We have a long list of people to thank for the recent surge of distorted, bit-crunched, loop mash-up electro music, which, despite its aural harshness, opened the doors of techno wider than they’ve ever been to all kinds of listeners. Suddenly, people enjoyed having Alice Glass scream in their faces, and Simian Mobile Disco’s beat-driven, snippety beeps and boops became meaningful. The scratchy tones of electro have since deeply penetrated the ever-penetrable world of dance, and many a producer has followed suit. Still, in music, some people will always stick to their guns, refusing to blend into the 8-bit status quo, and, as a result, push their art forward and down the throats of the conformists.
Open wide, America. Renowned Swedish producer Kleerup is finally here to dole a healthy serving of Scandinavian ambi-trance dancetronica on his self-titled debut, and he brought along plenty of friends to help create a squeaky clean record that’s sure to garner tons of club play, even with a seemingly basic song structure and deceptively broad style. Kleerup makes dance music that works extremely well, and the guest vocalists—including Robyn and Linda Sundblad—are superbly mixed into the epic nonstop synth-fest.
The initial hook on Kleerup is made up of the multiple vocal collaborations, which offer an instant pop-friendly reach-around to the untrained ear. An extremely resonant half-note progression pulses through “Until We Bleed,” gently baby talk sung by Lykke Li and intermingled with a wheezy string section. Robyn’s hint-of-eighties belting and more strings combine for the already classic “With Every Heartbeat.” Linda Sunblad sings “History,” adding another disco-ready track to the onslaught.
However, it’s Kleerup’s own roots-based originality that gives his album the retro mood it needs to attract the right crowd. “Thank You For Nothing” puts a big foot down on today’s dance floor, but the big surprise of the album is “On My Own Again,” which sounds like an eighties megahit pulled out of a time capsule and resuscitated by a smoking hot lifeguard.
Admittedly, parts of the album drag, but it’s not going to bother the sweaty, shirtless, gyrating dancing populous as they slurp down cosmos and PBR, especially if some people like Justice come around with a distorted, bit-crunchy remix version of opener “Hero” to welcome the neo-lectro masses back into the club. Till then, we’ll give Kleerup some time to grow on us. Our ears will thank us.
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