Ratatat Albums (4)
What The Critics Say
On Ratatat's first two albums, the duo of Mike Stroud (guitar) and Evan Mast (programming/various instruments) developed a unique sound. Lodged in the sweet spot between hard rock (spiraling dual-guitar leads, crunching beats) and bedroom electronica (squirmy synths and lots of lo-fi invention), they crafted memorable songs with soaring melodies and huge hooks. On LP3 the duo has kept its unique guitar sound and the hooks but made a few subtle changes. They rely more on live drums and percussion throughout, but more important to the feel of the record is the use of a wide range of keyboards like piano, Mellotron, Wurlitzer, and harpsichord. Thanks to this more organic approach and the laid-back nature of many of the songs themselves, LP3 strikes an interesting balance between the late-night jams perfectly suited for driving abandoned city streets they are known for, like "Mirando" and "Shempi" on one hand, and fragile ballads like "Shiller" and "Black Heroes" on the other. It makes for a slightly fuller listening experience, only slightly because past albums weren't exactly one-dimensional, but still more fleshed-out and varied. Certainly the duo has never made a track as sticky sweet and summery as "Bruleé," and Ratatat haven't used acoustic guitars before as they do on the majestic "Mi Viejo." The short tracks (the Spaghetti western-inspired "Flynn" and cute music box melody "Gipsy Threat") that pop up as slightly corny interludes are a nice new touch, too. In the end, though, the record isn't that big a departure. Tracks like the sharp-as-a-sword "Mirando" and "Falcon Jab" would have fit right in on either of their previous albums, and the trademark Ratatat sound overlays the entire record. Instead of changing their sound to accommodate a wider palette of sounds, they wisely chose to incorporate them into their aesthetic. It's an inspired move that will help them keep their old fans and still allow the duo to progress musically. ~ Tim Sendra, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
During the latter half of the 2000s, laptop DJ Girl Talk nabbed most of the hipsterati's peripheral curiosity for commercial hip-hop via clever cross-genre mash-ups. But the Brooklyn-based electro duo of guitarist Mike Stroud and synth-man/producer Evan Mast, aka Ratatat, scored the indie underground's most successful appropriation of mainstream rap with the self-released, and hard to come by, Remixes, Vol. 2. Predominant credit belongs to Mast, because Remixes plays out less like an arbitrary mixtape or legally questionable lifting of previously recorded material than a true producer's album, studded with willing guest stars (Notorious B.I.G., Jay-Z, Saigon, Kanye West, T.I., etc.) who slide egolessly into the duo's vision. That being said, it's Stroud who ultimately imbues the LP with its soul and playful spirit, his guitar sliding through Jay-Z and B.I.G.'s verses on "Allure" with psychedelic blues that evoke a warped 45. Abridged freestyles by Beans and Despot may represent the only fizzled moments in the album's otherwise cohesive chemistry, but as a breather from all the braggadocio, they hold your interest with greater rapture than, say, self-indulgently performed skits. Elsewhere, West's mega-hit "Diamonds" was too massive a target for reinterpretation, and is ultimately better served in its original rendition. But there may have been no more transcendent remix anywhere in 2007 than Ratatat's quintessentially Day-Glo tribute to the joyously boastful legacy of B.I.G. on "Party & Bullshit." ~ Kenny Herzog, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
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
What The Critics Say
Further blurring the boundaries between electronic music and rock, Ratatat's self-titled debut album mixes Evan Mast's fractured but propulsive beats and woozy analog synths with Mike Stroud's loud, yet somehow subtle, guitars. Come to think of it, "loud yet subtle" neatly sums up the instrumental duo's approach -- while their sound can pack a formidable punch, it's also atmospheric. Often, the duo is both aggressive and atmospheric within one song, as on the album's opening track, "Seventeen Years": It begins as a dancefloor stormer, with in-the-red guitars and keyboards and a beat that sounds like it's gasping for air, until an analog synth-driven breakdown turns it into something more moody and bedroom-bound. More laid-back than dance-punk but livelier than post-rock, Ratatat's shuffling rhythms and pensive keyboards clearly owe a debt to Mast's work as E*vax, but other influences pop up too. Comparisons have been made to Daft Punk, and for the most part, they're justified; with its busy guitars, much of Ratatat plays like an indie spin on "Aerodynamic" from Daft Punk's Discovery, albeit with a slightly less arch feel. The bittersweet naïveté that floats through the album also recalls a more roughed-up version of Plone's nursery rhyme electronica, particularly on "Cherry," the sleepy epic that closes Ratatat and pays tribute to the band's former name. A slight hip-hop vibe also pops up from time to time, most clearly on "Crips"' insistent bass and rattling beat, but also in the spoken word interludes that dot the album. Often, Ratatat's music is deceptively simple; in particular, Mast's beats are more interesting and intricate than they sound at first. They sound uniquely live, but their clicking, stuttering rhythms are definitely electronic and would be difficult, if not impossible, for a live drummer to produce. "Everest" features a particularly well-crafted beat that pops in and out of the guitar'n'synth mayhem atop it, making the song (and the rest of the album, for that matter) good for close listening as well as background music. Songs like "Desert Eagle," "Lapland," and "Breaking Away" sound oddly cheerful and melancholy at the same time, and help create a consistent mood on Ratatat -- a mood that may be too consistent over the course of a full-length album. Individually, each song on the album sounds fantastic, and each song is crafted for maximum tension and release. But, as winning as the group's formula is, there isn't much variation in it, which detracts from the album as a whole. A few songs break the mold a bit: "Bustelo" adds elements of new wave and soul, "Spanish Armada" has some hints of aptly Spanish-sounding guitar, and "Germany to Germany" has some rounded synths that recall German brass, not to mention rousing guitars that are enough to induce a Big Country flashback. But just because Ratatat sounds a little samey doesn't mean that the album isn't good; it is. The band's sound is both fresh and nostalgic, and so pretty that it seems overly harsh to criticize them too much at this point. It's just that Ratatat is good enough to suggest that, with a little more diversity, the group could do even better things. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
