It's easy to forget that, when they first started out, Hot Chip operated with a devilish grin. "I'm like Stevie Wonder/ but I can see things," Alexis Taylor sang on "Keep Fallin'", from the band's 2004 debut, Coming on Strong. In the same breath he compared himself and compatriot Joe Goddard to Gene and Dean Ween: "We're like brothers who make records who can't play things." There was a boast about blasting Yo La Tengo from expensive cars, a heartbroken lament centered around prepackaged macaroni and cheese, and a cheeky proclamation about remembering Prince play with Vanity 6 when the narrator was still in diapers. And, I mean, that album title: If naming a fairly minimalistic, handmade electro-soul album Coming on Strong isn't having a laugh, then I don't know what is.
Over the years, Hot Chip retained their sense of humor, largely in the visual sense (funhouse torture devices, boy bands getting attacked by laser beams), but something not-so-funny also started to take place: As they perfected a savvy alchemy of dance and modern pop, their music became more serious. Amidst the big, beating heaters, dancefloor deconstructions, and "Simpsons"-soundtracking anthems, there emerged sincere ruminations on love, protection, and the pleasure that one derives from simply experiencing life, all of which were fully realized on 2010's excellent One Life Stand. The band's most concise and uniformly gorgeous album to date, One Life Stand also represented Hot Chip's most clear-eyed material yet, suggesting that the group was, somewhat soberly, growing up.
Luckily, growing up in Hot Chip's world is a fucking blast. In Our Heads, the group's fifth full-length, is their most playful and colorful record yet, an album-length manifestation of that "sounds of the studio" game that cut straight through the middle of "Shake a Fist". Fittingly, the record that In Our Heads bears most resemblance to in Hot Chip's catalog is the one that bore that single, 2008's Made in the Dark. That album's audacious genre-flaunting was softly tsk-tsk'd at the time of release for being too uneven and grab-baggy, but its bold charms have lent it a fond longevity. In Our Heads is similarly shaggy-- it kicks off with a tuba-heavy anthem and sails off into the sunset in delicious, wispy yacht-rock glory, with nine detailed detours in between-- but the upward progression in quality from One Life Stand is apparent. The songwriting is as strong and intricate than on 2006's classic The Warning, even if it takes a few listens for the finer points to sink in.
A good word to describe One Life Stand's overall vibe was "devotional," where the practice of worship was solemn and the higher power being worshiped was love, whether for a partner or your fellow man. In its own way, In Our Heads is a religious album, too, a fact that could be gleaned before hearing a single note, courtesy of the colorful cover art and inside-package designs that strongly resemble stained glass. On this collection, worship is celebratory, a point driven home by the LP's mission statement tucked within the sped-up house of "How Do You Do?": "A church is not for praying/ It's for celebrating the light that bleeds through the pain." Clubgoing agnostics might stay in forever as an act of protest, but the act of believing in something-- whether everlasting love, family, finality, or the essence of self-- is presented throughout as euphoria, the absolute definition of getting high off your own supply.
More than anything else, Hot Chip believe in music itself. On the outset, that statement comes across as a tad obvious, considering the band's career-long demonstration of impeccably executed taste has lent them the somewhat double-edged tag of "your favorite music nerd's favorite band." However, In Our Heads' benevolent generosity stretches beyond well-placed reference points, becoming an act of celebration that relates to making music. Joe Goddard told us back in March that much of the album's inspiration came from the "ecstatic moments" found on maxi-12" extended mixes from the 1980s. Although the slow jams on display (especially the affecting closer "Always Been Your Love", featuring Gang Gang Dance's Lizzi Bougatsos on backing vocals) find the band further spinning their love of R&B and soft-rock staples into the type of sonic gold that would be impressive on its own, it's the psychedelic blowout of In Our Heads' back half, which nicely compliments the front end's squelchy pop pleasures, that embraces that extended-mix ideal.
There's the dark, swirling techno of "Flutes", the up-with-movement electro-gospel of "Ends of the Earth", and, most notably, "Let Me Be Him". The song's a seven-minute-plus odyssey that lovingly glides through miles of endless warmth, its final destination a tropical utopia slathered in snatches of Balearic guitar that drip with sticky nectar. "Let Me Be Him" is one of the finest songs Hot Chip have put to tape, and from Goddard's lyrical genuflection to a higher power to an Alexis-sung line that doubles as a plea for fertile creativity ("Work hard, play hard at work/ Lend me your ideas/ But not too fully formed"), it beats with a bejeweled heart.
As a culture, dance music is sometimes perceived to be exclusionary, but its most basic pleasures lie in the escapism that the raw materials provide. Whether you're getting pummeled by a club's soundsystem or enjoying the comforts that a decent pair of headphones provide, the right tune can turn you starry-eyed, wiping your mind totally blank and making you happy to be alive just so you could be present to experience that very moment. Hot Chip understand that feeling, and through the broad populist strokes that frequently make up their work, they want everyone to experience it. That's why they're an important band, but In Our Heads isn't the work of a band that's attempting to assert its relevance. It's a meditation on positivity, a hedonistic joyride that isn't afraid to get deep, and a reminder that any band-- any album, any song-- can be your life, even for just a moment. Hot Chip do this for themselves, but also, for us.
