I finished this about a week ago and I hesitated posting it because I thought it was too long. But hey, I probably won't be posting for a few more days, so what the hell.
AND THE 'OSKAR' GOES TO...
Momus - Oskar Tennis Champion
Oskar Tennis Champion can be viewed as a tennis match in itself, with Momus�s voice and lyrics facing off against John Fashion Flesh�s glitched-out remixes of each song. Fashion Flesh in fact reproduced the album; after completing them in Tokyo, Momus sent the Oskar songs via internet to John in the U.S. who mangled them in his own disjointed fashion and sent them back. The result is distinctly the product of two masterminds, and each song features the music being bounced back and forth between electro-glitch tangents and Momus�s sneaking voice.
Of course, for this tennis match to be appealing to the audience there must be a sort of balance between both sides of the court. The players must try to keep the ball in constant rhythmic volley, otherwise one player will dominate the game. Oskar Tennis Champion tries hard to keep this rhythm and balance throughout the album, but inevitably some songs come out a little uneven.
The real threat to consistency here is Fashion Flesh. He�s the Challenger. Momus is our home player; having produced every one of his previous albums with his own two hands, we have our expectations for what we want to hear from the self-proclaimed Tender Pervert/Ultraconformist/Smooth Folk Singer. But this time Momus has trusted Oskar in the hands Fashion Flesh, and with good reason. Flesh reproduced Oliver Cobol�s 8-bit madrigals in the same fashion and, calling themselves The Super Madrigal Brothers, released the fantastic glitch-nostalgia album "Shakestation". Momus released the CD on his American Patchwork label and was so impressed with Flesh�s work that he commissioned him for the Oskar project (Oliver Cobol also contributed to Oskar Tennis Champion with the semi-secret track, "Ring Tone Cycle").
The question is, can Fashion Flesh�s reproduction truly be on par with Momus�s own production skills, which we�ve come to know and love? In reading his website essays you will find that Momus surely thinks so, and for the most part, I agree.
After listening to the album there�s no doubt that Flesh has a fine understanding of music and an intricate imagination to go with it. You can hear Momus�s trademark retro-electronic arrangements as the groundwork for each song, but now the music is in constant flux. Blips, clicks, moog sweeps and video-game sounds continually come and go while the vocals and melodies are subjected to an endless barrage of computer effects. Though we have no way of knowing what exactly has been altered from the original Momus-produced tracks (which may never be heard), one senses these versions have undergone quite a bit of electronic fucking-around to sound like they do on the album.
Ah, but what about the man himself? Where is Momus in all of this? He�s here, in all his obscure witty glory, and his new musical musings lean toward the absurdist side. "Is it Because I�m a Pirate?" follows the thoughts of a pirate who�s been stood up for a date, but he is prepared to wait. "Scottish Lips" pleads that a lover have feelings for more than a certain facial characteristic, while the narrator of "A Lapdog" reflects and regrets sending a girl to Antarctica out of jealousy toward her cute little pet. "The Last Communist" sounds like an ad for the communist party done by the Pet Shop Boys, and features a few jabs at American politics ("You're writing up the budget and you're purchasing supplies/It's always someone else's turn to die"). As for "My Sperm Is Not Your Enemy", well, use your imagination.
The title track tells the story of a Tati-esque uncle�s slapstick adventure through an ultra-modern world, but this is one track that seems to get buried by the reproduction. Listening to it, I sometimes wish there was a button on my stereo that could turn off the cluttered electronic noise. "Multiplying Love" begins with the potential to become a clever modern love song in the tradition of Momus�s classic "I Want You But I Don�t Need You", but gets devoured by effects and static before ending at a little over a minute, as if he�s afraid of becoming too relative. "Electrosexual Sewing Machine" is one of the songs that finds perfect balance as both musicians� talents dance a dark, foreboding waltz to lyrics rooted in the surreal. The other highlight of the album can be found in "The Laird of Iversnecky", a delightful vaudevillian tune sung with Scottish flavor, and an instant Momus classic.
Some fans argue that since his 1997 album Ping Pong, Momus has become more of a novelty act than an expressive musician. Indeed, The Little Red Songbook, Stars Forever, and Folktronic were all conceptual, each album produced with cheesy hardware and exploring a musical idea. Oskar Tennis Champion sees Momus, this time without solid concept, returning to where he left off with Ping Pong, but we must keep in mind that 6 years have passed. He has since moved beyond the indie-pop territory of exorcising inner demons and commenting on the more taboo aspects of society. His new musical concepts and inspirations are more abstract visions that exist only inside his head, interpretations of whatever obscure brain food he�s discovered in the past couple years. His official move into the genre of electronica has only further depersonalized the man and allowed for the music (and his collaborator) to do 50% of the talking.
Oskar Tennis Champion is an interesting, absurd, richly-textured album that invites us to take a seat in the bubbling hot tub of the electronic avant-garde, but we just can�t help asking: "Momus, where�s the heart?" B
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