Laurent Garnier - The Cloud Making Machine
Do you know any people like this? “I hate synthesizers. I only like music played by real instruments.” “Real” instruments indeed. You should forgive such people. After all, in high school, I used to have this “I only listen to classic rock” attitude too. Then I heard Aphex Twin, and even though it was that computer music that I found so unclean, I decided it was O.K. Computer music that was fully compartmentalized and didn’t try to imitate the “real” instruments was O.K. Let’s face it: most of the time when you blend the computer world and the real world, the results are disastrous. I mean, you don’t like soap opera synths either, I hope. Well, this album has changed my mind again. Laurent Garnier’s The Cloud Making Machine has succeeded in blending “real” instruments with computer wizardry without big-time suckage. In fact, this album is good.
Although every track is completely different, Garnier succeeds in creating a separate world for this his 4th album. True, the subject matter swings all over the place: the odd retro futurism cover art heavily resembles Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (a movie made in the 20’s describing the future as involving a lot of robots and showbiz numbers). “(I Wanna Be) Waiting for my Plane” is a portrait of a man who wants to erase his mind in addiction. “Jeux D’enfants” heavily samples French school children playing, laughing, and crying. In “First Reaction (V2)”, a man recounts a horrible dream in which a protest turns into a bloodbath. Even though Garnier’s scope is so large and even though the array of emotions he presents us is so wide, the overall impact of the album is very unified. Garnier seems to be exploring the tragedy inherent in human nature. Perhaps a secondary theme is that sci-fi mainstay of humans vs. machines.
When the journey begins, we know that it’s going to be epic. The first track features heavily echoing voice samples which slowly relate the following: “Traveling / the images keeps coming back / so restless / all the rest is abstract … just dreaming.” Meanwhile, hushed computer choirs wait in expectation, studio hiss weaves in and out, and weird keyboard noodling gives us a feeling that something big is going to happen. Then the flagship track, “9.01-9:06,” kicks in. Supported by raw cello chords, distorted glitches, and computer game synths that waver on their sustains, we can almost see the earth slowly rise over the moon’s horizon in classic 8 bit graphics. This track really rocks, in a weird, alien jazz parlor sort of way. Similarly, “Barbiturk Blues” also gives off a slightly lounge atmosphere, populated congruously by enormous sampled beats, all metallic and hollow, and by keyboards you’d expect to hear in an expensive andcheesy New York City bar.
Garnier has by now proven that he’s exceptional at creating his own moods. He successfully warps around the globe, delivering us little pieces of life in the universe. In a veritable melting pot of genres, Garnier not only navigates from one mood to the next, but also creates postmodern amalgamations of sound. The mournful piano and Spanish acoustic guitar suddenly give way to the bracing entrance of Sangoma Everett’s wailing vocals. The listener is suddenly hearing the blues of the entire earth laid bare. But the computers strike back. A distorted, menacing overdub dominates the faux-club “Controlling the House Pt. 2”. Likewise, the disturbing “(I Wanna Be) Waiting for My Plane” is very reminiscent of Moby’s synth-punk circa Animal Rights.
While some of this album is dark and creepy, on the whole we come away feeling that something grand and mysterious has happened. Garnier’s story, although vague, is definitely worth hearing.
