Unpacking their influences, Flash Trading namecheck the scenes around two iconic venues: Bushwick’s Bossa Nova Civic Club and Manchester’s Haçienda. As such, you might expect the trio’s music to be a natural hybrid of the music blaring from those ’80s raves and the techno you can hear in Brooklyn today.
The Golden Mile was released by TAG OUT, a new label run by DFA’s former label manager, Kris Petersen. While at DFA, the label LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy co-founded in 2001, Petersen worked with bands like Guerilla Toss and Essaie Pas, and sonically speaking, Flash Trading are the equatorial midpoint between those two acts. They traffic in the same spirit of high-energy DIY noise as Guerilla Toss, but their old-fashioned sound occupies the same world as Essaie Pas’ classic coldwave. The trio calls its own music “balearic acid sophistihouse”—a ridiculous term, on its face, but one that nevertheless helps make sense of The Golden Mile’s collage of styles.
From the outset, Flash Trading present themselves as a band very much interested in two-things: nostalgia and vibe. Their sound, rough at the edges but tightly produced, is mostly made from burbling TB-303 tones and needling hi-hats cushioned by warm stabs of synth. Their instrumentation is never glossy or shiny; in fact, it’s so focused on sounding old that there are moments on the record that are the aural equivalent of dipping paper in tea to make it look like an antique. Their assortment of hardware drum machine sounds and schmaltzy synthesizers bathes the music in an unmistakably vintage light. Listening to their first EP, you might think you’ve found some grimy CD in a yard sale.
That’s not a bad thing; it only lends to the strong sense of mood and atmosphere. Their songs work hard to create a space for movement: Their rhythms sway with the insistence of a rocking chair, and as hard-edged as they can get, a certain brightness pervades their work. The tracks on The Golden Mile are as sunny as rays of morning light piercing through club fog.
These songs are anchored by vocalist Monae Freeman, who uses her voice intelligently and interestingly. In more house-oriented tracks, she bubbles beneath the mix, sounding almost like a well-wrought sample, and in poppier efforts like “Elmhurst” she stays up front, guiding the song. She’s an elegant performer who helps duct-tape the disparate sounds together in a way that makes sense. In their best songs, like “Acceleration” or “Vini,” they’re able to concoct a musical blend that’s equal parts aggressive acid house and plush sophistipop. On paper, it shouldn’t work, but the trio’s ability to navigate the swirling world of their own making is admirable.
