Stereolab : Instant Holograms on Metal Film
Stereolab spent the better part of two decades reshaping their pleasantly pliable and mellifluous indie pop, but in the beginning, at least, things were much simpler. The noise pop songs on their debut album Peng! and singles collected on the early compilation Switched On comprised one-note drones played on buzzing Farfisa organ over hypnotic Neu!- and Velvet Underground-informed pulses. They didn’t stay there for long, easing up on the monotone psychedelia for exotica pop daydreams, transitioning into extended “Halleluwah” grooves, and ascending into post-rock jungle bossa nova and Technicolor Dave Brubeck pop. Every Stereolab album further blurs the lines between the disparate elements of their ever-evolving crate-digger pop, yet each of their records is unmistakably their own, a kaleidoscopic vision of impeccable taste capped with the bilingual coo of their longtime vocalist, Laetitia Sadier.
Instant Holograms on Metal Film, the first Stereolab album in 15 years, unsurprisingly sounds like nobody but Stereolab. And yet that target has moved even farther during their absence, suggesting that they’ve bookmarked their place on their ever-expanding sonic continuum. The bright pop-art colors and typography on the album’s cover suggest the group’s aesthetic remains intact, as does their playfully disorienting John Cage bubblegum titling taxonomy (“Esemplastic Creeping Eruption,” “Mystical Plosives,” “Electrified Teenybop!”). But it really only takes one listen to the first single, “Aerial Troubles”—its swinging motorik lounge-pop with all surfaces covered in requisite velvet and polyester—to reach the inevitable conclusion: Yes indeed, Stereolab is back.
Engineered by Cooper Crain of Chicago’s Bitchin Bajas, a band that doesn’t necessarily sound that much like Stereolab but have similarly impeccable tastes, Instant Holograms on Metal Film courts both the novel and the nostalgic, both in terms of the band’s well curated backlog of influences and the scope of their ample and excellent back catalog. A song like “Melodie is a Wound” is mellifluous and intoxicating, employing a lush soundscapes as a backdrop for social commentary: “Is there some form of justice possible or/So long: Public’s right to know the truth?” Yet even as a signature piece of prime Stereolab, it harbors its share of surprises, extending past the 7-minute mark on an extended jam. The light-footed funk of “Transmuted Matter,” meanwhile, harbors a twinkling vibraphone backing for an almost ASMR-like sense of aural euphoria.
What’s familiar here is never a retread, however, and more often than not the “groop” explores terrain they’ve scarcely traversed, such as on the darkly minimalist samba of “La Coeur et La Force,” a song that seems to nod to lounge-new wave pioneers Antena, a precursor of Stereolab’s own sound. And “Electrified Teenybop!” earns its exclamation point with bubbly and bright synth arpeggios, instantly one of the most giddily fun offerings in the band’s catalog. Moments like “Aerial Troubles” remind us why we love Stereolab in the first place, but those such as “La Coeur,” or the surprise dose of anger in “Melodie is a Wound,” are why they endure. Theirs is a project that’s never finished, and they’ve returned to ensure it remains that way.
Label: Warp/Duophonic
Year: 2025
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Stereolab : Instant Holograms on Metal Film
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