The Noise Made By People (LP)

A look at the music history book tells us a lot of things. One of these is that nearly everything from the past eventually comes back, and with a vengeance. While this undeniable truth is responsible for a lot of distinctly horrible things (house that relies on disco samples), it also contributes to some of the most mind-boggling, and often enlightening, stylistic combinations.

The UK sextet Broadcast are not the first to marry electronic music's underlying futuristic bend with elements of film noir and classic torch song writing. One can't help but make the Portishead comparisons, what with the icy detached cool of vocalist Trish Keenan and the unhurried, slightly blunted beats. But where Portishead's prevailing mood contained a sense of doom and that of staring across a chasm toward some unattainable happiness, Broadcast are much less about burying their music in your psyche and more about beaming it at you from somewhere in outer space. There's also a lot more layers to get lost in here, whereas the Portisfolks made you concentrate on the meaning of every well-placed speck of sound in the stark spaces they created.

While the soft-focus, hazy atmosphere is the result of modern technology in the studio, the music isn't content to fall back on it. In fact, the band roster would even like every doubter to realize that they're indeed a band and not just a talented bunch of egghead producers. Yes, there's a bassist, there's a guitarist, and there's even a real drummer. While the deadly precision of the samples-and-sequences method of making music has its merits, the approach could not achieve the chilling organic qualities that Broadcast exudes. There's a prevailing sense of definite vision, but not one of the product being excessively labored over. Sure, there's craft at work here, but whereas most albums recorded over long periods of time sound weary and defeated in the final analysis, The Noise Made by People is positively vibrant and alive.
-Pitchfork

Though it's slightly disconcerting to hear sounds like this without being floored by a sense of daring and originality, it's a testament to the explosion of genre-bending music that was the underground's biggest artistic accomplishment in the 1990's. Broadcast one-ups the avant leanings of most of these juxtaposition-experimenting acts by making these advances work in the context of memorable pop songs. Sure, there are precious few limbs-aloft choruses here, but I challenge even the most pop-hating avant-o-phile to not warble along with Keenan through the lovely melodic hooks of "Come On Let's Go" and "Look Outside."

Special praise must be given to the band for the sonic imprint here. Drums are cyclonic washes of lovely pattering and lovelier noise. Guitars chunk away purposefully as often as they slide on single note lines through the background ether. Strings and keyboards evoke sublime visions of soundtracks to old films as well as those yet to be realized.

But for all the sound and song, Broadcast's vision seems relatively narrow, and several ideas are spread a bit too thinly across the album's length. The band obviously have the talent and the means. Now perhaps, with the doubters silenced and the integrity assured by this release, they can explore some other avenues on future releases.