From Amazon.com
Snatching cohesion from the jaws of chaos can't be as easy as Andi Toma and Jan St. Werner of Mouse on Mars make it sound. Their weirdly off-kilter brand of skittery, IDM song craft always depends on uncommonly interesting melodies, even while those melodies swim in digitized madness. It's a trait that also shows up with a vengeance in Werner's other band, Microstoria (with Oval's Markus Popp). Most shockingly, with their recent work, Werner's penchant for tuneful warmth and relentless experimentation have led the band to--get this--use
actual instruments. Their last proper full-length,
Niun Niggung (the late 2000 release
Instrumentals was originally released on vinyl in 1997) included ever-so-slight leans toward more acoustic instrumentation, and the music here continues to bring in occasional bits of French horns, clarinets, even the odd guitar chord. "The Illking," for instance, contains only the barest electronic tidbits amid the lazy lull of a lush string section. Still, the flipped-out drill & bass of songs like "First: Break" go the opposite direction, dissolving and re-emerging in Squarepusher-esque bursts of computerized sonics. Along the way, there are avant-garde-ish oddities like "Unity Concepts" and the hyped-up beat salad of "Doit," which sounds like carnival music as performed by malfunctioning robots. When all the pieces come together for Mouse on Mars like they do on this release, it's a peculiar musical beast, but one that's still absolutely lovable.
--Matthew Cooke
Chronique amazon.fr
Pour paraphraser le titre d'un de leurs disques précédents, les albums de Mouse On Mars sont, tous sans exception, beaux comme des "caches coeurs naïfs". Cultivant la subtilité des mélodies, sans faire l'impasse sur l'expérimentation, revendiquant une culture qui irait de la pop raffinée au nec plus ultra des musiques électroniques avant-gardistes, le duo allemand formé de Jan St Werner et Andi Toma, qui n'est pas sans s évoquer un croisement entre Stereolab et Microstoria, signe avec
Idiology son cinquième opus depuis le séminal
Vulvaland. Entre les abstractions angulaires contemporaines et autres rondeurs aux courbes douces et alanguies, F.X. Randomitz et Matthew Herbert viennent prêter main forte en déposant des accords de piano ou en programmant quelques grésillements, tandis qu'un batteur, qui par ailleurs chante, apporte le soubassement rythmique pulsatile et quasi organique qui ramène l'ensemble vers le kraut hypnotique typique des années 70 des pionniers Can.
--Hervé Comte