Hello! This is “No Skips,” a column where I go over records that have, as the title suggests, no skips — at least in my opinion. Music fans galore would likely agree on this pick from Stereolab’s discography: “Dots and Loops.” Released 27 years ago, I unfortunately and knowingly missed the album’s anniversary last month, yet its recurrence in my nearly 10,000-song playlist has been calling my name.
I’m infatuated with French music as a whole, but this sounds nothing like your typical 20th century French pop music. The album actually wasn’t recorded in France, and lead vocalist Lætitia Sadier alternates songs singing between English and French. The album’s musical styles are varied, but can be summarized in the broad term of art pop. Furthermore, there are surprises and turns at multiple points during the record, so I guess I can warn you there are spoilers ahead!
I could reiterate it with other instances on this album, but the opening track encapsulates the juxtaposition between Sadier’s lyrics and the musical backdrop. “Brakhage,” after some strange noises, begins with this statement: “We need so damn many things / To keep our dazed lives going.” Backed by a gentle vibraphone melody and the pleasant voices of Sadier and another vocalist shadowing her, one wouldn’t expect a track with those lyrics to sound so jubilant.
“Miss Modular” is a much brassier song, and while I can’t understand the lyrics, French is a beautiful language and arguably works better on this song’s soundscape than English. They are also considered a rock band on Wikipedia, which would be a major stretch if not for the unusually quiet electric guitar on here.
My relative lack of knowledge of their complete line of albums doesn’t deter me from naming “The Flower Called Nowhere” as their definitive song. An airy and breezy atmosphere mixed with a fair share of vocal and non-vocal passages compels me to claim that if you take nothing else away from this review, listen to this song.
“Diagonals” borrows the best parts from previous songs: the brass and percussion (particularly the drums and marimba) and blends them both for a wonderful tune. The marimba bounces around the left and right audio channels at the beginning and end of the song while woodwinds assist in building up this cherished track.
“Prisoner of Mars,” which — people, get this to one million plays on Spotify, please — is a banger like any other. I bring that up since songs on an album with a dip in play count are usually interludes or skits, yet this one is fully fleshed out, placed in the middle of the record, follows the previous song (which bolsters six million plays) and is certainly not a skip-worthy track.
Following the string-oriented “Rainbo Conversation,” inspired by bossa nova, the 17-minute epic, “Refractions in the Plastic Pulse,” hits the ears. I would’ve made a big deal out of the length if I hadn’t already explained how a song of this scope can be thoroughly amazing, as in the case of “Cop Shoot Cop” by Spiritualized. It certainly takes its time in the first five minutes before picking up in tempo, but no two minutes are the same here. Although the album was partially recorded in Düsseldorf, “Refractions in the Plastic Pulse” was recorded in Chicago. Regardless, there’s an undeniable Kraftwerk influence here, a band from the aforementioned German city. I would likely skip this song in a playlist, though during a full listen, I wouldn’t mind it.
The lyrically sparse “Parsec” is all about vibes, as there are only six unique lines. Still, its five minutes of runtime are a fun time. “Ticker-tape of the Unconscious” is sparse in general, though it’s in English, so there are crazy lines such as, “Each memory is a mixture of excrement and honey,” whatever that means. The combination of this and the repetition of “potpourri” reminds me of those obnoxious Poo-Pourri advertisements from a few years ago. If you know, you know.
The nine-minute “Contronatura” may be the most mellow song here — perhaps with potential for addition to a sleep playlist. The instrumental passages are almost ambient in nature until they transition into a bop of an outro five and a half minutes in. While I can understand someone thinking “Dots and Loops” drags on for too long, moments like these throughout the 65 minutes make the record feel fresh at every corner.
Their album covers during this era also evoke a certain feeling of nostalgia that a young person may feel when watching gameplay of the original “Pong;” feeling far removed yet attached to it. Considering that timeframe, the font used on the cover for “Dots and Loops” was from 1972 according to fontsinuse.com, while the graphic design on their previous album, “Emperor Tomato Ketchup,” uses colors and patterns that look even more dated.
Even in sections where the vast amount of sound is overwhelming, like in “The Flower Called Nowhere,” the music is warm and enveloping, not distressing. It’s an easy listen; turn on your stereo and hop in the lab!