Ratatat

Ratatat's self-titled debut was a polarizing album. For everyone I knew that loved it, there was someone ready to condemn them for being a silly novelty act. I personally embraced their simple electronic instrumentals, fit for a 1986 Nintendo game, but I could definitely understand some of the backlash. After living with that first album for a couple of years, I don't find myself wanting to listen to more than one or two of the songs in a row. Listening to the whole album is like eating pop rocks and microwave popcorn for dinner. It's definitely enjoyable once in awhile, but... You get the idea. So possibly the gimmick wore thin?

I'm happy to report that Classics grabbed hold of me the same way Ratatat's debut album did. Evan Mast and Mike Stroud have a unique way of blending synthesized beats and electric guitars to create what can best be described as the soundtrack to a digital life. The songs can have the weight and story arc or a rock song ("Montanita"), but at other times, like the stellar "Wildcat," Ratatat are just a couple of goofballs showing off. But when all the electronic shenanigans are swept away, at core these are good pop songs -- "Tropicana" could easily be a Paul McCartney melody.

It will be interesting to see if they'll be able to keep this fresh for a third album. And I'm sure we'll all grow a little tired of Ratatat's songs as they are presumably already slotted to help peddle iPods and underwear. But let's just enjoy Classics for what it is -- some of the most fun music you'll hear this year. - Doug Kamin

There's something strangely melancholic about Ratatat's sophomore record, Classics. Something that rests behind the dancey drum machine beats and the quirky synths, or even the alternating guitars. Outwardly it's a fun album, triumphant and full of majestic refrains and riffs -- you could play it for your indie rock friends if you wanted to get them to dance a little and were too afraid to play Daft Punk or Juan Atkins -- but there's still something in it, introspection gracenoted between the intricate (but never too ornate or over-complicated or even lush) instrument layers and classical arpeggios, contemplation sitting in bittersweet descents and acoustic guitar chords, French cinema- and IDM-induced reflection, that makes it somehow all very sad. It's music for the soundtrack of a film in which even though the sky is clear -- there is sun, an open road perhaps -- the characters have difficulty smiling. Even the more "upbeat" songs, "Lex," "Tropicana," or "Wildcat," for example, never completely shed their pensive skins, rub off the dirt that smudges their bellies and faces. Classics is a record that demands a bit of attention, something to assure it that you hear each phrase, each contradiction, each sound as it enters and leaves. Something to assure it that you know the spaces in which little happens are as important as those that are full. There are no solos here: just the comings and goings of thoughts and feelings and sounds, and though there is a circularity to the album, it's not boring; rather it just allows time for everything that Ratatat are trying to convey to manifest itself fully. Through its subtlety, Classics celebrates the nature and resilience of the human spirit while simultaneously acknowledging its defects, everything and anything you could ever ask an album to be, and nothing more, which is just enough. ~ Marisa Brown, All Music Guide