If anything exemplifies Daft Punk's ascension to both commercially viable template and honest-to-god artistic inspiration, it's Squarepusher chiming in with his take on the robots' sound. Put simply, it's hard to imagine Shobaleader One: D'demonstrator existing without Daft Punk and the generation of French producers the duo inspired. If the album's not a wholesale rip-off of DP's aesthetic-- there's a little too much of Squarepusher's fidgety programming and fusion-esque bass acrobatics for that-- then it certainly feels like a very thorough homage in places. From sound (vocoder-dependent disco-soul with occasional moments of robot-rocking out) to image (robot masks, though paired with Sunn O)))'s druid robes), this record owes monsieurs Banglater and de Homem-Christo at least a nod of respect.
Or who knows, maybe Tom "Squarepusher" Jenkinson grew up listening to the same records as DP and just got around to making this album after a couple-dozen creative detours. (Smooth 1970s jazz isn't a million miles off from the soft-rock schlock DP transmuted on Discovery, after all.) But Jenkinson has never been shy about grabbing whatever sounds are in the cultural air and abusing them for his own ends. (See for example the entirety of his early career as breakbeat culture's supposed enfant terrible.) Sometimes this shameless snatching from other artists/genres has led to some thrilling perversions of hot trends, as with his earliest jungle-biting broadsides or 2001's UK garage nose-tweak "My Red Hot Car". Unlike those amped-up records, though, Shobaleader One just sounds lifeless. There's little thrilling, or perverse, about it, as if Jenkinson wanted to make a French pop-dance record without fully embracing the airy funk or noisy bombast that makes the Gallic innovators' music fun.
Squarepusher's usual bass frippery becomes sluggish when slowed down to a synth-pop pace-- too much "virtuosity," not enough boogie. And when Jenkinson takes on the brutal low-end cut-ups of the Ed Banger label, the results are a little too restrained to stand up. French house and synthetic R&B at Squarepusher's usual frantic tempos might have been enjoyably wacky enough for a few spins, but for some reason Jenkinson decided to play it straight, with very mixed results. Shobaleader One's not tuneful enough to pass for pop, not funky enough to satisfy a club, and lacks the wildstyle (if sometimes infuriating) excess of Squarepusher's other records. Whether hard or soft, there's nothing here that you can't hear executed with more joie de vivre by a half-dozen Frenchmen.
