After a very quiet 2011, the curious Brooklyn label Olde English Spelling Bee is relaunching with Alice Cohen's second full-length of 2012. Since the 1970s, she's fronted numerous groups, some of which had brief flirtations with commercial success: Philadelphia funk outfit Fun City, new wave also-rans the Vels, or the Roadrunner-inked grunge act Die Monster Die. Cohen is almost certainly the only artist to have been on the same labels as Nickelback and Oneohtrix Point Never.
And yet, while Pink Keys sounds like a perfect fit within OESB's body of sci-fi synth pop, Cohen's considerable history doesn't form a part of any greater narrative for the label. It's simply a hooky, immersive, and occasionally goofy record of people sounding like computers and computers making imperfect sounds-- the chewy basslines, Linn drum machines, and marshmallow synth tones certainly qualify it as "retro," but it's hard to imagine a time when it could have sounded futuristic. "Dead Leaves in Milk Glass" takes its title as sonic inspiration, brittle acoustic guitars and a miniaturized synth run suggesting Nite Jewel's recent forays into merging coffee shop balladry with a kosmische fetish, but with stronger melodic presence. Elsewhere, Pink Keys situates itself in a middle class of 1980s electronic pop: Typically we hear bands recall the absurdly expensive studio creations of the time (Twin Shadow, Ice Choir) or go to the opposite end and embrace the crudest technology possible (the Soft Moon, Black Marble). The songs on Pink Keys are built with impressive machinery, but the kind that risk failure. On something like "La Fete Etrange", what could easily pass for pompous hair-metal licks get turned into blunt synth blurts, charming with minor malfunctions. There's a slight awkwardness to the purple funk of "Silent Movie" where the synths don't bounce quite right, but it nonetheless finds its own groove.
Pink Keys possesses not so much with a personality as it does a presence. Cohen stacks and refracts her nasal, youthful vocal lines, which tumble over each other and harmonize imperfectly. Beyond her contributions, the album is a community affair, enlisting the help of mixer Chris Moore, percussionist Thor Harris, and lo-fi R&B recluse Autre Ne Veut. As trivial as these connections might initially seem, Cohen stands to benefit from any sort of grounding. Pink Keys occasionally lapses into the kind of crystal visions that make perfect sense solely to the people who come up with them-- witness the hook during the cosmic honky-tonker "Mauve Mood": "Too much static on the astral phone in a mauve mood and a lilac zone." There is also a song called "Salamander's Tale", which at least has a title that gives you fair warning of what to expect from it. I think Cohen gets it, though. On "La Fete Etrange", she sings, "I'd like to walk around in your world, but I can't live it for you," and while it's just a little nonsensical, it's something of an M.O. for Pink Keys-- to create your own personal world, and acknowledge the risk that its rules might not make sense to everyone.
