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| Autolux released its debut, Future Perfect, in 2004 |
The guy who penned the simultaneously mundane and quirky opening line, "Say hello to the rug's topography," to Failure's "The Nurse Who Loved Me" pulled me over to Autolux. In the time after the space rockers -- Failure hate that description -- called it quits in 1997, all I really wanted to soothe my soul was something that approximated or expanded on 1996's Fantastic Planet. [The group's masterpiece remains the criminally underappreciated.]
It is, of course, folly to wish for things that don't really need to be repeated or copied anyway. But in the absence of something like Fantastic Planet, I did what a lot of folks do: I followed the band members on to their next projects.
Ken Andrews went on to do some solo stuff under the moniker, On (2000), and started Year of the Rabbit (2003). Those were both fun, but they did little to sate my desire for something else. Andrews also donned a producers hat, working on Blinker the Star's 1999 record, August Everywhere. And while I still have a soft spot in my heart for that album, Fantastic Planet (or Fantastic Planet-like) it is not.
Neither is Autolux.
And that's entirely beside the point. Because in following Edwards to the LA trio and stumbling on their debut, Future Perfect (2004), I found something that not only filled that void but eclipsed it.1
Let's go track by track. Listen along (Spotify link above).
"Turnstile Blues"
Right out of the gate, Turnstile Blues is nothing remarkable until you consider that that lonesome drum beat up front is being powered by Carla Azar's bionic elbow. Bassist Eugene Goreshter enters with vocals and then at almost a minute in the distortion kicks in and starts to announce what Autolux is about: noise, noise, glorious noise.
"Angry Candy"
Angry Candy revs up to speed with a heavier fuzziness, but it is also a tune where we're first treated to another Autolux signature: the occasional vocal flourish. You can't call it doo wop, but -- and this factors in on later songs -- the band are hardly bashful about throwing in a doo do do (or whatever) not as filler but as part of the tapestry of any given song. [And for those of us who don't really hear lyrics until like the billionth listen, this sort of use of the vocal instrument can be a nice touch if done right. Autolux pull it off well.]
"Subzero Fun"
This is one you can feel from the get go is going to start in low, build the tension and then release it, kicking into overdrive. And it does. That opening line is a killer over that repeated, simple enough strum. ["You're my preferred route... ...down."] Azar kicks it up a notch leaning on that bass drum. And then, bang, like a machine in some abandoned factory grinding to life, the chorus takes off. And that grind is the key.
"Sugarless"
Cripes. What can you say about Sugarless? I've loved this one since the very first time I heard it. The formula isn't all that different from Turnstile, although there is a bit more complexity to the introductory part of the song. But then that drop -- oh, that drop -- hits a little more than a minute in. Exquisite. But the song is also the first to feature Azar on vocals (on the first part of the repeated chorus). This is something I can say in retrospect after years of listening, but songs with Azar on vocals are always good. Always. They are sporadic enough that they don't feel like the group are just doing that thing The Beatles did in giving Ringo "his" songs on an album. No, instead, Azar-sung songs are like a seal of approval, a guarantee that something good is coming down the pike. There's just a consistency to them over three records now. And to top it all off, there is that extended whirling dervish of an outro complete with vocal accoutrement (see Angry Candy) to close the song. It's one of those sequences you listen to on the recording and think to yourself, "That would be cool live." It is.
"Blanket"
Some track had to follow Sugarless and Blanket does yeoman's work in trying to keep up the pace of that scorcher. It's those reverby bits on the guitar in the chorus that carry the load. It is one of those things that makes you wonder whether something is wrong with your equipment. Is the speaker blown? What's wrong. Music that gives you that feint can be really rewarding. Well, to some of us anyway.
"Great Days for the Passenger Element"
Not that the album moves at breakneck speed to this point, but Autolux downshift into first gear on Great Days. It is a change of pace, yes, and fair or not, it works in essence like the segues Failure has peppered its albums with since Fantastic Planet. It is a palate cleanser. But the distorted conclusion does in some ways foreshadow the band's use of darker bass on 2016's Pussy's Dead. [It wasn't all Boots.]
"Robots in the Garden"
Ah, here's that warped machine whirring back into form again. Robots is a buzzsaw that is nearly over before it starts, a quick number that packs all the fuzz, reverb and other distortions that one might crave.
"Here Comes Everybody"
But then the pace drops off again. Part of returning to that crescendoing song structure is that an album in which it is used can feel like a bit of a rollercoaster. Throughout Future Perfect, Autolux use that with aplomb. And hey, this song replaces those doo do dos with sha la las. And yeah, Azar is delivering them. So, check. This one is good too. "Here comes everybody you never cared... ...for... ...sha la la!" That line sends the song off in a fiery jam that feeds into the warbled keys over deep pulses that transition into another Azar turn on vocals in...
"Asleep at the Trigger"
Sure, Asleep at the Trigger slows things down again, but it is a gauzier song that is great in its use of space. It's a patient track with a melancholic overtone that you can fall for every time. And, my god, that ambling ending is like lava slowly working its way down the gentle slope of a volcano that long ago blew its top and has incrementally built its way part of the way back up.
"Plantlife"
The fade out on Asleep meets the fade in of Plantlife. But what comes in alongside some spacey bleeps and bloops is something with a little bit more urgency. Unmistakably, however, it is that formula again: slow and low, building to something, this time through calls of "we're so dumb" and later exhortations of "shut your mouth". Plantlife never reaches the same peaks as some of the other preceding songs, but it isn't supposed to. It's purpose is to set up the closer, part of a progression over the final three songs.
"Capital Kind of Strain"
Finally, Capital is a slow build, brick by brick over the first more than three and a half minutes. Everything -- vocals, drums, guitar, bass -- is like the rhythm section of a jazz combo: repeating, dutifully keeping time behind some improvisation. But here, it is some spacey synth stuff deftly meandering around all the other component parts keeping time. And then, just as it seems as if the song will fade away and the record come to a close, it all comes rushing back, louder and more insistent with contorted guitars groaning in the background. This is one to listen to through headphones because things drift off almost into oblivion and then pop right back up again. But it is a brief fever dream that loses momentum and fades out.
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So yeah, Future Perfect is pretty great. It is a benchmark by which I measure other records, not just those by Autolux. It isn't my favorite album. I don't play the favorite game because I think I'm probably still in search of it. But Future Perfect is very high up on my list. And it certainly is the bedrock of the sorts of snaps and farts I look for in (and view as good) music.
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1 Yes, 2001's Demostration EP predates Future Perfect, but I didn't get to that material until after Future Perfect had already gotten its claws into me.
