Daft Punk’s appeal is hard to describe. Like Kraftwerk before them, their robotic techno grates as much as it soothes, pushing away many a listener. And yet they truly are appealing to huge numbers of people – just ask anyone who’s been to an indie dance party sometime in the last ten years. If you go to a party that plays “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” and don’t end the night in someone else’s pants, then you can safely assume that something cosmic has gone terribly wrong.
Now, in 2006, the daring French duo have finally decided to release a compilation. Spanning twelve years of sweaty pop, “Musique, Vol. 1: 1993-1995” gives a wonderful sense of what is right about techno. While at its best, the record makes us yearn for a happier version of the future-world depicted in “I, Robot,” buried in the years covered are albums we’d rather forget. So, in the end, we can’t help but judge this a fun but spotty record.
At its absolute height of heights, the band recorded unforgettable singles, some that have stayed in dance clubs for well over a decade. “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” has found its way into the head of every hipster with a reputation and a libido. “Musique” reminds us that repetition lies at the center of all good pop, thumping and thumping away. “Robot Rock,” the lone memorable track from 2005 train wreck “Human After All,” attempts in vain to excuse their recent crimes, and early single “Da Funk” tries a similar feat to the past.
If one considers only the songs sandwiched between these few, however, the album falls apart. “One More Time” starts with a cybernetic call to arms that never provides a battle, “Rollin’ and Scratchin’” ends and begins with the same monotonous fuzz, providing variety only in volume, while “Something About Us” sounds completely out of place on any dance record, an awkward stab at funk that inspires not slow-dancing but head-scratching. These choices sound even more like filler here than they did on the original vinyl – when you place them next to their louder, brawnier brethren, these lesser singles wilt and shrink in their shadows.
The only songs that straddle these extremes are at the end: three remixes that neither offend nor excite in a serious way, but only strengthen Daft Punk’s image as a band that has mastered a narrow sound. When three completely different songs end up sounding so completely similar, Daft Punk’s failings and strengths as a band come clearly into focus. They can produce amazing music, provided the music they want to produce is a seamless mix of Krautrock and 90s-era house. Whenever they stray, however, they simply botch it up, and as “Human After All” proves, they might never return to their roots. We might have already seen the end of memorable Daft Punk.
If you are seriously considering buying this record – probably in hopes of discovering dance music for nerds – then I can’t turn it down as a good representation of Daft Punk’s career as a whole. At the same time, as a Daft Punk fan I urge you: don’t buy this. Buy “Homework.” Buy “Discovery.” Buy the apex of their careers, not this ten-year mash-up. Buy the albums that shot some life into hipsters’ skinny hips. Trust me – you won’t regret it.
Rating: 6.5/10
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