LCD Soundsystem: American Dream

Scott Wallace
1st Sep 2017

The cover of the fourth studio album from LCD Soundsystem doesn't look like something that fans have been waiting for since 2010. Through the band's retirement with a huge show and concert film at Madison Square Garden and through their return not long after. The cover of LCD Soundsystem's fourth album American Dream looks like a pamphlet that someone might hand you with a smile outside of a train station. You might read it with avid curiosity, or you might find the nearest bin to dispose of it. 

The same is true of the music contained inside. This is the most tossed-off that James Murphy's avant-disco-beat-poetry collective has sounded since their 2005 self-titled album. It seems far more content with thumping repetition than the more lush version of LCD Soundsystem that bid goodbye half a decade ago. Shallow chimes and a kick drum that still sounds as powerful as ever usher in the opener "oh baby," and Murphy's Brian Eno adoration comes through in the squealing guitars and grinding organ of "other voices."

The simple musical language of the album, sounding simultaneously like a dusty throwback and a sharp "now" moment, allows Murphy and co. to stretch out into some of their most compelling grooves and melodies in years. The one-two punch of the clattering "i used to" and the angular "change yr mind" finds Murphy's distinctively ragged falsetto in fine form, with a venom, bitterness, and melancholy all wrapped up in his delivery of lines like "Yeah, we're talking tough / Put on suburban lawns / in prone positions." 

Lyrically, despite the heavenly idyll of the cover, this is some of the band's most harrowing stuff. Loss and heartbreak permeate the album from the beginning ("My love life stumbles on" Murphy moans on the opener). Combining cutting and sparkling Kraftwerk synths with Psycho-strings and anguished vocals, the nine-minute "how do you sleep?' emerges from formless darkness to evolve into a cathartic dance floor banger. From there, the squelching synths and gooey vocoder of "tonite" lead the album into its remarkable second act.

"tonite" is one of LCD Soundsystem's sharpest and wittiest missives from the aging hipster consciousness that Murphy embodies. "Good gracious, I sound like my mom!" Murphy interjects during the tumbling disco diatribe that might be one of the most accurate explanations of how we experience time and identity in the information age yet put to music. The track starts a roll that continues through the remainder of the album. Racing krautrock ("call the police"), a dreamy waltz ("american dream"), metallic punk-funk ("emotional haircut"), and a twelve minute twilit disco haze ("black screen") bring the record to a thrilling and absorbing close.

Like the pamphlet that it resembles on the outside, American Dream has something to say. With bold strokes and a keen eye, James Murphy and co. tell a story that is spiritual, incisive, and waveringly optimistic. Depending on where you are in life, you may not want to hear it, or it might be exactly what you need. Don't put this album on and expect background music or something to dance to. Tossed off it may seem, but it's just as blisteringly academic and blatantly emotional as the band's best. 

American Dream is out now on CD, vinyl, and digital formats.