by Hayden Merrick (@HaydenMerrick96)
Since going on hiatus in 2009 and passing the drone-pop torch to Peel Dream Magazine and Dummy, Stereolab’s output has remained prolific. After remastering, expanding, and re-releasing most of their back catalog, they proffer the fourth entry in the Switched On series, a sprawling omnium-gatherum of rarities and offcuts recorded between 1999 and 2008.
Stereolab’s non-album tracks have always been among its best work, attested by “Lo Boob Oscillator,” “John Cage Bubblegum,” and “French Disko.” Unlike previous compilations, though, Electrically Possessed doesn’t have a concise pop gem of this caliber. Rather than a sign of lackluster writing or waning creativity in the autumn of the groop’s career, this instead illustrates the creative excess of their ‘90s output. Regardless, Electrically Possessed is full of agreeable eccentricity: buoyant beats and blubbering synthesizers; enchanting vocal utterances and bass lines that fit together like Sudoku puzzles.
“Outer Bongolia” is the cacophonous overture—interlocking mallets, fists of trumping brass, wah-wah guitar hisses, argumentative synthesizers. Every instrument is vying for dominance. This is an instrumental piece, though; when Laetitia Sadier’s beguiling vocals are present, everything else falls in line, malleable under her guiding hand. On “Intervals,” for example, her voice floats up and up and down, like a warm-up exercise, or as though she is audibly tracing the outside lines of a large painting. The marimba and synth countermelodies do not overcrowd her but keep their distance, filling the gaps.
The wordless, pulsating vocal on “I Feel The Air {Of Another Planet}” sounds like Sadier is gasping for air, using her breath to propel her back to orbit. The music often evokes interstellar transience, concurrently enveloping and insular. On “Retrograde Mirror Form,” Sadier repeats, “Fous moi la paix” (French for “leave me alone”), warding off unwelcome visitors with the song’s esoteric 9/8 time signature and woodblock circlets. The minimalist motorik rhythm that opens “Pandora’s Box Of Worms” builds to nowhere, dissipating into unfocused open chords and scattered percussion, like watching a rocket ship take off then fade from view as the onlookers disperse.
Fair-weather fans and acquaintances may ask who in 2021 has time to listen to an almost two-hour-long Stereolab rarities collection. To them I say, “Fous moi la paix.” Stereolab gives a guided tour through a laboratory of disparate genres and random noise bursts that percolate along conveyor belts. Saying no to the free samples would be a mistake.