Lounge music ain’t dead yet. Just ask Air, the French-duo (Jean-Benoit Dunckel and Nicolas Godin) that composes atmospheric landscapes using quirky synths, string ensembles and pulsating yet subtle electronic beats in a style akin to musician Brian Eno. Their debut Moon Safari showcased the duo’s ability to carefully teeter on the line between kitsch and cool and was released just at the right time when martinis and late-1960s lounge cool had their cachet with the yuppies. Lounge-cool may have been pushed aside as a passing fad, but Air proves with Talkie Walkie that they are still around making the spaced-out, interstellar soundtrack to our thoughts.
Don’t be surprised to see little change from their earlier efforts. “Venus” is a down-tempo opener replete with acoustic guitar, brow-beaten piano, menacing synths and a male and female singing so indifferently it’s surprising they remember the words. The minimalism and execution of a four-chord composition keeps the ears closely attune—a trick Air has always managed to pull off well in their oeuvre, particularly on “Cherry Blossom Girl” and the computerized “Run.” Air’s techno-savvy is balanced well by the occasional bucolic acoustic guitar, sometimes a banjo, lush string ensembles and piano on tracks like “Mike Mills” and the album’s best, “Universal Traveller.”
Air has never been interested in lyric-their variegated instrumentation and embrace of technology says it all and is what makes their music compelling. The words mostly revolve around clich?s (“No one can stop me to go / You’ll never see me again”), and usually consist of the same vocal timbre-distant and forlorn. So while Air is absolutely not to be overlooked, and a conglomerate jokingly named “Greatest Snoozers” would be their best contribution, enjoy Talkie Walkie while expanding your mind, enjoying the company of a special someone, or falling asleep.
