TV On The Radio
Dear Science

DEAR SCIENTISTS

Or if you prefer critic-employees, in these days of bank collapses, 0.1% GDP growth, and mortgage crises, I frankly cannot explain the uproar caused by "Dear Science", the latest (anticipated) work from the New York-chic TV On The Radio. I do not understand this enthusiastic cry of "wolf, wolf" when the product in question, good in itself, is far from deserving big words and various fawns. It might be my professional bias worthy of Alfred Kinsey, for I quite loved the past adventures of messrs Andrew David Sitek, Tunde Adebimpe, and company, but these eleven examples of pop-funkette (very "..wish I were reborn as Prince in NY in 1986 and end up in an episode of Miami Vice") leave me anemic, recycled, and slightly confused. Perhaps "disappointment" is the key to it all, because "Return To Cookie Mountain" almost struck me: de-luxe production with bells and whistles, layers of guitars and synths in a washing machine, a new-new-wave of the new millennium ready for use by budding Patrick Bateman, who at the time of "Scary Monsters" were either the age of baby food or in embryo. Just like the tracks on the album, something that gave the idea of birth and transformation from one moment to the next, and the soul-futurist vocalization of the creative Adebimpe to scamper between doo-wop, a cappella voodoo rites, the White Duke dining with Basquiat, and Marvin Gaye vampirized in an asylum. In short, we had Wolf Like Me, the memorable Province and now we should console ourselves with the slightly gaye rainbow dances of the cheerful hedonistic single Golden Age.. It’s not little, but neither is it Diora Baird.

 Then the reviewer stubbornly continues listening and, damn, these guys don’t miss a beat. I reopen the mail of Dear Science and find the opening Halfway Home (a sonic Eurostar between synthetic bursts, high-speed avant-rock, Ramones choruses, and contagious hand-clapping), an agile syncopated, nocturnal beat (DLZ) and the conceptual hip-hop fused with the electronica of Dancing Choose. The echoes, the strings, and the piano of the Gabriel-esque ballad Family Tree. The simple melody of digital lullaby Love Dog. The funky guitars of the dancing pop Crying and the paradisiacal finale of flutes, sax, and brass in the bolero/gospel Lover's Day... Despite this, the undeniable ability of the five to revel in a bazaar of sounds with few equals and the magnificent packaging transverse, the most down-to-earth and scholastic episode of Radio TV. Of course, it is permissible to simplify just a little without selling out to the mainstream. Even if something of the old psychotic soul\wave magic turns into a dense and communicative "popular" form. And it would be preferable if the masterminds Sitek and Malone went back to listening to "Lodger", instead of "Let's Dance". Yet "Dear Science" convinces, conquers, and mesmerizes like a marathoner on the highest podium at the Olympics. Here, dear scientist-writers, I bid you subdued farewell (not submissive) and close this sugary letter of bile, with the sordid hope that the Superstar Minister of the Economy Tremonti can manage to preserve our market from financial turbulence and speculation. The risk is contained, and Italian banks seem like solid fishing boats in the stormy seas of the Dow Jones. Meanwhile, as I wait, I return to listening to "King Eternal".