The world is in the midst of an electronic music renaissance, and you find most of this boon of producers laying claim to the club-friendly, bass-dropping variety, holing up in the the free-flowing world of hip-hop beatmaking or pitching their tent on the out-there, boundary-pushing EDM camp.
Broncho has never been hurting in the hook department. The success of the trio’s 2011 debut, Can’t Get Past the Lips, was predicated mostly on its ability to marry melodies with kinetic guitar riffs and anarchic energy. Yet we’ve heard nothing to the degree of pure pop catchiness on display in “Class Historian,” the new single from Broncho’s upcoming sophomore album, Just Enough Hip to Be Woman.
No one wants to be forgotten; everyone wants some sort of legacy, a mark they leave behind as they exit this life for whatever lies beyond.
And for as long as there has been death, there have been monuments — whether austere or understated, abstract or concrete, prominent or tucked away in private — erected by the ones they loved to assure that remembrance, at least for a time.
Some of the best albums and artists were born out of happy accidents owed to varying degrees of early suckage — the perfect note or chord for a song found by missing the one you are aiming for, failed mimicry of an idol bearing something entirely new and great instead.
Sunglassed, porcelain-skinned model:
“OK, so I’m supposed to be riding this motorcycle in front of a green
screen while a fan blows my luxurious hair back for nearly four minutes.
What’s my inspiration?”
Music video director with English accent: “Right, beau’iful, pretend it’s 1986 and airy synthesizers are back in fashion, just like that spotted dress you’re wearing. You’re first riding through a heavily industrial-looking city on your way out to the countryside, feeling sunshiney pleasure as you finally escape to the clean air. Lean forward and back on the motorcycle, unlike anybody who’s ever rode a motorcycle before. Oh! Now look with back just a hint of fear in your face to make sure nobody’s chasing you! All right, you’re safe now — except you’ve steered off the country road and into a swirling, three-dimensional world of black-and-white patterns that look like they belong in cartoons from the 1980s. Now you’re getting showered with confetti! And cut!”
Ernest Greene of Washed Out: “Now do it all again, but way more chill.”