September 3, 2009


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Sally Shapiro, My Guilty Pleasure
Paper Bag Records, Aug. 25

Oh Sally, get out of our faces with the fumbled sub-genre names already — “Cosmic disco” my patoot, just call it what it is: house music sung by a glazy-eyed twee chick. “Cosmic disco,” by the by, not that you care, and you shouldn’t, was named after an Italian club, and is personified by lots of tribal percussion (none of that here, at all, ever) and funk/Brazilian/yadda-yadda. But belay trying to fix the world, the stuff itself here isn’t bad, especially if you’re keen on the notion of Kylie Minogue reinvented as a sexless space-cadet, you know, PJ Harvey but with more pills. And with, say, Armand Van Helden or somesuch Euro-house middlemind superstar-DJ tabling the beats, to wit “Love in July,” pure poolside bliss comprising a 4-note important-sounding chill-riff that helps the rich kids remember their Ibiza jaunts. There’s a bit of pretty good IDM here as well, and more good tuneage, pound for pound, than you’ll find on any big-DJ artist album; dismissing this as house, which most everyone will — is a disservice. But then again, taking into account Sally’s dreadfully generic vocal style and stripping out the useless stuff, such as their Madonna ripoff (“Save Your Love”), threatens to leave them as fodder for the great remix machine in the club-land sky. B+ —Eric W. Saeger