"I wanna take this tape and blow up ya fuckin' stereo!" These are the first brash, goofily antagonistic words shouted on the Death Set's sophomore record, Michel Poiccard. It's a sort of perfect mantra for the Baltimore-by-way-of-Australia band, which makes an enthusiastic racket mixing ADD punk, leftover electroclash, and Licensed to Ill-era Beastie Boys. Sadly, the shouting voice belongs to founding member Beau Velasco, who died in 2009 of a drug overdose, only a year after the release of the band's debut, Worldwide. Even when not stated explicitly, most of Michel Poiccard feels like a love letter to Velasco from remaining founder Johnny Siera; there's a sadness and longing tucked into even songs that aren't ostensibly about Velasco.
The most prudent elegy for Velasco would be continuing to smash shit up. And on tracks where they do-- the sweat-drenched "Chew It Like a Gun Gum" and "A Problem Is a Problem It Don't Matter Where You From"-- his spirit feels appropriately channeled. Credit producer and Baltimore club fixture XXXChange for giving these tracks bulkier production as well as livelier drums (a marked improvement over Worldwide's dinky beat programming).
But elsewhere the Death Set ignore their wilder instincts in favor of a more emotionally hefty, ruminative feel, which makes sense considering the circumstances. "I Miss You Beau Velasco" is an ethereal goth-pop track that's as dour and weirdly uplifting as an early Smashing Pumpkins tune, while "Can You See Straight?" retains a hard-charging velocity and still taps into something unexpectedly somber.
It's a shame Siera couldn't rein in the focus a little more, as the material in between these exciting (and sometimes touching) songs requires considerable patience. The in-jokes and throw-away interludes you can easily brush off; the life-affirming schmaltz ("It's Another Day"), dunderheaded pop punk ("Michel Pioccard Prefers the Old (She Yearns For the Devil)"), and phoned-in guest spots from Diplo and Spank Rock, however, are harder to ignore. For a band as unhinged and forcefully wacky as the Death Set, powering on in the face of tragedy can't be easy. When they do, the results can be great fun or surprisingly thoughtful. But do some quick math-- 17 tracks in 35 minutes with only a few keepers-- and Michel Poiccard comes up too short.
