For so young a genre, lap-pop has run an outsized gamut of phases. Careening in just a few short years from imminent explosion, to reviled novelty, to just another banal indie staple, its artists have had precious little time to reconnoiter and derive a cogent statement of intent. Lacking a true flagship work, there seems a persistent air of illegitimacy about the genre, and so its artists' vision of DIY is viewed with less credibility than punk's or hip-hop's. But it takes at least as much skill to program powerful beats and create dynamic textures from celluloid as it does to bash guitars and drums into anti-music oblivion. And while lap-pop may not yet have any sort of unifying relevance, the technology ain't going anywhere; someone, somewhere, will eventually get around to writing the masterpiece that albums like The Notwist's Neon Golden and Ms. John Soda's No P. or D. fell just short of.
Likewise, for such a succinct album, Cash and Carry Songs, the harmless debut by French lap-pop duo Octet, runs an outsized gamut of styles. If lap-pop hasn't yet found its chef d'oeuvre, this effort is sufficiently above average to keep connoisseurs of the stuff engaged and sated. For now, albums like this--- congenial and well-crafted, yet poorly defined-- provide the par for course. And that's okay.
Cash and Carry Songs dabbles in divergent styles, failing to hunker down and commandeer its own. A sense of Múm-meets-big-beat runs throughout, posing an interesting textural dynamic. Check the spaced harpsichords and rock-steady beat of opener "Hey Bonus"; the combination lays a throbbing, motorik groundwork while simultaneously casting light from above. Not 10 minutes yonder lie the lubed-up, housey electronics of "Sneakers & Thong", and further still the glaring rhythmic drones of "Trackball of Fire". It's obvious Francois Goujon and Benjamin Morando know their way around a Reason interface, and the finesse with which they build a distinct instrumental foundation for each track is admirable.
Octet are at their best when they involve vocals, rather than milking tedious atmospherics, such as on the beatific but droning "Anti-Camp Policy". The aforementioned "Hey Bonus" is especially strong, despite its forgettable lyrics. In such a cordial context, where psych-pop meets spliced vocals and a house beat, it's easy to overlook a chorus of, "Wasting my time/ Losing my mind." In fact, during some of Cash and Carry Songs' more placid instrumentals, such unexceptional vocal flourishes are sorely missed. "Kino Cat Leng" is just a tad too blip-happy for a song without the telltale trademarks of IDM's more successful composers.
Guesting on a couple of tracks is M83 vocalist Suzanne Thoma, whose robustly demure pipes are a perfect complement to Octet's slick yet too often dainty orchestrations. "Blind Repetition" is further aided by some deftly interwoven bass clarinet swells; lacking a steady beat, it's Cash and Carry Songs' closest encounter with ambient, and incidentally, one of its most sophisticated moments (something the duo might want to note on subsequent efforts). On the opposite end of the spectrum, "Feels Good to Give Up" successfully approximates the hip-hop-tinged female vocal pop so prevalent in the American mainstream these days, while Peaches cohort Taylor Saavy's vocal embellishments recall Octet's countrymen Phoenix.
But what hinders this collection, and lap-pop in general, is a vacuous lack of identity. It has taken other forms of electronic composition up to 30 years to successfully invoke the ghosts in the machine, and most strains are still learning. On that timeline, lap-pop has barely begun its ABC's. Still, for a young genre with grandiose ambitions, Octet are a promising act who might one day turn exemplary.
