[review 2005: the best of the year]

Broadcast is very good at making themselves scarce; with every album, there’s the nagging concern that the CD you hold in your hands may very well be the last Broadcast release you ever hold. The pattern is the same every time: in the three years between 1997’s Work and Non-Work and the low-key psychedelic nightmare of The Noise Made By People, there was barely a word from the Broadcast camp, leading a lot of fans to believe the band had broken up. After the 2000 release, Broadcast played a few shows in North America before returning to Britain, cutting their ties to U.S. distributor Tommy Boy, and disappearing for another three years. Haha Sound, the lush stereophonic spectacular to Noise’s radio transmission echo, was a revelation when it finally appeared. Dogged for years by comparisons to Stereolab that never quite seemed to fit, Haha Sound was the album that should’ve put all the comparisons to rest. The bubbly 21st century bossa nova motif Stereolab was plying bore little resemblance to the reverb-heavy electronic noir. Broadcast was anything but airy lightness; even the poppiest songs on Haha Sound, like “Before We Begin” and “Lunch Hour Pops,” tread a fine line between alluring and menacing. Occasionally difficult but ultimately rewarding, the album became Broadcast’s high-water mark. But then Broadcast pulled their traditional disappearing act, leaving us to wonder what they’d do for an encore.

By this year, the answer was clear: replace the drummer with a drum machine, pare the band down to a duo, and forget the lush psychedelic atmospherics. Tender Buttons is a different affair from Haha Sound in more ways than one. “I Found The F,” the first track, is misleading; sounds like a real drummer, doesn’t it? But it’s also the track that veers closest to Broadcast’s old material, as if the band had decided to ease you into the pool instead of tossing you in all at once. “Black Cat” throws in the drum machine, and suddenly you get the full effect of the new sound. Broadcast was once very good at communicating a sense of space through their music, whether it was claustrophobia (the eerie “Until Then” from Noise) or a tunnel-like hollowness (”Man Is Not A Bird” from Haha Sound.). But on Tender Buttons Broadcast largely destroys your sense of space through the use of buzzy, distorted electronic paraphernalia. Everything flattens out; on first listen, it leaves an oddly limp impression. It takes some work to find the melodies through the static; it’s the musical equivalent of trying to make out naked breasts on scrambled pay-per-view porn.

The process of acclimation starts slowly. “Tears in the Typing Pool” is a standout track; it’s just singer Trish Keenan and an acoustic guitar for the most part. By the by, Trish Keenan is an important reason why Broadcast works; though her vocals are often unadorned and frigid, she remains the thread of humanity that weaves through the tapestry. And when she doesn’t pull her punches and displays the full effect of her talents, like on this track, it’s chillingly beautiful. From there, other songs start to slowly open up. The title track is another delicious slice of low-key electronic noodling, with Keenan in a breathy, deadpan kind of mood. “Michael A Grammar” is a perky, upbeat burst of synthesizers and canned beats. “You And Me In Time” is the big brother to “Until Then,” another minor-key exercise in emotional discomfort that ends up being strangely comforting. It’s not long before you realize Tender Buttons isn’t all that different from Broadcast’s previous albums. And yet it’s clear Broadcast have moved beyond their old retro-futurism, tied as it was to a specific place and time. An exciting time for Broadcast, and an album that is, in the final equation, the equal of Haha Sound.