History of Modern is being released at the most synth-heavy time for popular music since the days when OMD first blew up. In America they did it via Pretty in Pink with a less art-rock and more palatably pop version of the sound that is popular now-- the sound that made them stars in the UK. You might think it's the perfect time for the band to stage an improbable comeback, to once again take their original synth-disco sound all the way. Hey, if 43-year-old house producer David Guetta can transform himself into a Billboard star, anything's possible, right?
Unfortunately History of Modern won't be conquering anything except maybe the already primed nostalgia circuit. After a long layoff, OMD have made the kind of the just-okay, just-what-you'd expect album that's always snagged by the handful of folks hungry for anything new by their Big 1980s faves. Think of all those middling Tears for Fears and Erasure "reunion" albums that feel mostly like announcements that their creators aren't quite dead yet: Someone's got to be buying them, despite the fact that they rarely match (let alone top) the originals. So it goes with History of Modern.
Not that delivering what your aging audience expects is such a bad thing, especially when your attempts to move beyond those expectations can be kind of embarrassing. No one's "rock" should try to imitate the cranky, grit-less late Jesus and Mary Chain or Primal Scream's limpest electro-sleaze, though "New Babies; New Toys" sounds like OMD thinks both bands were onto something. And while their dance-pop songs, like "The Future, the Past, and Forever After", might yet make it onto the playlists of your less-discerning gay clubs, their thin Hi-NRG pastiches would be eaten alive on the radio, where today's meat-wearing bad romancers have made big beats and instant-earworm choruses a requirement. If your kids abuse you with The Fame Monster on the way to school, don't think counter-programming History of Modern is going to help you seem down.
At its best, HOM sticks to the sound that made OMD stars-- lush, romantic 80s-style electronic music, Andy McCluskey still shamelessly manhandling the melodramatic romantic metaphor, perfect for your high school reunion or remembering prom night-- while mostly ignoring the pre-America "difficult" stuff that made them interesting. This is definitely not an album aimed at young post-punk fans who just connected with the ambitious, avant-leaning, and recently reissued Dazzle Ships, OMD's last stab at proggy pomp before they became more reliable (and less winningly weird) hit-makers. But when they want to, OMD can still hit that peak of corny slow-dance grandeur, as on the second part of the title track. So if getting ripped on a box of white wine and bringing on VH1 Classic is how you fill up your weeknights, here's a way to recreate the feeling at your cubicle the next day while still nominally listening to something new.
