Beaucoup Fish
A few years back, Underworld were viewed as one of the most important bridging links between the mediums of rock and dance. Album number two Second Toughest In The Infants had consolidated their enviable position as darlings of the rock press, and 'Born Slippy' had blown up the mainstream following its inclusion on the Trainspotting soundtrack.
Mark Kavanagh
A few years back, Underworld were viewed as one of the most important bridging links between the mediums of rock and dance. Album number two Second Toughest In The Infants had consolidated their enviable position as darlings of the rock press, and 'Born Slippy' had blown up the mainstream following its inclusion on the Trainspotting soundtrack.
One lengthy sabbatical later and the Essex boys return with the first of this year's really big dance albums - Orbital, The Chemical Brothers and Leftfield follow imminently - and the first question I find myself asking is does this album tell us the bridge between rock and dance has now been built and it's time to move on?
Emerson, Hyde and Smith would seem to think so. The most prominent influences on Beaucoup Fish are house, trance and techno; the next most obvious inspiration early eighties synth-pop - Darren's DJ career and Karl and Rick's somewhat less credible past as New Romantic synth band Freur now laid bare and bonding beautifully. The end result is the most honest and complete Underworld opus yet.
With the lengthy and deeply throbbing opener 'Cups', the spunky industrial beats of 'Bruce Lee', the old skool piano-driven 'Push Upstairs', the driving Giorgio Moroder-esque rhythms of club smash 'Shudder/King Of Snake', and so much more besides, Beaucoup Fish could put a smile on the face of even the most devoted Tricky fan. The familiar jack-hammer techno rhythms and demented drums are now polished and perfected on 'Kittens' and 'Moaner' (featured previously in Batman Forever), and the phrase 'the dog's bollocks' springs to mind.
Scoring soundtracks is in their blood, and on 'Skym' and 'Push Downstairs' the trio's obviously Eno inspired cinematic tendencies come into play and provide what some might consider welcome light relief. Here, as throughout the album, Karl's devilish psycho-babbling mirrors the music's new maturity. Nowhere is this more obvious than on the heart-warming 'Jumbo', when he lives out an old New Romantic's dream and becomes Bryan Ferry for seven minutes.
Beaucoup Fish is proof positive that, twelve years since the birth of House, dance music still holds the most promise for the future. Did I hear somebody say 'Rock Is Dead'?
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