In the late '60s and early '70s, the synthesizer was something novel, and often used in pop music to conjure up the sound of a sleek and gleaming technological future. All these years later, electronics have been around enough to sound clanky and fractured if need be, and the self-titled debut album from Oceans of the Moon is an inspired example of music from an alternate universe where a gang of aging sound-generating circuits have made their last stand in some forbidden silicon graveyard. Featuring Rick Pelletier (of Six ...
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In the late '60s and early '70s, the synthesizer was something novel, and often used in pop music to conjure up the sound of a sleek and gleaming technological future. All these years later, electronics have been around enough to sound clanky and fractured if need be, and the self-titled debut album from Oceans of the Moon is an inspired example of music from an alternate universe where a gang of aging sound-generating circuits have made their last stand in some forbidden silicon graveyard. Featuring Rick Pelletier (of Six Finger Satellite and La Machine) on guitar, keyboards, and vocals, Jon Loper on drums, and Dare Matheson on a synthesizer rig he could have rescued from a garage sale at Allen Ravenstine's house, Oceans of the Moon know how to make a groove when they feel like it (the R&B influences are faint but audible in Loper's drumming). But they also like to disassemble their rhythms and put the bits back together at random; tracks like "Sully" and "Borderline" are propulsive and exciting, but dancing to them will quickly point out the uneven spots on the surfaces. The melodies this trio brings forth are catchy but minimal, and the musicians take advantage of the empty spaces to fill them with lean, skronky guitar patterns and billows of sound that fit too well to be accidental but at the same time feel as spontaneous as a freak hailstorm. For all the low-budget machinery on board, there's a raw, bluesy temper in Pelletier's vocals that reminds us just how human these androids can be, and the songs are physical and to the point in a way that had more to do with punk rock than most electronic music, like a greasy teenage gang crashing the set of Forbidden Planet. At less than 30 minutes, Oceans of the Moon signs off while it still seems to be picking up momentum, but as an opening salvo from this budding band of space rock troublemakers, it's exciting stuff and makes you wonder if you should have been nicer to that Casio you threw in the dumpster a few years ago. ~ Mark Deming, Rovi
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