Hot Chip - Pop in techno-color

Who knows how many of the diehard dancers to “Over And Over” would recognize themselves in the early Hot Chip. Aside from the unmistakable near-falsetto that marks their vocal parts, the Mexico EP offers few clues as to the path the two co-founders Alexis Taylor and Joe Goddard would later take. It was 2001, and the London duo's output, recorded with material laid down two years earlier, relied on simple arrangements in which folk ballad dominated over timid electronic touches, all wrapped in a strongly homemade atmosphere: acoustic guitar, slowed-down cadences, and measured distortions closer to (Smog) than to the ironic excursions they would later accustom us to.

If there's a common thread to be found, it lies rather in the band's growing command (having picked up three more members along the way, first among them old friend Owen Clarke) of song craft. Whether it's the weary, aching notes of the earliest “Beeting” or the dazzling alliterations of “Ready For The Floor” (the track was offered to Kylie Minogue, who turned it down, before coming out as the lead single from “Made In The Dark” in early 2008), Hot Chip have always shown they know how to handle their raw material, shaping it with a skill that keeps their sound instantly recognizable.

The years of "Mexico Ep" were also the years of the band's deal with Victory Garden, a label so small that it advised the group to self-produce and distribute their second short release, Sanfrandisco E-Pee, on CD-R, which came out in 2002. While still keeping a spartan structure, on this new mini-album the band makes a more decisive use of electronics, taking shape in minimal trip-hop ("Making Tracks"), in not-so-veiled tributes to the Young Marble Giants ("Sanfrandisco"), but also in the dreamy quietism of a certain brand of German pop à la Morr ("Leave"). All this while the first timid rays of sunshine break through on the closing reggae track H.O.T.C.H.I.P.: glimmers that, growing more intense, would go on to light up the future full-length debut "Coming On Strong" - what we might call the British outfit's turn toward the beach, and also the launchpad for the notoriety, and the ensuing commercial appeal, that would follow.

The debut album was first released in 2004 on Moshi Moshi, before being reissued the following year by the better-equipped Dfa Records, which guaranteed it a much wider distribution.

With Coming On Strong, Hot Chip manage to walk the treacherous shoreline between white funk and electropop without getting painfully sunburnt and without getting bogged down on a beach littered with holes and sandcastles, playing with the funk of Prince and Stevie Wonder, while never losing sight of the indietronic-flavored folk that gave birth to them.

But there are also soft bits of showmanship worthy of 80s-era Bryan Ferry, as well as refined melancholy close to China Crisis, slotted into a lean, stylish minimal-electro context. "Take Care" is a whispered digital soul-blues that glows with melodic hypnotism, while "Beach Party" rests on a bare-bones keyboard, a stripped-down four-to-the-floor beat and vocal touches straight out of China Crisis, preserving an aura of calm even with a few sly nods to dance music.

On the infectious "Keep Fallin'", irony takes centre stage within a funky frame, with Taylor's easygoing vocal line weaving over a brazen bass groove, second in originality only to the oddball horns that close out the track.

Hot Chip manage not to be ordinary even on the trip-hop of "Playboy", where a beefy synth à la Gary Numan crashes down over its otherwise "classic" base, with Goddard cloning the backing vocals of Heaven 17 vocalist Glenn Gregory - just as he does on the deeply romantic "Crap Kraft Dinner", where atmospheric whispered vocals melt into a delicate crescendo led by an echoing saxophone that carries the track out to open sea.

After the dutiful tribute of "Down With Prince" (guess who to? If the title doesn't give it away, the first three notes will), and a delicacy with black-music shadings sung by Taylor, "Bad Luck", the closing stretch gives way to an unabashed folktronica melancholy. While still keeping the songwriting at a high level, here we move into more conventional glitch-pop territory, which nonetheless doesn't stop the album from ranking among the best releases of that year.

The partnership with Dfa bore fruit in 2006, first with the release of the single "Over And Over" (which would be named single of the year by New Musical Express), then with the Ep Boy From School, both of which paved the way for the second album, The Warning, released through Emi.

