Electric Six have released some funky tunes in the last five years and on Tuesday the band released their fifth studio album, Flashy. Led by singer Dick Valentine and his pompous voice, the band are known for genre-defying dance tracks and tongue-in-cheek lyrics.
They came out swinging on their 2003 debut Fire. The songs Danger! High Voltage,"" ""Gay Bar"" and ""Nuclear War"" are almost impossible not to dance to like a maniac.
Fire brought commercial and critical success. It was a true sensation, but even amongst the thrilling classics there were some solid duds. The album progressively got worse, and the last song, ""Synthesizer,"" was a dry, mopey mess.
This half-assed pattern carries through on all their albums. They typically put the good songs up front and the end of the album is mediocre at best. Flashy is no exception, but in comparison to their debut, the fire has burnt out a bit.
""Gay Bar Part Two"" opens the album with a chunky rocker and hints that Flashy could be another smash hit, but as the album rolls on it gives the odd feeling of misplaced maturity. The band's childish sexuality and egoism is still as omnipresent as ever, but somehow the wildness seems to be hiding. It sounds over produced and, at times, like Creed if they were abducted by over-sexed aliens - especially on ""Your Heat Is Rising"". The result can be sickening.
The album still has good moments, but it's nowhere near as endearing as Fire. It is slower, and the self-serving charm of yesteryear has turned into boring, disjointed mock megalomania. ""Watching Evil Empires Fall Apart"" is almost ballad-like, setting up Valentine as a powerful emperor of love. Smoky saxophones play in the background, sheathing the song in pseudo-mystery.
Flashy has little to offer in continuity. Immediately after the smooth ending notes of ""Watching Evil Empires Fall Apart,"" ""Graphic Designer"" intrudes on whatever feelings the last song produced with noisy jumpiness. It then commits the cardinal sin: cheaply fading out into a slower-paced, less memorable tune. Perhaps Electric Six is unfamiliar with the concept of flow.
Their latest release starts with a promise of excitement but ends with a dead drop. The closer, ""Making Progress,"" is a mid-album song tacked on to the end. Laden with lazy vocoder singing and a lame techno beat, this song of utmost unimportance ends and, after a few seconds of silence, the listener feels cheated. ""What, was that really the end? Do I even care? Why do I feel so dirty? Did I just waste nearly an hour of my life listening to this?""
The saddest part about this album is that the band trying to take themselves seriously. Through the image of Valentine's ego, the band mocks the plastic ways of the modern age, seemingly saying that our culture and our people are fake. As fine as these ideas may be, who is going to listen to what a guy who calls himself ""the dance commander"" says when he's too busy boring them with his sappy, un-danceable music.
The electricity in Electric Six has been lost, or at least diminished, perhaps due in part to the ideals. If Dick Valentine wants to parody the vanity of our society he should just come up with a new band not drag down the once-great, but increasingly mediocre name of Electric Six.
