. issue XXIV : v .
Galerie Stratique’s PR calls them “awkward” — and truth is stranger than fiction. This wonky, egregious album draws on all those teeter-tot-toddler memories of music boxes, serial themes and ice cream trucks. In chipper bright bleeps it screams lite brite and silly putty. But don’t hold back; it’s not below you; their PR also claims, slyly, that “repeated listening reveals not only some nuances and subtleties, but the possibility of a serious dependency.” I couldn’t agree more, and you can too — the record is free to download on No Type. Point d’Orgue, which means “climax” or “pause” in French — two concepts interestingly conflated — is one of the most spectacular things I’ve ever heard. It makes its emotions bigger, as one speaking to a child, and so it is that we have utterly out-of-proportion five-minute-mysteries-organ and the mincing music of spooky television funk. Though it’s a teeny blip of an EP, at 19-and-a-half minutes, Point d’Orgue cuts right to the kitsch, and more incisively than anything I’ve ever heard.