The Warning, even without the surprise factor of its predecessor, confirms Hot Chip as one of the most skilled and original bands on the new electronic-pop scene: however much one might enjoy drawing comparisons, these idiosyncratic Englishmen sound like themselves and no one else, thanks to a markedly ironic, laid-back vocal approach and compositions built from linear sounds that unfold in thoroughly unpredictable ways. But new elements have been added to the band's loose-limbed songwriting, starting with a more pronounced dance inclination.

While not abandoning the winning formula, the pounding disco-funk of "And I Was A Boy From School", the quintessential summer single, is the first track to flirt openly with the dancefloor. As does "Over And Over", even more unrestrained thanks to its eighties-style clapping, which won it many converts in Tiga territory, its offbeat rhythm anchored by infectious little keyboard lines, and its robotic digression, whose goofiness would delight Devo. Nor should we overlook the opening "Careful", a nervous break 'n' beat number that harks straight back to an era not yet touched by revivalist fashion: that of the first heavy sampling and of stop-and-go passages filled by stately, melodic openings à la Art Of Noise, which branded the second half of the Eighties.

If on one hand the languid "Colours" and the eccentric "Arrest Youself" have the flaw of lingering too long on the Hot Chip-style formula, it's the dreamy sway of the title track, the rubbery bass of "Just Like We (Breakdown)" and the pedigree synth-pop of "No Fit State" - whose mock-martial turn is close to becoming yet another of the band's signature traits - that bring the songwriting back up to its usual level. The lullaby of "Won't Wash", which lacks the voice of a young Phil Oakey to prove where it's headed, closes out an album that places Hot Chip's name among the genuinely good acts, erasing it from the overcrowded ranks of unfulfilled promises. The specialist British electronic and dance magazine "Mixmag" took notice, naming it album of the year, while the record also found its way onto many playlists compiled by independent bloggers and webzines.

The second half of 2006, as well as much of the following year, were spent playing live events, including Sonar, the Benicàssim Festival and Reading Festival, alongside numerous individual dates that let the quintet show they could be appreciated live perhaps even more than in the studio: the tour's Live Session recordings were sold exclusively through iTunes, gathering a fair following among downloaders.

Over the years, Goddard and co. have also become highly sought-after DJs and remixers: artists as popular as Kraftwerk (with "La Forme" and "Aerodynamik"), Tracey Thorn and Amy Winehouse have passed through their hands, as well as leading names from the indie scene such as Junior Boys, !!!, The Go! Team and many others. From commissioned remixes to Dj Kicks it was a short step, and so our band took on the famous series produced and distributed by K7. The compilation came out in May 2007, putting together a sequence that calling eclectic would be a sheer understatement: you'll find New Order's "Bizarre Love Triangle" next to Tom Zé, Joe Jackson's "Stepping Out" arm in arm with Ray Charles's "Mess Around", and in the middle the inevitable Hot Chip dance cut, "My Piano", which would later be issued as a 12" vinyl as well as a downloadable mp3 on iTunes.

"And then we start to dance", Kraftwerk solemnly declared in 1977, and we all know the effects that approach to dancing produced over the following thirty years. Setting aside any bold, far-fetched comparisons (the one thing they now share with the four men from Düsseldorf is their record label, Astralwerks), with their 2008 album Made In The Dark Hot Chip finally commit fully to the dancefloor gospel, after long lingering at its borders. Its first half, in fact, chronicles the crossing over into clubland, the long-awaited choice of side that The Warning before it, and the baptism of Dj Kicks, had already hinted at.

The album opens with "Out At The Pictures", a repetitive, cantankerous synth-rock number, followed by the electric shocks and techno-robotic jolts of "Shake A Fist" - two successful earworms that Taylor and co. had already had the satisfaction of road-testing live. Ready and waiting for the (dance)floor. It carries straight on with the single "Ready For The Floor", whose electro seduction comes close to that of peak Felix Da Housecat ("Silver Screen", perhaps?), reviving the glories of the tried-and-tested "Boy From School", before picking up the pace even further with the raucous "Bendable Poseable".

