Apparat's Sascha Ring has kept busy the last few years with various mixes and side projects-- an entry into the DJ-Kicks series, his Moderat collaboration with fellow Berliners Modeselektor-- but hasn't released a proper solo album since 2007's Walls. That record, which brought together electro-shoegaze sweep with a vocal-driven pop approach, felt like a breakthrough for him. In place of the dance-floor glitch of his early-2000s work were songs with hooks, and his sense of lush atmosphere gave them a certain weight and grandiosity. Writers mentioned 1990s dream-poppers Slowdive, and that seemed like an apt comparison for the velvety digital fusion he was exploring.
Of course, a lot's changed in four years, and Ring's latest LP, The Devil's Walk, arrives at a time when vocal electronic music is more popular than ever. Though his style differs quite a bit from guys like James Blake or the chillwave set, there's nonetheless a bigger audience for pop set to programmed beats. And anyone checking in for the first time should find plenty to like here, right off the bat. Particularly in the record's front half, Ring shows off formidable production skill, wrapping his whispery vocals in some straight-up gorgeous arrangements. Synths swell up and retreat, drums skitter in and out frame-- there's a lot of motion but it's got grace and purpose.
But this isn't an instrumental record, and in order for it to succeed on multiple levels, the lyrics and songwriting should be on point, too. That happens some of the time-- "Song of Los" and "Black Water" showcase Ring at his most emotive, his melancholic vocals and phrases yearning and nearly anthemic. But several of these tracks have a vaguely cheesy, power-ballad quality about them. It's a hard thing to put your finger on, but much of The Devil's Walk seems like it was intended to be "epic"-- there are plenty of whisper-to-a-roar builds, at least on the vocal side-- and this pursuit of bigness gets tangled up in overly sentimental, conventional radio-pop delivery.
For example, if you were to remove the sparkling backdrop from "Escape", you'd be left with something that resembles a B-level Coldplay song, complete with some eyebrow-raising imagery of "the street rushing beneath" and "cracks in the concrete." Of course, there's nothing inherently wrong with this sort of awestruck emoting; it just feels like a weird fit with Apparat's sonic approach, this very thoughtful and intricate techno. The styles work against each other. So, in the end, the record is a disjointed listen-- there are some really beautiful and even moving stretches but too many missed opportunities to truly bring together Ring's love of pop with his natural gift for beats.
