World of Hassle

Few artists are as skilled at conjuring nostalgia in thought-provoking ways as Alan Palomo. As Neon Indian, he shaped the way chillwave blurred the boundaries between past, present, coolness, and kitsch. World of Hassle, his first album under his own name, plays with similar concepts, but the execution is different enough to justify the change in moniker. Borrowing the polished wit of Im Your Man-era Leonard Cohen and Steely Dan and the equally sophisticated sounds of Bobby Caldwell and Japanese city pop, Palomo delivers songs that are more playful, and more literal, than his previous work. Like Neon Indians music and chillwave as a whole, World of Hassles simulations of late-80s and early-90s slickness evoke obsolete technology. The grooves and instrumentation bounce and ripple like vintage screensavers, while "Alibi for Petra" could soundtrack a late-night telephone hotline commercial. As a solo artist, however, Palomo renders his homages with crystalline accuracy. "Club People"s sleek, funky love letter to city pop could appear on one of the Pacific Breeze compilations. The 80s sophisti-pop tropes on "Nobodys Woman" -- a loping reggae beat, cascading electric piano melodies, heroic doses of sax -- are impeccably crafted. The hyper-detailed worlds Palomo creates on each track are just as specific. On "La Meurtriere," LImperatrices Flore Benguigui becomes a Europop femme fatale as the song dances on the line between glamorous and tacky. Mac DeMarco appears on "Nudista Mundial 89," an electro-tropical dream so immersive "its a state of mind," and Palomo himself takes the spotlight on "The Return of Mickey Milan," a glittery tribute to "the dream weaver for the power pop believers." This cheeky self-awareness is the biggest difference between the music of Alan Palomo and Neon Indian. Like the rest of World of Hassle, the humor is geekily precise. World of Hassles best moments find the realness within the shiny facades. "The Wailing Mall" is Palomos clearest tribute to Cohen, juxtaposing slickly commercial sounds and subversive lyrics ("Good luck trying to leave an endless sprawl in the U.S. of A") in a clever union of style and substance. He extends the metaphor of "Is There Nightlife After Death?" with wistful beauty, imagining an after-hours heaven populated with sleeping angels and streetwalker stars. ~ Heather Phares