Sifting for Gold in Pitchfork's Year-End Lists: Pt. 2

Empire of the Sun - "Walking on a Dream"



First things first:



Intensely tongue-piercing-cheek irony or outrageously overreaching numb-to-taste delirium? I mean this cover so completely screams EXCESS!!! that it looks more and more earnest and sincere the more I look at it, in a "Hey! Let's capture all of the awesomeness of a thousand epic movie posters on a single album cover! AWESOME!" sort of way. See this video, where you can see those costumes from the cover in full motion (quick summary: two coked-out looking dudes mugging for the camera in Shanghai, China[?!?]), and this interview for further evidence on that question.

So I was surprised to find that the title track (Pitchfork's #96) of this album, which I was expecting to be some symphony-bursting, over-produced mess (the aural equivalent of the poster's blockbuster movie-fest I guess) is such a tight, tight, lovely, sighing little piece of 80's-derived pop music. In fact, it's the incredible leanness of the song that is one of the biggest factors contributing to its success. The thing simply sounds effortless.

Note the opening descending cloud-like synthesizer melody, the brief bursts of one-note vocals that open the verse melody, the insistent, yet understated chiming guitar that underpins the entire song and subtly shifts its pattern at appropriate moments.

"Walking on a Dream" sounds like the product of innumerable, ruthless editing sessions, like what emerges after attempting to take out as many extraneous sections as possible until what is left is as direct and succinct a pop song as possible. As they say, it takes a lot of work to make something look that effortless.

There's also something so winning to me about vocalist Luke Steele's performance, the way he petulantly open mouths some words ("how can i explain"), the little quirks of pronunciation he brings throughout the song.

One of my favorite moments is the mini-bridge, when the percussion drops out and a disembodied voice, sounding distant and scratchy, almost like a sample, sings "catch me I'm falling down", partially accompanied by another voice further up in the mix. It's a lovely little moment of semi-repose and wistfulness that provides a touch of emotional resonance in the midst of the song's coasting joy, and it exemplifies the subtle detail and craft all over this song, cheese-bomb cover and coked-out video be damned.