The Brooklyn trio FORMA's 2011 self-titled debut was a dream pop record that felt very much in tune with electronic world's continued embrace of new age textures. Presented with a wide-eyed, almost precious demeanor, FORMA was curious and cosmic, though not terribly dynamic: Mark Dwinell, Sophie Lam, and George Bennett came off as intrepid sonic pioneers, gently forming otherworldly landscapes in ways that were effective, if too timid, in their simplicity. Looking at the Mars-like terrain on the album's cover, it wasn't hard to see where FORMA's collective head was, but it also didn't suggest there was much life to be found out there. A year later, FORMA return with OFF/ON, promising a darker spin on their sound. The cover-- a fluorescent slash of magma spilling down a black basaltic rock face-- suggests OFF/ON's planet has generated potentially dangerous readings. And while the most engaging moments foster a sense of unease, or more typically a false sense of security, OFF/ON never deviates from FORMA's designated path: it mimicks a crisper, slightly more realized version of its predecessor.
FORMA pull off some neat tricks over the course of these 46 minutes, none of which just any average cosmonaut with an arsenal of analog machines could easily do. Clearly there's a vested interest in the early electronic thrummings coming out of Germany in the late 70s and early 80s, as some of their own equipment dates back to around that time. So it's to be expected that the sounds FORMA are using are naturally fairly sterile and cold. But instead of trying to replicate those moods and atmospheres, FORMA approach their music with a sense of warmth and wonder, manipulating and balancing the familiar to create tracks the signify discovery, rebirth, and exploration. "FORMA306C" feels like a krautrock muscle relaxer, swaying back and forth like tipsy ocean liner, while "FORMA286B" boasts an array of dizzily playful components that practically orbit around your head.
FORMA aren't necessarily forthcoming with their secrets, concealing or downplaying the most interesting elements with a shaded and understated approach that invites you to either simply sink in or tune out. But underneath the surface-- and upon close, repeated listens-- the details begin to emerge. It's clear that there's something nefarious going on in opener "OFF", thanks to those telling, Carpenter-like nightmare arpeggiations, but more nuanced tracks like "FORMA278" benefit from slight drops in barometric pressure that add a dimension of disquietude to what could otherwise be described as music better suited to accompany an episode of "NOVA." An even better example is closer "FORMA315", an uncharacteristically beat-driven piece that is not only daydream-y but slightly scared and remorseful.
The only real problem is that in the event that you can't give OFF/ON your full, undivided attention, colors begin to blur and the music slips into the background. Taking into consideration the way that FORMA serialize their song titles with seemingly meaningless numbers, OFF/ON can feel like a smattering of random entries plucked from larger catalog, one that's ever-expanding and dictated by an algorithm that mutates only ever so slightly from sample to sample. In this light, the attention to detail-- on the part of both the listener and the producer-- is all the more important, especially when the risk of things becoming repetitive and interchangeable runs this high.
But at its core, OFF/ON is a solid record that thrives on the idea of possibility and hedged optimism. Listening for a first time, it's hard not to draw parallels between OFF/ON and daredevil Felix Baumgartner's record breaking space jump last month. As it ran live, major news outlets cut away from his video feed in case the unthinkable were to happen. For some, the suspense was unbearable, but for others, the fact that everything had been so carefully planned and meticulously ordered, the chance that this human rocket would accidentally drill himself into the earth's crust seemed surprisingly slim. Instead, you were left blind to a sense of possibility and wonder that, in your own head, was all the more vivid and rewarding than the actual footage could ever be.
