(((O))) : Stereolab – Instant Holograms On Metal Film

When Stereolab got back together in 2019 to play a few shows in support of their reissued back catalogue it seemed a logical but limited interlude. Play the old songs, have a bit of fun, sell some records, give younger fans a chance to see the groop live. I shrugged, I absolutely adore Stereolab but it seemed an uncharacteristically commercial move, a short term adventure more than a full blooded reactivation. Possibly they felt that way themselves to begin with, but the tours went well, they kept on playing, put out a couple more editions of their Switched On collections and now there’s a new record. Instant Holograms On Metal Film is their first new material in fifteen years.

Time spent touring the old stuff has put them fully back inside what it is to be Stereolab and the album feels strong in holding to their identity without simply retreading their past. Of course the past is ever present, fractured through a kaleidoscope of earlier styles and sounds, vintage synths, 60s french pop, library music, kosmiche, lounge and jazz forever recombining in new patterns. ‘Mystical Plosives’ is a short intro piece of bubbling synth, like something from an old science show for schools. Wiping the slate and pulling focus, welcoming us back to the lab. Here the surfaces are like new, made of old materials and textures but with no wear, grit or scoring. An extraordinary patchwork of sounds set out with the bold geometry and clear, bright, colour palette of their artwork.

The familiar bounce of lead track ‘Aerial Troubles’ blends choppy rhythms, overlapping vocals, and phasing elastic synth with lyrics about the crumbling spectacle of the old world, and looking hopefully to the new “While offering antenatal care for the inception, Of the new yet undefined future”. ‘Melodie Is a Wound’ bemoans the manipulation of discourse by power and the death of truth but while its general assessment is that things are clearly terrible right now there is a lot of optimism in the album. A stand out track ‘Melodie Is a Wound’ moves with a bright swing, having said its piece about media it hits an odd skittering breakdown, a back and forth between the guitar and a thick blunt keyboard sound until some ragged sax blares in dissolving everything, only for it to re-emerge, different again, slowly accelerating into the night.

The arrangements are in a state of constant flux, there always seem to be multiple parts happening but done with a real lightness. It never feels clogged or overdone. Several songs seem to change on a whim, ‘Immortal Hands’ switches at the mid point to a kind of library music funk, but there’s also easy listening strings and jazz flute. An ever revolving textural feast, it spins between elements often neglecting to combine them or build to a satisfying resolution. The second half of ‘Transmuted Matter’ becomes frustratingly frothy and delicate, like an elaborate patisserie confection. At the more direct end ‘Electrified Teenybop!’ is a frantic instrumental that sticks to its groove, the descriptive title suggesting a library cut with sleeve notes remarking on its ‘percolating rhythms’. 

‘Veromina F Transistor’ has perhaps kept its working title from the same audio magazine as the album but it is one of their more orderly pop songs. A twinkling opening becomes a synth stomp as Laetitia examines and rejects old narratives. In a moment of empowerment the drum cracks open a bright strumming chorus as she declares “I’m the creator of this reality…” like she’s strolling through Montmartre in spring, the street bursting to life at her command. As she shimmies out of sight it drops into a locked groove, as if the magic is only in her orbit, “waltzing the light within”.  

Hope runs through the record, sensing the current crisis as a moment of possibility it touches regularly on self care and the importance of our connection to others, it’s final line asking us “To choose courage, to heal”. While many of the songs have two or more sections, this last one ‘If You Remember I Forgot How To Dream pt2’ is split in half, possibly as a formal manifestation of the sentiment in pt1 “It’s because I am you, it’s because you are me, two halves of one”.

If you didn’t already love Stereolab then maybe Instant Holograms On Metal Film is unlikely to win you over to the cause, they still sound like the same band. Among long term fans it’s the later records that often divide opinion, this new one seems a little more focussed, easier to love. Maybe it’s just that they’ve been away but it’s good to have them back.