Broadcast is an elusive tropical orchid obscured by olivine shrubs stealing the ecosystem’s sunlight; they had everything needed for cult recognition, but faced the inescapable, “wrong time, wrong place” clause. The expressive talent in the group’s work flourishes through chemically fusing their influences as though a magnify glass is needed to explore their stylistic heart. Without being psychedelic or hazy, Broadcast boldly layers their adapted sound in stark melodies jumping through hoops together. The Joy Division qualities are there, the Velvet Underground sound, the Stereolab, and The Focus Group, but all of which are so precisely refined, Broadcast stands as a rarity against its derivative roommates.
What’s so special about their pallet of influence? The
particular artists that are so beautifully reminiscent in their music juxtapose
as colors all belonging to a unifying aesthetics, but refrain from bringing the
same hues to the table. Joy Division adds a distinct production value, and
clarity. The Velvet Underground, notorious for bridging post-punk with the pleasant
baroque pop of the ‘60s, contrast the sinister with the playful, accumulating
as a foundation to the dark/joyful duplicity of Trish Keenan’s lyricism and gorgeously #retro #vintage voice.
The harmonic fluid piling on the ethic is delivered by Stereolab’s fusion of synth based
sounds in rock orientated songs while adding an entirely updated array of equipment.
With their high caliber technical ability, Broadcast manages to never abuse
their understanding, but play with it by dabbling in improvised sound
manipulation much like The Focus Group. The rainbow of melodic interplay feels
open to interpretations of synaesthesia. Broadcast are a band that truly match
their strengths with their name. A spectrum of dancing colors, a posh English
fashion designer, a rain puddle glowing with oil.
The band’s early discography that built the sound relatable
today started typically strong, and contains, what I feel, their strongest
release, Extended Play Two. It begins
with Illumination, an emotionally atmospheric cluster of synths guided by
gentle vocal overtones that lead into rest of the EP charmingly. Unchanging
Window, a track that reappears watered down on their full length album, The
Noise Made By People, enacts Broadcast’s very essence. Four minutes of strophic
whirling around breakneck percussion that intensifies into a controlled yet
spontaneous jam flurries into the next track. From this point, the popular mechanics continue to reoccur but are clouded magnificently in a dissonantly sharp
musicianship that can really only be encountered as an existing dynamic on this
collection of work alone. By Drums On Fire, the krautrock arrangements
relentlessly die with the very ending of the sound. Short in length, and
massive in mesmerizing content, should be FUCKING listened by
you, if you even like music.
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