Few things bring to mind the phrase "kiss of death" more than a sophomore offering from any band lumped into the crush of The Larry Tee Electroclash Attack of Two Summers AgoTM. Zoot Woman was a full-fledged member of that blitzkrieg. Cuts from their debut, Living in a Magazine, littered the countless electro comps sandwiched between Fischerspooner centerfolds and rubber-banded onto the new Ladytron release. Zoot Woman reviews were packed with so many references to other electro acts it was difficult to tell who was really doing what, and why we should care.
Happily, this is all over. Electroclash is fading like a fond but embarrassing memory, like the time you made out with the really skanky VJ because he promised to play that Stardust video you really like. But Zoot Woman is still having a go at it, and they've returned with an album that sticks close to their first recipe, bringing back the fun with a more polished and occasionally darker sound. It's full of their familiar hooks and beats, and more of Johnny Blake's suave-yet-gruff vocals. Think of a French Kathleen Turner without the weird accent. And male.
With a throbbing bassline out front and sharper electric guitars pushed lower into the mix, Zoot Woman leads off with the first single, "Grey Day". Existing in some no-man's-land between dance and rock, it would make a welcome addition to a Britpop dance night where the kids are used to turning medium tempo tracks into full-on rave anthems. "Taken It All" slows things down, adds a bit of faux-70s glamour, and reminds us that guitars will be taking a backseat to keyboards for the remainder of the journey.
"Hope in the Mirror" infuses a bit of breezy pop silliness into the mix with light keyboard chords and stylized guitar riffs. Clearly the one-off track in the lot, "Snow White" channels Elliott Smith for an acoustic ballad peppered with sub-glitch noises and a front-and-center drum kit. The instrumental "Calmer" weaves in horn and backwards samples and sounds like clean/smooth/calm early Beta Band. The album ends with "Half Full of Happiness", not quite brooding but full of enough moody, flipped around backwards samples that something is obviously amiss. Warning: the last two minutes drone on long enough to bring down the room, and should be probably skipped.
Zoot Woman isn't essential, but it is infectious. It won't find an easy home on most dance floors, but it will mix in well at the beginning of the night before the lipstick is smeared and the vodka can remove nail polish. So put up with one more electro reference and take Miss Kittin's advice: play it at a backyard party with friends, sing along in the car, or bribe the bartender at the hotel lounge to slip it in. And karma sutra training would probably help, too.
