On their new full-length L.A. Heartbreak, the electro-punk duo Rainbow Arabia (married couple Tiffany and Danny Preston) has evolved into a full-fledged mainstream pop act. The tropical polyrhythms of their earliest works are sublimated into post-Moroder synth vamps, and a newfound sense of balance and a lighter touch have clicked into compositions of unexpected sophistication. In one sense, this is a logical progression from their 2008 debut EP Basta through 2013’s FM Sushi, as the brightly colored and self-consciously “exotic” influences of North African and “other” pop musics have gradually becomes subtler and more balanced. But even in the album’s most satisfying moments, it’s impossible not to feel that there is something missing.
To pin down exactly what that missing element is, it’s necessary to untwine—or maybe re-entangle—the polar elements of Rainbow Arabia’s sound; big percussion grooves and brassy microtonal synths on the one hand (think Sublime Frequencies) and wistful, distant vocals and subtler arrangements on the other (think Tangerine Dream, Kraftwerk, New Order) on the other. These two ideas are not so different: Even at their most exploratory, Rainbow Arabia have always been heirs of a sort to new wave and ’80s synthpop. Their aesthetic could be described as Berlin or Missing Persons for a generation that has swapped out MTV for YouTube vids of Vybz Kartel and kuduro.
On L.A. Heartbreak, one gets the sense that Preston & Preston are less likely to spend their time daydreaming with a store-bought fluorescent light and more likely to address their issues like grown-ups. The trippy and exotic elements are still there—just toned down and incorporated into something that feels more like everyday life. “Followed” comes on like “Just Can’t Get Enough”-era Depeche Mode before shifting into more soaring sadness. “Top Hat” takes three of it’s four minutes to morph into a slow acid house track worthy of Mr. Fingers. But the various elements feel most cohesive on the lead single “Plena.” A slow reggaeton pulse is augmented by scintillating synth-work that suggests sunlight sparkling off water, as Tiffany intones “Take me on a holiday...I am so in love with you/Tell me what you wanna do” in a voice so plaintive it’s easy to read as “I am so alone with you.” A new listener might rightly wonder if this was the new Gwen Stefani song or maybe another EDM-pop prodigy a la the Chainsmokers (if that sounds backhanded, it’s not—pop this effortless is rare and never as easy to make as it is to listen to).
Over the LP as a whole, though, this more anonymous, disaffected sound leaves the topography of Rainbow Arabia a bit flat, sometimes (as on “Modern Contemporary” and “Mixolydian”) feeling like Afrobeat without any of the urgency or joy. The duo’s songwriting has grown stronger, and their arrangements more subtle. Even the record's honest disaffection feels in some ways more authentic than their erstwhile experiments in “world” sounds. But those forays, even when they were clunky or unfortunate, also brought a sense of play and provocation that is missing here. Now that they’ve landed back on Earth, maybe next time they can bring some of their wilder, more colorful dreams back with them.
