The Spaniards have fully adopted the synths and drum machines they once used sparingly.
Charles Ubaghs 2010-06-16
With half of Brooklyn now throwing shapes like Ibiza circa 1995, it’s not surprising that the four men who make up Delorean have been readily embraced by the New York borough’s blogger-friendly music scene. They’ve gained a slow-burning status over the past few years for churning out indie dance tunes with a decidedly Balearic sheen, and they have the added good fortune of actually hailing from Spain.
Subiza, the band’s third studio LP, should leave their increasingly sterling reputation untouched among the growing hordes of tightly trousered glowstick wavers they count as their fans. Named after the Spanish town they record it in, it finds Delorean completing an evolutionary process that began with the release of their self-titled 2004 debut. Having begun life as a straightforward indie group, they slowly injected dance elements into the mix, with the pumping breakbeats and guitars of 2009’s Ayrton Senna EP finally thrusting them into the international spotlight. Now, with Subiza, Delorean have fully adopted the synths and drum machines they once only used to augment their otherwise live band sound.
Sound like a familiar story? It is. Animal Collective pulled off a similar feat recently with their lauded Merriweather Post Pavillion. Subiza opener Stay Close even sounds like Animal Collective, if they toned down their experimental side and took a stab at crafting anthemic, mid-90s piano house. It’s a trick they later repeat with the choirboy vocals and electric, tribal drumbeats showcased on Infinite Desert. Endless Sunset takes the basic template of New Order’s All Day Long and slathers it in the hazy reverb favoured by Washed Out and Memory Tapes, two leading lights of the nostalgia loving glo-fi scene.
If you’re starting to suspect that Subiza is less of a full-on dance album than some would like to argue, then you’re right. Brush away Subiza’s trance pianos and machine booms and you’ll find the heart of an indie pop band beating away at its centre, one that pumps to a rhythm that should feel warmly familiar to fans of Cut Copy and Friendly Fires.
But for all the barbs that could arguably be lobbed at Delorean for wheeling out another variation of the near terminally exhausted formula, they sidestep any fatal criticisms by applying a hefty dose of summer exuberance to their White Isle pop that’s near impossible to deny.