Not to be confused with Boredoms' Yamataka Eye, this EYE is French artist Laurène Exposito, who collages homespun electro-samba vignettes from her archive to assemble 'Honolulu / Saigon'.
On her third album, Exposito looks back to the past, exhuming her best unreleased material and cassette-only work and splicing it together into a coherent session. It's good stuff too, properly rooted in the perennially underrated Disques du Crepescule mode, specifically the influential work of Belgian synth-pop trio Antena. Singing into an echo chamber over wonky synths and uneven vintage drum machine loops, Exposito sounds as if she's unmoored from our current reality, existing in a parallel, punk-utopian 1980s.
'Ti Amo' is crusty and saturated enough to make us assume it was a period recording, with Exposito sing-speaking through a dub-coded mixing board and playful, cheap synths filling in the gaps. But 'Jeannette' sounds more like earlier electro-pop, replete with tinny vocals and oversaturated, disintegrated drums. 'La Mort de la Maîtresse' is more self-assured, coming across like trance made on a Casio keyboard, and 'AAM' is so grotty it sounds as if it was digitized from an old dictaphone tape. Exposito is able to capture the era's mood remarkably well, and even if her music doesn't sound in line with current production mores, at least it's got heart - something that's too often missing.
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Not to be confused with Boredoms' Yamataka Eye, this EYE is French artist Laurène Exposito, who collages homespun electro-samba vignettes from her archive to assemble 'Honolulu / Saigon'.
On her third album, Exposito looks back to the past, exhuming her best unreleased material and cassette-only work and splicing it together into a coherent session. It's good stuff too, properly rooted in the perennially underrated Disques du Crepescule mode, specifically the influential work of Belgian synth-pop trio Antena. Singing into an echo chamber over wonky synths and uneven vintage drum machine loops, Exposito sounds as if she's unmoored from our current reality, existing in a parallel, punk-utopian 1980s.
'Ti Amo' is crusty and saturated enough to make us assume it was a period recording, with Exposito sing-speaking through a dub-coded mixing board and playful, cheap synths filling in the gaps. But 'Jeannette' sounds more like earlier electro-pop, replete with tinny vocals and oversaturated, disintegrated drums. 'La Mort de la Maîtresse' is more self-assured, coming across like trance made on a Casio keyboard, and 'AAM' is so grotty it sounds as if it was digitized from an old dictaphone tape. Exposito is able to capture the era's mood remarkably well, and even if her music doesn't sound in line with current production mores, at least it's got heart - something that's too often missing.
Not to be confused with Boredoms' Yamataka Eye, this EYE is French artist Laurène Exposito, who collages homespun electro-samba vignettes from her archive to assemble 'Honolulu / Saigon'.
On her third album, Exposito looks back to the past, exhuming her best unreleased material and cassette-only work and splicing it together into a coherent session. It's good stuff too, properly rooted in the perennially underrated Disques du Crepescule mode, specifically the influential work of Belgian synth-pop trio Antena. Singing into an echo chamber over wonky synths and uneven vintage drum machine loops, Exposito sounds as if she's unmoored from our current reality, existing in a parallel, punk-utopian 1980s.
'Ti Amo' is crusty and saturated enough to make us assume it was a period recording, with Exposito sing-speaking through a dub-coded mixing board and playful, cheap synths filling in the gaps. But 'Jeannette' sounds more like earlier electro-pop, replete with tinny vocals and oversaturated, disintegrated drums. 'La Mort de la Maîtresse' is more self-assured, coming across like trance made on a Casio keyboard, and 'AAM' is so grotty it sounds as if it was digitized from an old dictaphone tape. Exposito is able to capture the era's mood remarkably well, and even if her music doesn't sound in line with current production mores, at least it's got heart - something that's too often missing.
Not to be confused with Boredoms' Yamataka Eye, this EYE is French artist Laurène Exposito, who collages homespun electro-samba vignettes from her archive to assemble 'Honolulu / Saigon'.
On her third album, Exposito looks back to the past, exhuming her best unreleased material and cassette-only work and splicing it together into a coherent session. It's good stuff too, properly rooted in the perennially underrated Disques du Crepescule mode, specifically the influential work of Belgian synth-pop trio Antena. Singing into an echo chamber over wonky synths and uneven vintage drum machine loops, Exposito sounds as if she's unmoored from our current reality, existing in a parallel, punk-utopian 1980s.
'Ti Amo' is crusty and saturated enough to make us assume it was a period recording, with Exposito sing-speaking through a dub-coded mixing board and playful, cheap synths filling in the gaps. But 'Jeannette' sounds more like earlier electro-pop, replete with tinny vocals and oversaturated, disintegrated drums. 'La Mort de la Maîtresse' is more self-assured, coming across like trance made on a Casio keyboard, and 'AAM' is so grotty it sounds as if it was digitized from an old dictaphone tape. Exposito is able to capture the era's mood remarkably well, and even if her music doesn't sound in line with current production mores, at least it's got heart - something that's too often missing.
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Not to be confused with Boredoms' Yamataka Eye, this EYE is French artist Laurène Exposito, who collages homespun electro-samba vignettes from her archive to assemble 'Honolulu / Saigon'.
On her third album, Exposito looks back to the past, exhuming her best unreleased material and cassette-only work and splicing it together into a coherent session. It's good stuff too, properly rooted in the perennially underrated Disques du Crepescule mode, specifically the influential work of Belgian synth-pop trio Antena. Singing into an echo chamber over wonky synths and uneven vintage drum machine loops, Exposito sounds as if she's unmoored from our current reality, existing in a parallel, punk-utopian 1980s.
'Ti Amo' is crusty and saturated enough to make us assume it was a period recording, with Exposito sing-speaking through a dub-coded mixing board and playful, cheap synths filling in the gaps. But 'Jeannette' sounds more like earlier electro-pop, replete with tinny vocals and oversaturated, disintegrated drums. 'La Mort de la Maîtresse' is more self-assured, coming across like trance made on a Casio keyboard, and 'AAM' is so grotty it sounds as if it was digitized from an old dictaphone tape. Exposito is able to capture the era's mood remarkably well, and even if her music doesn't sound in line with current production mores, at least it's got heart - something that's too often missing.