So what about the darkness promised in the title, then? Only a few clues, which translate into broad parentheses between full-throttle neo-funk numbers and colourful robots, functioning within the album's economy as contemplative pauses amid the admirable exercises in shaping electronics toward pop, and vice versa. Traces to sniff out in "We're Looking For A Lot Of Love", in the title track, and even more so in the farewell slow numbers "Whistle For Will" and "In The Privacy Of Our Love", where the drum machines are set aside in favour of the happy imprimatur already familiar from the days of "Coming On Strong". The message being: we haven't forgotten how to write pop songs, as the abundant irony of the digital gospel of "Wrestlers" also reminds us.

But it's still the party spirit that calls the shots, in the vitamin-charged guitars of "One Pure Thought" and the playful pomposity of "Hold On", so much so that on this dizzyingly spinning carousel you can even make out the silhouettes of the Mael brothers, never so effectively fawned over. "You're my number one guy, we are ready for the floor", and perhaps a comely girl winking as she sits at a nightclub bar with her legs crossed. The dream and revenge of nerds: may the new techno-pop be with you, and don't say we didn't warn you.

In the follow-up One Life Stand (2010), the storyline still unfolds within the bounds of danceable electronic pop, but further refining the codes that made Hot Chip the rosé-tinted standard-bearers of the myspace generation.

The sound grows cleaner, fuller and more defined, while the harmonies, always chiselled in pursuit of the winning refrain, stack up into layers of a sophistication previously unheard from the band. In short, a strong move towards more classic electronic pop. Perhaps, working out the chords of "Keep Quiet" on an acoustic six-string might reveal the mystery of why a great, bearded, serious old man like Robert Wyatt found the time to record an EP with them (Hot Chip with Robert Wyatt and Geese, EMI 2008), and listening to the artfully solemn "Slush" might explain why Peter Gabriel wanted precisely them to play around with a Vampire Weekend track in which Peter himself was name-checked ("Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa"). To complete the circle of illustrious collaborators, the new record even features the disarming presence of Charles Hayward, emerging from the mist of myth surrounding his old band, This Heat.

Dropping a chorus like the one in "Take In It" means having broken into the synth-pop vault under cover of night and made off with its treasures, no two ways about it. Being able to sit at the same table as the Pet Shop Boys, and not as guests. Just as it takes seasoned performers to blend italo-disco and Madonna and hand us back the infectious auto-tune of "I Feel Better", or pay great tribute, updating them in the process, to the Moroder-esque Sparks of "Terminal Jive" on "Brothers", with the two singers duetting at their very best.

All of it soundtracked scenarios far more layered than those crafty characters Taylor and co. would have us believe. Who knows, maybe some ad-jingle wizard will finally catch on to them and genuinely steer them to the top of the global charts.

Two years after One Night Stand comes In Our Heads, Hot Chip's first effort released by Domino. The album is made up of two intertwined souls, with results that aren't always thrilling: the first stems from the band's musical daring – on "How Do You Do", for instance, the techno/house sounds (gradually developed through the individual members' DJ work, especially Joe Goddard's with his side project 2 Bears) seem to pick up on themes dear to early Daft Punk, and "Night & Day", the first, robotic single, surprises with the gust of freshness and clarity it manages to convey – while the second is more melancholic. On "These Chains" a very '80s, chill-wave-tinged dance bed provides the backdrop to Taylor's pensive voice – a voice that, however, doesn't convince quite as much elsewhere (for instance on the ballad "Look At Where We Are").

2015 also brings the sixth album, bearing the irreverent title Why Make Sense?. Taylor and co. set off again from a well-tested formula: breezy synth pop, vaguely pulsing and glossy whenever needed (take as an example the lead single "Huarache Lights"). Hot Chip's music gives off modular joy and synthetic irreverence. That much is suggested by the sprightly synth runs of the aforementioned Taylor/Goddard duo, as well as the band's usual rhythmic stop-and-go moves, and the big soul-flavoured ballads placed centre-stage to restate their love for their perennial reference points, Wonder and very early Prince ("White Wine and Fried Chicken"). All of it fuelled by soft minimal-electro jolts, see the shadowy, robotic gait of "Dark Night". As ever, the fusion of the soft, lulling rhythmic fabric and Taylor's clean, candid, uninhibited voice finds its perfect fit in the laptop tinkering and videogame-like flourishes that season the primary sonic framework. However, the album doesn't add anything to what this likeable London outfit has already delivered. A formula that remains fizzy in places, but which, ten years on, is starting to show the first inexorable signs of fading.

