Now a trio, Client continue to craft chilly, elegant
electro-pop that's poised and business like, full of hooks, and tries to
conjure feelings of luxury and efficiency.
Synth-pop has always been filled with deliberate coldness
and facelessness-- nothing new about that. But that's not Client's style:
They're one of few synth acts I've heard who seem to lack personality mostly by
accident. It's hard to even pinpoint where that sensation comes from. It's not
in their music, which is certainly up (one of) my alley(s): chilly, elegant
electro-pop, poised and business like, full of hooks. It's not in their image,
which is a good match for the sound-- first two and now three women,
semi-anonymous, dressed up in sleek 80s business wear and flight-attendant
uniforms that go perfectly with the luxury and efficiency they're trying to
conjure. Heartland, their third album, is the kind of full-on solid record I
barely even expect to hear these days, every track as concise and hook-filled
as the last. Apart from the lyrics, they have all the bases covered: Anyone
looking for reliable synth-pop thrills will find something to enjoy in just
about every song.
The vagueness of those lyrics might be a clue to the
problem, though: Client don't seem to have much that they're actually trying to
get across to us. It's not just a matter of electro detachment, either. This,
after all, is music that descends in large part from Depeche Mode, whose Andy
Fletcher was the first to sign Client-- and god knows those guys are big enough
drama queens to inspire deep personal attachment, fervent teenage
under-the-covers listening. The band Ladytron, Client's closest English peers,
have been learning to pack their tracks with the same kind of emotion;
Goldfrapp, probably the next closest, just ramp up their glitter and
physicality to the point of decadence. The problem with Client is that they're
offering...what? It's strangely hard to find an angle in there, the right
aesthetic particulars to give the band a face and a feel. And if you've located
it, feel free to write in and tell me where.
The funny part is that Heartland really is awfully
well-made-- great hooks, structure, production, the works. The introduction of
a new member on bass gives their sound a new smoothness, which they use to
cruise beautifully up to any number of great hooks. There's one on
"Drive" with the casual cool of Elastica. There's one in "Monkey
on My Back", with beautifully scripted pulsing and call-and-response
chants. There's a Goldfrapp-style glam shuffle on "Lights Go Out",
the most fetching of several songs that all might as well be singles-- I'll bet
anything you'll hear it in a commercial one day, get it stuck in your head, and
wind up thinking it sounds great. It's probably telling, though, that the big
fun surprise comes from one of the band's old tricks, bringing in guest
musicians to inject some personality. Simon Tong adds guitar to a cover of Adam
Ant's "Zerox Machine", and while it's not quite the record's most
memorable tack, the band suddenly seems to muster up some of the verve and
spark that's oddly absent elsewhere.
What's really strange is that Client seem to think of
their faceless, uniformed image as some kind of commentary on
"manufactured" mainstream pop. Weird, given that that's actually the
context where these songs work best-- as tight, stylish singles, the sort you
can love hearing on the radio or the dance floor for a few months, all without
stressing over what the band as a whole is all about. It's when you bring this
stuff home, at LP length, that you start wondering: excellent craftsmanship,
but what's your thing? Other bands are doing this too, after all-- and even
when they're not as consistent, a lot of them have something in their music
that we stand more of a chance of really falling for.
by Nitsuh Abebe