By Martin Castro (The Cascade) – Email
Over the summer, New York duo Ratatat released their fifth studio album, titled Magnifique. After two records that, while being sonically interesting, didn’t live up to the standard set by their self-titled debut or the sophomore Classics, Ratatat’s fifth full-length record comes as a partial return to form.
The intro track seems to be the biggest in a series of nods to classical music found in Ratatat’s repertoire; a solo piano gives way to a guitar riff in the same vein as those made famous by Queen’s Brian May. “Cute” is perhaps the most poignant way of describing the track: it’s only a minute long, and it doesn’t really accomplish much, but, you know … it’s cute.
Ratatat’s influences apparently know no bounds, as the 17th-century “Intro” gives way to a bass line that screams 1979 almost as much as a bag of cocaine wearing an afro.
“Cream on Chrome” is the record’s most straightforward track, as well as its best, in my opinion. From the start, bass and an airtight guitar riff compel the listener to shake off the oppressive, soundless yoke of nine-to-fiveing and dance. Seriously, if you want your parents to spontaneously break into dance at dinnertime, play them this song when they sit down.
Apparently, Ratatat were of the mind that the listener just could not handle the level of groove displayed in “Cream on Chrome” for more than four minutes without hurting themselves or others, so they decided to slow things down with the LP’s namesake, “Magnifique.” A string section nudges the track on, hopeful and triumphant, as a relaxed-yet-anxious guitar riff assures the listener that this track was indeed made to serve as the soundtrack to a version of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off where Cameron’s dad shows up just as his prized Ferrari flies out the window, leaving Ferris to solemnly walk home with the bill in his back pocket.
On the other hand, “Abrasive” seems undercooked. It’s got a great groove, and the main guitar riff is appealing enough, but the track fails to come across as anything other than an instrumental work-out track found on some long-lost cassette tape.
But the record picks up with most of the remaining tracks working as a series of auditory vignettes. “Drift” makes hilariously effective use of some pedal steel to produce what I’m sure would be the result of Ratatat being commissioned to write the soundtrack to Spongebob Squarepants, and that result is oh-so-sweet. “Cold Fingers” is full of guitar riffs that will satiate your nostalgia for Classics-era Ratatat, and also features a kick-ass guitar solo. “Supreme” plays in the same style as “Drift,” only this track would be more at home playing over the tinny speakers of a high-school gymnasium hosting a freshman dance. Braces and awkward embraces abound.
“Rome,” one of the last tracks on the record, makes a big impact as it swells and falls in intensity beautifully, until a last crescendo brings the track home.
Perhaps overlong, Magnifique marks Ratatat’s return to making the funky, captivating music that so enthralled me in the mid-2000s.
