November 20, 2002

The fifth album from London trio Add N to (X) comes on like punk on a nasty synthetic speedball, kicking off with what sounds like an electro cover of the Stranglers' "Peaches" ("Total All Out Water") and "Sheez Mine," where Sex Pistols-esque vocals are laid over a quirky 2-step beat that is equal parts Le Tigre and "Rock Lobster"-era B-52's. But by the fourth track – "Invasion of the Polaroid People," complete with voice-over by producer-cult figure Kim Fowley – Add N to (X) settle into familiar surroundings (at least for them) mining the retro-'60s-sci-fi-meets-modern-day-machine aesthetic they have stuck to since their 1998 Mute debut, On the Wires of Our Nerves.

Loud like Nature could be the soundtrack to a contemporary adaptation of Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Bleeping alien bass and pastoral synths hover above squelching Moog and industrial-powered bottom, with vocals acting as an eerie background element for Add N to (X)'s overall outer-space symphony. The manic synth punk of "Large Numbers" would make good theme music for an intergalactic chase scene, while the ethereal, Aphex Twinish echoes of "Pink Light" sound like nothing more than a blasting off into the mental stratosphere on a couple of high-grade Soma.

Whether serving up clinky proto-drum 'n' bass ("Lick a Battery"), squelching waves of machine-made surf guitar ("- U Baby"), or protean lounge-hop ("Up the Punks"), Add N to (X) keep the focus on experimenting with sound rather than samples, tuning their vintage electronic gear to otherworldly frequencies and wailing away. Loud like Nature reminds one more of punk experimentalists such as Suicide or Can than the current crop of new wave-themed electro artists, but the three keep up a pop sensibility that doesn't discount the possibility of a dance floor. Not like nature at all, but most definitely loud. Add N to (X) play with Soviet and Tussle, Fri/22, Bottom of the Hill, S.F. (415) 621-4455. (Vivian Host)

Various artists
California Soul (Luv N' Haight)

The battle for soul superiority has traditionally taken place east of the Rockies – cities such as Chicago, Dayton, Detroit, Memphis, and New Orleans have long dominated the rhythm and blues debate. But the new California Soul compilation tips your ear back west. Rescuing 14 songs by long-forgotten artists, the disc resurrects some of the best slices of soul you never heard.

One of the album's inherent strengths is its diversity – a trademark of Luv N' Haight's decade-old compilation series. There's the epic, Afro-funkalistic "A Real Thing," courtesy of Oakland's spiritual-minded Sons and Daughters of Life, and the whimsical, vibe-laden dance cut "Wobble-Cha," by San Francisco's Benny Velarde. The best Bay Area song, though, is San Francisco artist Courtial's "Losing You," a 1976 soul slammer brimming with an urgent, infectious energy.

Out of Los Angeles are the West Coast Revival and their ridiculously funky cover of Joe Cocker's "Feelin' Alright," and legendary studio drummer Roy Porter, who blisters through the breakbeats on the jazz-juiced "Party Time." The comp's centerpiece is Mike James Kirkland's "Hang On in There," the title cut from one of two obscure albums he made in the '70s. "Hang On" is Kirland's own social anthem, urging his downtrodden brethren to persevere, arguing, "Maybe the world / Ain't what it could be / But to understand why / Is to know reality." Kirkland's music is a swelling tide of bass lines and strings, splashed with bells and keys. At nine minutes long, "Hang On" is a journey as much as a song, buoying you with its uplifting message and its gentle groove as Kirkland carries you into another perfect California sunset. (Oliver Wang)

Ladytron
Light and Magic (Emperor Norton)

It's par for the discourse surrounding today's '80s revival to describe Ladytron as embodying a chilly future envisioned two decades ago by a generation coming to terms with the technological unknown. The retro-futuristic flaw in Ladytron's neo-new wave world, of course, is that Gary Numan and Kraftwerk, et al, translated the same robo-paranoia into a synth pop framework long before the current class of 'clashers voted emotional detachment and nu-Neu! blips and bleeps the most fashionable dance-floor accessories. Championing Ladytron as the sound of 1981's impending cold and impersonal computer age, then, is just a polite way of saying the group does a bang-up job reproducing its influences.

The Liverpool-based group's second LP, Light and Magic, is one hell of an imitation of life, too. Over Daniel Hunt and Reuben Wu's electrodrones and analog groans, Helena Marnie and Mira Aroyo sing-speak about rejection and isolation with such stubborn disaffection that it's difficult to believe they've actually experienced anything more tasking than a particularly demanding ScanDisk session. "8-1-5-9-3-4 / Does this mean you don't trust me anymore?" they deadpan early on the disc, stylishly replacing emotions with numeric variables.

Which is the very problem with Light and Magic. Contrary to how Ladytron imagines its existence, livin' la vida robot isn't all that exciting: without the slightest hint of humanity laid to tape, the album's 15 trax feel like flow charts and mathematical equations that always come up with the same results. Numbingly predictable, the album ultimately falls flat by refusing to deviate from the electro-chilly formulas the group fine-tuned on last year's 604. In the end, the album's cold calculation adds up to little more than just another trip back to the retro-future. Ladytron's Reuben Wu spins Fri/22, Cat Club, S.F. (415) 431-3332. (Jimmy Draper)

Out Hud
Street Dad (Kranky)

Street Dad reveals Out Hud to be a far different beast from its sister act, the dance-funk troupe !!!. Despite some throbbing bass lines, the Sacramento-raised, now Brooklyn-based Out Hud don't get very funky, just restless and atmospheric, and the album title is deceiving: there's no slang-filled vocals tossed about, just long instrumentals (the longest track, "The L Train," lasts 12 minutes) that take unexpected turns into new musical genres. Perhaps the album's true title isn't Street Dad but Trendy Dad.

The quintet take on different instruments for different tracks: Phyllis Forbes plays drums on three songs, bass on two others, and guitar on "My Two Nads (Dad Reprise)." Tyler Pope's cold guitar playing waxes and wanes, partly out of homage to the '80s, partly to gird itself against a pastiche of extraneous sounds thrown out by the rest of Out Hud. There's the robotic keyboard loops Molly Schnick and Nic Offer layer on "Hair Dude, You're Stepping on My Mystique" and, most effectively, the progressive house strains that close out "The L Train Is a Swell Train and I Don't Want to Hear You Indies Complain." The results, which engineer Justin Vandervolgen tweaks out into an echoing dub, sonically replicate the eccentric collage of drawings, name tags, and photographs splattered across the album cover.