before the Nintendo-fied “Mind, Drips” shows up. The :25, :48, :57, and 1:43 songs definitely aren’t interludes. If there’s any guilt to be had, it’s how nostalgia-driven the project is, designed to sucker us in like an old cartoon on YouTube. This was made for the MySpace generation. So I can’t promise Chromeo fans won’t dig the thing, but let’s be thankful Palomo backed it up with melodies and wit.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

Like this article? DIGG it and sign up for our RSS feed!