Arne Van Petegem — the one-and-only oh-so-lonely
man-as-island dwelling as Styrofoam (amidst a sea of
sadness) — recently cement-ponded his status as the
most melancholy oyster-boy in Morr's collection of
sensitive new-(digital-)age geeks, on the Morr Music
Japan Tour disc of the ought-four, the merch (and the
touring) being a co-billed tweelectro love-in with Styrofoam, the Go Find, and
ISAN.
In such chummy
company, the Belgian boffin showed up his pals by
showing how his emo heart bleeds bloodied blues,
fronting for a couple of skittery-beat remakes of cuts
cut by his indie-rock heroes, knocking out a knock-up
of Lou Barlow's "Think (Let Tomorrow Be)," and, then,
doing an unerring Elliott Smith impersonation on a
heart-stabbingly-good heartbreaker breakdown of the
white-suit-wearer's heartbroken ode "Between the Bars."
Such sad-song(s)-saying-so-much singing being par for
the Styrofoam course, the Brussels sprout charting his
voyage deep into his sea of sadness, exploring the
unexplored waters of emotional electro-engineering.
With his last longplayer, I'm What's There to Show
That Something's Missing, someone (uh, like, me,
probably) vaunted Van Petegem as the most sentimental
electro-dork this side of Dntel/Postal Service honcho
Jimmy Tamborello, and, well, just to draw such a
comparable comparison closer to the spotlit light,
here, on his latest Styrofoam action, he ropes in one
Ben Gibbard for guest vocal duties, said vocalist
— once himself just a guest on that Dntel disc — now
known far and wide by teenaged girls down with the
sounds of the iconic and acronymic "OC." Whilst the
most notable thing about th'foam has always been Van
Petegem's own lack of fear when it comes to singing,
Nothing's Lost finds him finding help from numerous
guest-vocal types, opening with a cut featuring
crooning from Lali Puna heroine Valerie Trebeljahr,
rapping from Anticonvict button-pusher Alias, and hot
guitar licks from Notwist honcho Markus Acher, and
later stopping in on a particularly sad-sack shoegazer
number where Andrew Kenny, from ultra-tasteful
moodstrumentalists the American Analog Set, provides
the layers of Shields-ian Cupid Come coos, before
breaking out in a strangely Postal-Service-ish
repeat-to-fade refrain. It's strange, then, that such
works much better than the Gibbard guest spot (which
will, alone, garner this gear much more
attention/acclaim/sales), which, whilst it has its
charms, seems slightly self-conscious, only losing
that air when Van Petegem dares clip the specifics of
the throat-positioning singing with droney
digital effects.
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