If the internet had an in-house band it might sound a little like Superorganism, a globally disparate indie pop collective whose expansive cut’n’paste musical MO reflects the utopian possibility of the online dream, minus the tarnished reality of toxic social media and fake news. Superorganism are a refreshingly modern band, one who bonded over Skype and live in a DIY studio / HQ in East London where they produce music via email, passing files back and forth like a manically inspired game of tennis. More importantly, Superorganism’s sound is a hugely accomplished reflection of the present, a magpie-friendly collage of pop that is reminiscent of the Avalanches, the Go! Team or Beck at his most light-hearted, dragged into a world where Instagram Stories have replaced dusty vinyl scratches as cultural currency.
Such a flexible approach to composition could have resulted in a sound that is closer to the smoldering chaos of free jazz than danceable indie pop. But Superorganism’s deliciously listenable debut album balances chaos with cohesion thanks to recurring musical motifs in the form of billowing guitar riffs, big choruses, and detuned synths, adorned by an ever-changing array of noises, samples, and effects. The musical beds of “Everybody Wants to be Famous” and “Something for Your M.I.N.D.” are offset by the noise of a cash register, a wheedling G-funk riff, a Champagne cork popping, vocal hooks from C’hantal’s rave classic “The Realm,” and what sounds like someone chomping down on vegetables.
While such detail is enchanting, Superorganism’s eclectic approach might sound a little too kooky over the course of an album were it not for Orono Noguchi’s fantastically world-weary vocals. The singer has said she listened to Pavement while recording the album and you can hear this in her vocal delivery and the songs’ laconic melodies: the resigned melancholy of “Reflections on the Screen” and the longing of “Nai’s March” are particularly reminiscent of Stephen Malkmus, in an album that swims with his influence. Far from being a simple ’90s throwback, however, Superorganism suggests Pavement filtered through James Blake’s kaleidoscopic musical lens and given a crash course in modern pop production, wrapped up in beats that nod to Daft Punk’s minimal funk. This unlikely fusion reaches its apotheosis on the brilliant “Nobody Cares,” a kind of grunge-pop-EDM fusion that captures 2018’s occasional air of weary stoicism in much the same way that Beck’s “Loser” did for the pointed laziness of the early ’90s.
Noguchi’s taciturn vocal style makes Superorganism’s music sound effortless, as if she dreamed up the songs between scrolling through her phone and waiting for her morning coffee. But this belies the incredible care and attention that has gone into creating this album. Bar the rather lackluster “Night Time,” the songwriting is pin-sharp throughout, matching well-observed lyrical detail like “Awkward kids putting gel into their greasy hair” (on “Nobody Cares”) with hooky and often heart-rending melodies that suggest a firm musical hand on the tiller. The production, meanwhile, is awash with tiny sonic detail, like the way the sound abruptly drops out during the chorus of “Something for Your M.I.N.D.,” leaving the listener hanging for half a beat in delicious expectation, or the CD stutter vocal effect on “It’s All Good.”
Perversely, Superorganism’s attention to detail also results in one of this album’s minor frustrations. Superorganism create fascinating visual worlds in home-made videos for tracks like “It’s All Good” and “Nobody Cares,” while their image-conscious live show sees the eight-strong group operate in matching raincoats. It feels almost a shame, then, to listen to these songs removed from their expanded sensory context. But this is a minor gripe for an album that confirms Superorganism as that rarest and most wonderful of all musical beasts: a guitar band that reflects the age we are living in by embracing the technological anarchy of the modern world, as well as their own glorious peculiarities.
