Probably the most wistful music you'll hear this year is on this debut album by Casino Versus Japan, which takes us back to the good old days when electronica wasn't afraid to be beautiful. Tracks like "The Possible Light" and "Summer Clip" have the same kind of warped grandiloquence as the Aphex Twin and Global Communications a decade ago: delicate melodic flakes magnified through a cosmic amplifier. On tracks like "Moonlupe", Vangelis is even brought to mind—and there's nothing illegal about that.
Tight script and fantastic acting from Rob Brydon, but what is the actual point of this much lauded two-hour divorcee monologue? In theory it's a comedy, but with not a single laugh in the entire series there's a very real danger for non-pseuds that its supposed greatness will completely pass you by. They won't be running repeats of this at Christmas next year, that's for sure.
Brought up on the same south London estate as the rampaging So Solid Crew, you might have expected Baz to have become a soul diva or a rap artist, like her sister Monie Love. Instead, under the direction of uber-producer Guy Sigsworth, she's chosen an unashamedly pop path. It would be unfair to call her a black Dido, even if several of the melodies would not have sounded out of place on No Angel. But a female version of Seal wouldn't be far wide of the mark.
He helped Audrey Tautou steal your heart in Amélie, and Tiersen, like that film, evokes the passing of French iconographies (Pernod, madeleines, poujadisme) and the culture's quiet assimilation of change, with or without accordions. The slyly sentimental, Nyman-leaning postmodernism of "A Quai" and "Bagatelle" absorbs genres from Rai to post-rock but remains uniquely French. Zazou and Eno, watch your arses.
