Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 05/05/08
Label: Wall Of Sound

Snatching the accolade of hardest working man in showbusiness from the somewhat more generic talents of Will.I.Am, "Replica Sun Machine" represents the fourth big hitting Danger Mouse production of recent months. And if such a Stakhanovite work ethic wasn't enough, the manner in which Brian Burton has gone about business has been singularly impressive; as with his knob-twiddling for Martina Topley Bird and The Black Keys, his is a sympathetic modus operandi - bringing out the singular characteristics in his charges, rather than suffocating them with jackhammer beats.

For a trio so indebted to the subtleties and craft of late '60s Californian songwriting - think Brian Wilson, Jimmy Webb, The United States Of America - and therefore in danger of sinking into retro fan worship, this is very much a good thing. And despite trainspotter contributions from John Cale and Van Dyke Parks, the resulting album remains futuristic, otherworldly and yet steeped in the golden glory of the past. From the off, opening track "Harmonica" necks a sugary red pill, applies some kaleidoscopic shades and jumps feet first down the rabbit hole. Against a drone of repetitious melody, Andrew Pettitt and Ulrika Bjorsne trade whispery, dreamlike lines about falling into dreams and smiles.

It's a stunning effective formula, and one instantly repeated on "Glitches 'n' Bugs", another feelgood hit of the summer that gets your finger drumming while simultaneously thinking of where-are-they-now NYC duo Joy Zipper. "Now 'Til 69", and "House Of Lies" are similarly straight-up Top Ten hits in the waiting and surely palatable enough for fans of Duffy or Coldplay. And in "No Social", with its cryptic chorus about looking down their nose at so and so's (and how a dog is still a dog, even if it's wearing clothes) they could have a genuine chart topper on their hands. Well, in a parallel lysergic universe.

Elsewhere, there is much for the more sonically conversant connoisseur, and moments aplenty where the Cale and Parks contributions become pleasingly apparent. "Replica" reprises those amazing drones once again, melding into a lush orchestral score, while the closing pair "Sun Machine" and "The Downer Song" take one final leap into the avant-garde. To take another - unfortunately retro - analogy, the latter has you picturing Micky Dolenz freefalling from the Golden Gate Bridge towards his porpoises and cult celluloid infamy. It's an enthralling and comforting trip, but that's the Shortwave Set all over - taking unfinished business from four decades back and applying a glossy, yet sympathetic finish.

    by Adam Webb