Dr. Who walks into a club, marches to the bar and orders a drink for himself. The drink is strong, he feels light-headed but decides to dance. The ‘Dalek’ DJ throws on Black Devil Disco Club’s new album, ‘White Moon White Sun’, and he loses his mind. Lasers and hugs are being thrown around the room and everyone feels good.
An odd daydream, yes but exactly the sort of fantasy that you fall into when this album begins, bongos beating and synth soaring it’s a feel good throwback to an age when electronica reigned supreme. Sun Dance Totem kicks off the journey, infectious bongo samples with strict marching drums leave the listener in a quasi-religious state of musical prayer, taking them out of their comfy chairs and marches them over hot coals.
For better or for worse the album continues in the same vein, making use of an almost comical vocal sample, and lays on sheets of synth as it runs into Bee Boop and then into T.Hoo. T. Hoo does manage to give a slightly ominous air as its bass synth is stifled and, to paraphrase Peep Shows Super Hans, contains the perfect level of dread.
A slightly light-hearted vocal sample, which sounds like a politician who has just accidentally touched a homeless person, takes the song out of the realm of ‘serious music’ (different to music which should be taken seriously) and in classic disco fashion puts a smile on your face.
This isn’t an album which takes itself too seriously, but then again neither did the entire genre of disco. Both Maymellow and Stardotcom follow down the same track, ascending riffs, extra-terrestrial tones and relentless snare bring you back to the first time you heard New Order’s Blue Monday, unconsciously head bopping and toe tapping. The Kid In Me begins with the same tone and sample usage but masks the blatant repetition with a some brilliantly cheesy lines like “I wanna’ see you naked till the end of time.”
While incredibly enjoyable, and frankly mood enhancing, the album begins to lose its lustre as it reaches Three Notes. Variety, while not wholly necessary, is totally lacking. With that being said it does allow the album to run seamlessly into itself and, by the time we reach the albums final tune Mexo Mambo, it probably doesn’t even matter.
By that stage we would have accepted our disco daydream fate and would be more than happy to get lost in it until someone explains to us that world hunger still exists. At least with this album we can forget about it for a while.
Black Devil Disco Club’s album doesn’t seem to have attempted to reinvent the wheel, but rather keep the wheel just as it had been in 1978 with the ‘Disco Club EP’. A wheel which just rolls without a care across a desert, down a waterfall and into your listening machines.