Synth-pop has always been filled with deliberate coldness and facelessness-- nothing new about that. But that's not Client's style: They're one of few synth acts I've heard who seem to lack personality mostly by accident. It's hard to even pinpoint where that sensation comes from. It's not in their music, which is certainly up (one of) my alley(s): chilly, elegant electro-pop, poised and businesslike, full of hooks. It's not in their image, which is a good match for the sound-- first two and now three women, semi-anonymous, dressed up in sleek 80s businesswear and flight-attendant uniforms that go perfectly with the luxury and efficiency they're trying to conjure. Heartland, their third album, is the kind of full-on solid record I barely even expect to hear these days, every track as concise and hook-filled as the last. Apart from the lyrics, they have all the bases covered: Anyone looking for reliable synth-pop thrills will find something to enjoy in just about every song.
The vagueness of those lyrics might be a clue to the problem, though: Client don't seem to have much that they're actually trying to get across to us. It's not just a matter of electro detachment, either. This, after all, is music that descends in large part from Depeche Mode, whose Andy Fletcher was the first to sign Client-- and god knows those guys are big enough drama queens to inspire deep personal attachment, fervent teenage under-the-covers listening. The band Ladytron, Client's closest English peers, have been learning to pack their tracks with the same kind of emotion; Goldfrapp, probably the next closest, just ramp up their glitter and physicality to the point of decadence. The problem with Client is that they're offering...what? It's strangely hard to find an angle in there, the right aesthetic particulars to give the band a face and a feel. And if you've located it, feel free to write in and tell me where.
The funny part is that Heartland really is awfully well-made-- great hooks, structure, production, the works. The introduction of a new member on bass gives their sound a new smoothness, which they use to cruise beautifully up to any number of great hooks. There's one on "Drive" with the casual cool of Elastica. There's one in "Monkey on My Back", with beautifully scripted pulsing and call-and-response chants. There's a Goldfrapp-style glam shuffle on "Lights Go Out", the most fetching of several songs that all might as well be singles-- I'll bet anything you'll hear it in a commercial one day, get it stuck in your head, and wind up thinking it sounds great. It's probably telling, though, that the big fun surprise comes from one of the band's old tricks, bringing in guest musicians to inject some personality. Simon Tong adds guitar to a cover of Adam Ant's "Zerox Machine", and while it's not quite the record's most memorable tack, the band suddenly seems to muster up some of the verve and spark that's oddly absent elsewhere.
What's really strange is that Client seem to think of their faceless, uniformed image as some kind of commentary on "manufactured" mainstream pop. Weird, given that that's actually the context where these songs work best-- as tight, stylish singles, the sort you can love hearing on the radio or the dance floor for a few months, all without stressing over what the band as a whole is all about. It's when you bring this stuff home, at LP length, that you start wondering: excellent craftsmanship, but what's your thing? Other bands are doing this too, after all-- and even when they're not as consistent, a lot of them have something in their music that we stand more of a chance of really falling for.
