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| EDITORIAL:
MUSIC No Need to Go with Them Chemical Brothers' 'Push the Button' is mostly a miss
ALBUM REVIEW The Chemical Brothers
The Chemical Brothers' multi-genre sound sits squarely along the border of bombastic splendor and overblown dissonance. When their music reaches into the latter territory – which, unfortunately, happens with each successive album – listener reaction (at least this listener) can be swift and visceral: You rise from your comfortable resting position, throw your hands in the air and pace the floor – behaviors borne out of frustration and exasperation. It's frustrating that UK lads Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons, true electronica pioneers, aren't the consistently compelling artists who made 1995's "Exit Planet Dust" and 1997's "Dig Your Own Hole." Those albums ushered in the Big Beat era, in which the pair fused rock, funk, hip-hop and dance music and gave the world such songs as "Block Rockin' Beats" and "Setting Sun." These days, with the same sonic template intact (albeit helped by their finely honed DJ-producer skills), what passes for a Chemical Brothers album are egregiously empty, soulless songs and only occasional flashes of brilliance. They're a dynamic duo with past glory and credibility to spare, but now, seemingly stagnant. If the million-dollar question is "What have you done for me lately?", then the new "Push the Button" (in stores Tuesday), is a two-bit response at best that won't silence naysaying, and likely prompts more questions. The button Rowlands and Simons push on half of these 11 tracks is the hot button that ignites that same throwing up of arms and pacing of floor. This is particularly true of "Galvanize," the album's first track and its lead single, featuring A Tribe Called Quest's ace rapper, Q-Tip. His trademark nasal flow drowns in a six-minute, muddled mess of faux-apocalyptic sonics marked by cheesy strings and frenzied drum-machine washes. Don't hold back / the world is holdin' back / the time has come to galvanize, he repeats. It's little more than an overproduced "message" track reminiscent of the earnest, overwrought horror that was "It Began in Afrika" from 2002's equally mediocre "Come With Us" album. It's also a dubious way for hip-hop royalty like Q-Tip to join the Chemical Brothers' guest alumni, which includes such notables as Beth Orton, New Order's Bernard Sumner and Oasis' Noel Gallagher. Rowlands and Simons fail to hit their stride later on "Left Right," the album's other obvious hip-hop take. Usually, for inspiration, they're content to tap their deep reservoir of respect for Public Enemy's Bomb Squad production team. However, the skittish, jittery groove here seems like a coerced contribution to the crunk 'n' disorderly set, complete with mismatched, secondhand No Limit beats from a Master P garage sale. It's as if Rowland and Simons tear their own house down only to build it back up, because once "Galvanize" and "Left Right" have passed, and triflings like "The Boxer" and "The Big Jump" fade into deserved obscurity, the worst is over, and those trademark flashes of brilliance appear. A measure of faith is restored when the DJ-set/mixtape aesthetic kicks into gear. "Believe," with the industrial tenor of a Renegade Soundwave laced with a hint of Nitzer Ebb, seamlessly blends into the beautiful, psychedelic guitar-meets-trance flavor of "Hold Tight London," which eases into the punchy "Come Inside." At that point, there's finally a rhythmic energy accompanied by purposeful sonic builds and effects. Lyrically, the album offers little beyond nonspecific mantras and verbal punctuations. A more conventional, fleshed-out songwriting venture is the gentle "Close Your Eyes," a downtempo track featuring Brit quartet the Magic Numbers on vocals, melodically cruising over subtle Eastern underground rhythms. Eventually, the Chemical Brothers' creative switch clicks "on." It's not a question of too little, too late, but rather: Is just enough of their best really enough anymore?
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