Ten years ago, LA’s Shlohmo (Henry Laufer) made beats that beamed with positivity, even if they crinkled, warbled, or sounded a little too earthy for a 2010s poppy electronic tune. 2011’s Bad Vibes, for instance, had its peculiar ticks, but its quirkiness burst open the lo-fi subgenre, full of hope for a production style that could manipulate any sound into something else. Now, the industry mutated lo-fi into “background elevator music” that generative AI companies have colonized, and that it has become the backbone of pop norms it once brazenly defied. Enter REPULSOR, the overstimulated, decaying fourth studio record from Shlohmo.
After distancing himself from the music world for five years, Shlohmo makes a real attempt to reclaim his artistry, composing an album that practically casts his electronic talents to the side to instead favour classic shoegaze, crust, and sludge metal. The result is a carnal, bloody, and heartfelt piece of music: REPULSOR has Laufer’s entire body woven in its DNA. Almost each track builds upon his heavy, thrashing guitar melodies; his vocals – airy, shy, and swept up in distortion – cut through long, buzzy instrumental sections with moments of dramatic sincerity. Laufer’s lo-fi origins return in fragments, but most beats are as textured and abrasive as they can be, once again becoming a voice for defiance rather than complacency.
Shlohmo’s attraction toward shoegaze and crust metal makes sense. While the specific harsh sound relies on technology – guitar feedback, pedal distortions, and cranked-up amps – achieving that style is much more physical than just turning knobs on a MIDI board. “Fistful of Dirt”, a song that begins with atmospheric glide guitars and retching vocals before delicately folding in lyrics expressing numbness and overstimulation, moves like one of the grittier and denser My Bloody Valentine songs. Likewise, “Forever” becomes a standout track due to its overwhelming noise, drowning Laufer’s dreamy love poem in feedback. Yet, one can’t achieve that sound in post-production; it’s clear here that Laufer’s thrashing his guitar as hard as possible, slamming his whole body into the piece. Rumours of passivity be damned: Laufer is an active rocker.
If there’s one positive thing to glean from this point in Shlohmo’s career, is that he sees instruments as tools for human expression, not replacements. “Light In A Tunnel” comes in eighth on the track list, following “Forever” with an electronic progression into the hip-hop-esque Corbin collaboration “Antivenom”. It’s a muted collage of sorts, clipping vocal samples, synths, lo-fi beats, and ambient noise together. But then, a saxophone gradually fades in, washing over the harsh textures with a warm, sensual solo. It’s a glimmer of beauty and stillness, especially after approximately 20 minutes of rot. Moreover, it’s the brassiness, the tubes of air blowing through, and the subtle taps of the fingers on the keys that invite the listener to tune in. Laufer didn’t throw away electronica altogether, but that he knew that the unreplaceable sound of a gorgeous instrument would elevate the piece – make it more human.
Other methods to “humanize” REPULSOR are gimmicky. For instance, using robotic voices to allude to tech’s strangling grip on our social lives is arguably cliché, with many musicians nowadays attracted to having the computer talk back. (The 1975’s “The Man Who Married A Robot”, for example, explored the relationship between increasing tech dependency and social isolation back in 2018, having a Microsoft Sam parody narrate a man’s spiralling away from his family and into his phone.) Shlohmo can’t resist anthropomorphizing his computer, but he doesn’t do much with that concept. The noisy, fried opener “Eggtooth” begins with a cheery yet eerie “Hello!”, and later on, “It Could Take A Lifetime” flips through the same video game sound effects in a dreamy lo-fi number until the same disembodied voice signs off with “Goodbye!” The final track “Lola’s Theme” ends with a sharp, child-like “perfect.” That’s about it. He’s not using these embellishments elsewhere to darken the tone of his infamous lo-fi beats; in fact, the similarly polished tracks like “Resin” and “Henry’s Demise” carry on normally, progressing in their prickly, sort-of-fried, mid-tempo manner. (Another missed opportunity to get uglier, honestly.) When REPULSOR has a tight, interesting conceit on challenging his own identity and reliance on technology, these details become unfortunate afterthoughts.
The fusion of sleek electronics and traditional production methods is definitely modern, even if Shlohmo’s REPULSOR might not be the most revolutionary album of the year. The celebration of the clunky, earthy, and imperfect human touch, coupled with the equally limited and flawed production tools, reminds me of the avant-garde principle of returning art to the artist. For someone who saw his once-underground scene get eaten alive by bots, Shlohmo was well-equipped to make an album that successfully puts him back in command.
