It’s hard to revisit and re-review a tape you’ve already done, which is
the case for me with The Dictaphone, a swell post-punk outfit from France. I’ve
spent many an hour poring over the words I wanted to spill upon them and their
super cool release Tp Hss, which is
extra super cool because all traces of vowels have been removed from the title
(take that, you stupid vowels!). Those words coalesced into a godlike falcon
creature that became a review at Critical Masses. Do I want to take that time
again? No. Am I going to revisit The Dictaphone because I liked them the first
time around? Hell to the yes.
But first, why don’t you wander memory lane a little bit and take a
gander at those deliberately
crafted odes I originally penned? I was in a particularly patriotic mood
that day, apparently.
Are the beats still sparse, the low end still heavy, the high end cloaked
in effects? You betcha. I feel the same amount of cynicism oozing from the tape
reels as I did the first time. Suicide, A-Frames, Joy Division, all make
appearances as spectral inspirations for The Dictaphone. The band churns out
nihilistic anthems in a workmanlike fashion, but ropes you in to the
proceedings with a sinister catchiness that’s impossible to ignore. Imagine The
Dictaphone at the forefront of the decline of Western civilization, ushering in
a grand new era while we eat it up like monkeys who are super hungry for
banana-flavored social change. In the words of the illustrious Padmé Amidala, “So
this is how liberty dies... with thunderous
applause.” I’m clapping my ass off.
--Ryan Masteller
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