Electronic
Raise the Pressure

THE REVIEW

If a supergroup persists, there are essentially two reasons: either it’s made a bigger impact than the original projects (New Order in the case of Sumner, while Marr was mostly a session man at the time) or the members get along well together. The Electronic finds itself halfway. Their self-titled debut album received acclaim. It could have remained a one-time thing and no one would have demanded a follow-up. It goes without saying that this Raise The Pressure is as good as it gets.

Karl Bartos from Kraftwerk was recruited to lend a hand during the production phase, and the album was thought out, rethought, and embellished with flourishes, boasting an almost two-year gestation period.

The result is pleasant. Raise The Pressure doesn't have the personality of its predecessor, but it develops its intentions and enriches its nuances.

Reversing the terms, the result doesn’t change; without reversing the terms, the result shifts to levels where the only distinguishing factor is the relentless passage of time.

This album is enjoyable to listen to because it embodies pop, rock, electronic music, and the desire to have fun in the studio in equal measure.

It doesn’t do any wrongs, except for having kept us waiting too long.

A heterogeneous work without peaks, we could define it as such. Ready, set, it’s immediately hybrid: Sumner’s unmistakable voice, guitars, the groove from the first album becomes evident. Here you either play the Oasis game or perish? Naaa.

Time to clear your mind and the dance vein pops up again, then diminishes, then revives, then dies, then is reborn. It seems like a poorly conceived reluctance, but that's how it is. In the sense: after finishing a track, you don’t know what to expect at the start of the next one.

In the first album, meditation was delegated to the lyrics: here the music tries to speak more. Consider the elaborate intro of ‘Until The End Of Time,’ sumptuous in parts, so enriched that it might escape or disturb if not cleaned up by a remaster. Or, again, how the guitars counterbalance in the bridge of ‘One Day’ or the slow death of the synthetic ‘If You’ve Got Love.’

It’s curious and contradictory. ‘Electronic’ from 1991 is more frenzied but worked on impulsively, this one more immediate but born with significant delay.

13 tracks to build a small tower of Babel that includes many languages, in terms of sonic effectiveness, and the result succeeds. The intent of confirming themselves less so, perhaps because it was not wanted.

The Electronic never sought to create a story, or an alibi, or an image. They offered a product thoughtlessly, with their heads now here, now there. The solid foundation is the approach to the instrument, the freedom to experiment without overdoing it, the lightness of those who already have credibility and owe nothing to anyone.

This is likely what Bernard and Johnny thought while performing, for example, ‘Freefall.’

Elevated love stories, stuff that you can find around, but here it’s made a niche, where pop and dance but also acoustics can coexist, as separate but always together.