Le Hammond Inferno – My First Political Dance Album

Le Hammond Inferno
My First Political Dance Album

My First Political Dance Album starts off with “Intro: Control Towers,” in which a voice from a “control tower” imparts mission directives to a bomber airplane, instructing the receiver to bomb and destroy such record labels as City Slang, Emperor Norton, Ninja Tune, Grand Royal, and even Bungalow itself. Evidently the mission was successful in regards to the Beastie Boys’ old vanity label; too bad the bomber missed the target when he tried to take out Bungalow’s German headquarters. The two men who run Bungalow, Holger and Marcus (or Beier and Liesenfeld, if you wish to call them by their surnames), also comprise Le Hammond Inferno, and if their own work is indicative of the sort of music they release on their label, then perhaps the world would be a better place had that bomb nestled itself deep within the bosom of Bungalow’s offices.
Let me admit a vital piece of information right now: I am totally unqualified to review a record like this, for I detest most electro-dance music. Yep, I hate Peaches, can’t stand Felix da House-Cat, and when the local college radio stations do their interminable all-night electro dance parties I leave the dial on the classic rock station, thank you very much. I’d rather hear “Tuesday’s Gone With the Wind” for the ten-billionth time than even a minute of this sort of stuff. Yes, I have an extremely low tolerance for cheesy electro-dance pop, especially when it’s European, and this record rockets past my threshold about one minute and thirty-six seconds into track two, “Move Your MP-3.”
This song starts off inoffensively, sounding like something that you’d hear on some old ’80’s “wacky” comedy like “Short Circuit.” At that 1:36 mark, however, fuckin’ La Tour-style vocals come in with an utterly ridiculous little semi-rap about finding lust in a goddamned web café, and immediately my button-pushing finger (“ol’ pushy”) thrusts out toward the eject key. I mean, do you remember that awful “People Are Still Having Sex” song? With some Euro-trash sounding dick ominously speaking those terrible lyrics over a half-assed techno-lite backdrop? Change the music to sub-New Orderisms (the 12-inch remix singles not their pop stuff) and swap out the AIDS lyrics with truly insipid nonsense about mp3s and Photoshop and downloading ladies directly onto a “floppy drive.” Then go flip your lawn mower on its back, rev up the engine, and stick your head in the whirling blades, because even that is better than listening to this song ever again.
Alright, so the rest of the record isn’t nearly as horrible as “Move Your MP-3,” and I’m sure a lot of you out there would and do enjoy this type of stuff. This is just one bitter old man’s opinion, sure, but it’s a valid opinion, even if I have reacted a bit harshly. Le Hammond Inferno have made an utterly mindless record that is totally devoid of emotion, energy, and even life. There is nothing fun about this record, nor is their anything interesting or entertaining about it.