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Soulwax
@ Bristol Fleece & Firkin (NME 4 November 2000)
"Hey,
You're looking real cool. Great hair. Why don't we split this
joint and... oh, right, you've got an essay to do...
Okay,
so the suave, sharp-suited style of Soulwax may seem a little
at odds with this venue's post-Fresher's Week scruffiness.Conceptually,
they're far more suited to playing some mythical Las Vegas
drinking den, Prince in one corner, Dino in the other, both
tipping expensive cocktails to this sleazerock soul revue.
Crucially,
though, these Belgians attack like that's exactly where we
are. And they do it without a glimmer of irony, or face-saving
goofiness, or any concession to reality which might widen
the gap between their fantasy and the beery, hairslide truth
of the situation. Like Crosby, Stills & Nash to Beck's Neil
Young, Soulwax, with their handsome tailoring, kitsch strobe-light
mic stands, and old-skool dance moves, could be dismissed
as mere role-players, were it not for the feeling that the
make-up is never removed.
So
they get away with it. With ushering in new number 'What Now'
with crunchy electro breaks, before Yank rawk guitars overwhelm
us. With David Dewaele's Kershaw-tastic Casio guitar, on which
he picks out Darth Vader's theme before a rendition of Prince's
'Pop Life'. With David again doing human beatbox like he's
alone in his bedroom karaoke-ing over old LL Cool J records.
Such
retro-futurist tactics can often serve to distract us from
the fact that their sound loses some of its subtlety in transition
from CD to stage. When they use this to their advantage, as
on the raging guitar overload of 'My Cruel Joke', it's a case
of fuck the complex pre-programmed drum flickers and turn
up the amps. But the same approach on soul ballad 'When Logics
Die' renders it bloated and clodhopping where it should be
light and groovy.
Sensing this, Soulwax concentrate on the heavy stuff. The
close,'Too Many DJs', sees Stephen bent double, face red,
bawling into the mic. Like his band, he means it. He really
means it."
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