2019 brings the seventh effort from the English supergroup, steadily steered by the deus ex machina duo Alexis Taylor, aka the nerd, and Joe Goddard, less nerdy and more of a DJ. The distinguishing trait of the saga, launched way back in 2004, is by now set in stone, and A Bath Full Of Ecstasy doesn't escape the rule of lovely danceable synth-pop: sure, Daft Punk, Prince and Stevie Wonder work fine as references, so do LCD Soundsystem, Four Tet, Roisin Murphy and even veteran Felix da Housecat – they all work fine, but in the end, despite hefty (sometimes minimal) injections of funk, soul and house, Hot Chip's music is highly danceable electronic pop, even if there's often a competition to belittle the genre by hiding it behind far cooler labels.

And this comeback would have been absolutely wonderful too, had it not been overshadowed by the tragedy of Philippe Zdar, aka one half of Cassius and Motorbass, an undisputed protagonist of the so-called French touch and here acting as co-producer. Zdar's death, the day before the album's worldwide release, effectively turns this latest production into the French studio wizard's testament.

Here and there, amid pared-down guitars, the odd sample, and the introduction of the vocoder partly replacing the usual falsetto vocals, echoes resurface of what was, between the Nineties and the Noughties, the coolest movement on the international scene. It's impossible not to think, ear-wise, of Phoenix — even the Phoenix of "Ti amo" — while listening to the title track (naturally, Zdar at the console there as much as here), or of psychedelia-cloaked kraut-rock on one of the best and most unconventional episodes of the whole album, namely "Clear Blue Skies", where no, it doesn't sound like Hot Chip at all but rather like the Air of "10.000 Hz Legend".

It stands to reason, then, that the album's 48 minutes keep more than one eye on the past without any particular novelties, the perfect example being the lead single "Hungry Child", which boasts a melodic structure, double female vocals and a thoroughly '90s house rhythm. It's Hot Chip, but it could just as easily be Inner City 2.0, and the same goes for the other most house-leaning track on offer, "Echo", which nonetheless opens into a chorus of absolute melodic class. Also present, inevitably, are tributes to the standard-bearers of synth-pop: there's "No God", which the moment it kicks in makes you think you've accidentally slipped a present-day Erasure disc into the player, and "Positive", done Pet Shop Boys-style, and not just in the bridge. And what of "Spell", propped up by a combination of pulsing bass, rhythm and looped phrases heralding a vocoderised chorus straight out of the Daft Punk playbook, with a long instrumental coda in which the sounds resurface one by one up to the explosive finale, typical of the classic eighties-style 12-inches?

Let's celebrate, then, a successful record, one with the merit of reversing the downward trend of the last decade, even if it lacks that one big summer chart-topper.

In the summer of 2022, the London band produces the eighth instalment of their discography. Freakout/Release starts from premises drawn from feelings of frustration and discontent, situations that frontman Alexis Taylor (his smooth voice doesn't yield to the passing of time), Joe Goddard and Al Doyle tried to process during the pandemic period, distilling them into a very clear and direct line placed in the title track, from which one gathers that while making new music was at first their best escape from reality, it has now become their vital dimension.

The elegance and accessibility of Hot Chip's indietronica comes through smoothly both in immediately gripping episodes such as "Down" (introduced by the notes of "More Than Enough" by the Universal Togetherness Band), the sun-drenched quintessence of "Eleanor" and the wavering, finely tunedpalette of "Guilty", as well as in more measured sequences ("Time", "Not Alone" and the dreamlike "Out Of My Depth").

On an album that still has a few questionable moments (“Broken” and “Miss The Bliss”), perhaps because they're too standardized and lacking in real standout moments, within a tracklist otherwise made up of far more structured ideas, Hot Chip prove they can deliver a perfect mix of hit radio singles, hedonistic abandon and softened introspection: yet another shot landing very close to the bullseye for a band now considered a genuine sure thing in the field.

Contributions by Daniele Rigoli (“In Our Heads”) and Giuliano Delli Paoli (“Why Make Sense?”), Mauro Caproni (“A Bath Full Of Ecstasy”), Cristiano Orlando (“Freakout/Release”)

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