Felix Stallings, Jr. has been at the pinnacle of the second generation of Chicago house music since his wildpitch debut, By Dawn's Early Light. On that album, released under his alias Thee Maddkatt Courtship, and very much under the influence of his studio mentor, DJ Pierre, Felix took Pierre's multiply layered hypnotic grooves and added melancholic intimacy via his own soon-to-be-trademark heavily processed vocals and those of Harrison Crump, the Marvin Gaye of house music (right down to the unfortunate surname).
Felix's follow-up to the swirling electro-soul of his debut was the avant-techno funk of Alone in the Dark which blurred the distinctions Felix had made between his soulful work under the Thee Maddkatt Courtship name and the brooding vengeful techno of his Aphrohead work. Common to both, though, is Felix's unique skill at creating serene surfaces that conceal tremendous undertows beneath.
Despite receiving bouquets from critics and DJs alike, the public never took to these releases. Felix refused to compromise his vision or diminish the power of his music until 1999's I Know Electrikboy. With its fusion of Controversy-era Prince and Dare-period Human League, I Know Electrikboy laid out the blueprint for the current synth-pop/euroclash trend. With contributions from all his regulars, and with an especially sublime-sounding Harrison Crump, I Know Electrikboy is a remarkable play for both cash and kudos.
The same cannot be said for Kittenz and Thee Glitz, Felix's Electrikboy sequel. With guests drawn from outside of his usual circle, the record quickly becomes Felix's New Power Generation-equivalent. And just as NPG releases were unmistakably Prince-derived yet also Prince-diluted, so Kittenz and Thee Glitz is Housecat watered down by trivia and outside egos.
I Know Electrikboy revolved thematically around Felix's love of music, and naturally, Kittenz has a concept, too (though it may not be as distinctly international this time around): the price of fame and the lack of superstar privacy (Naomi Campbell's precedent-setting victory against The Daily Mirror came too late for Felix to adjust his stance). The Italian rip-off James Bond cover of the Emperor Norton issue of the album loses the power of the European City Rockers cover which blankly replicated the paparazzi-sniper-lensed layout of celebrity magazine Hello!. Felix and collaborator, Miss Kitten, are "shot" perusing what indictingly resembles a Cheesecake Factory menu, getting to luxury cars with bimbettes, shopping for designer items-- a vapid parade of every superstar's humdrum daily routine.
Complimenting the artwork, the album is a humdrum collection, and hardly the stuff I expect from Felix. Nothing here comes to life like his previous mini-masterpieces "My Life Muzik," "Metropolis" and "Wet Wednesday." The limp "Harlot" opens the disc, thereby introducing Melistar to the world. Melistar rides a fuzzed bassline similar to Thomas Heckmann's "Amphetamine" and blankly mimics Miss Kittin's vacant delivery. The rigid funk of "Walk With Me" follows, dipping into the same fountain as "My Life Muzik" without ever taking its shoes off.
"Pray for a Star" is classic Harrison Crump, with an angelic, mournful voice tripping through minimal accompaniment. Felix has never failed to allow Crump all the space he needs within a song, and that rule applies here as it did nearly a decade ago. But it's such a pity that Felix grants Crump only two slots on the present album. Quite why he didn't reject Miss Kittin's contributions ("Voicemail," "Madame Hollywood" and "Silver Screen - Shower Scene"), is uncertain, though it likely has something to do with a severe lapse of judgment.
Miss Kittin obviously saved her more charming performances for her albums with the Hacker (First Album) and fellow Swede, Goldenboy (Or). Felix applies the same hands-off technique to "Madame Hollywood" as he did to "Pray for a Star" but Kittin's dull-as-dishwater celebrity fantasies and irritatingly neutral delivery pale in comparison to how Harrison Crump performs in an identical environment. It's the difference between true talent and a plastic knock-off.
At least for "Silver Screen - Shower Scene" Felix breaks out a devastatingly massive club groove. The Godzilla bassline pounds hard enough it's actually easy to ignore Miss Kitten's twittering about nicotine and "endless pleasures in limousines." I read more intriguing fantasies in Dan Savage's "Savage Love" advice column on Thursdays. But Oprah Winfrey in a career-destroying scat gangbang scenario is tough competition, so maybe we'll give her a break on this one.
For "Control Freaq," Felix collaborates with Junior Sanchez to produce an all-stomping, all-tweaking but essentially dull Daft Punk sound-a-like. Melistar and Miss Kittin join together in blandness for the Level 42-does-jungle track "What Does It Feel Like?" At least Felix emulation of Visage's "The Anvil" during "Happy Hour" goes some way to redeem yet another one of Melistar's catalog of superstar room-service, chauffeur-driven things she must endure as such a major celebrity. The sad part is that none of this banging on about celebrity status has even the remotest whiff of parody or sarcasm about it. Can anyone imagine Felix and his crew writing screeds like V/VM's "Hate You," whose proclamations actually change minds about our media-whore society?
Well, regardless, however much of a disappointment the majority of Kittenz and Thee Glitz has come to me, I can't lose faith in Felix. Closing the album with "Runaway Dreamer" and Harrison Crump at his most charmingly dolorous, I know that whatever Felix does these days, he'll never lose my admiration for his previous truly stellar achievements. With any luck, Kittenz and Thee Glitz will bring him such fame and notoriety that the dire exhaustion of it all forces him into seclusion. There he could return to his true calling: creating poignant dance music without equal.
