It wasn't long before fans were claiming that this vocally anti-capitalistic group had sold out, pointing to the hypocrisy of vocalist Laetitia Sadier's railing against corporations such as IBM. Of course, Stereolab doesn't care what you think, as long as they can get you thinking. And as Tim Gane, Stereolab's co-founder and chief songwriter, says, everyone has to pay what they owe.
"We do music -- like LPs and lots of music -- which is basically for free for friends and labels, and occasionally we have to do music for commercial reasons," Gane replies, via phone from Bordeaux, France. "I don't have a problem with it. I think in America there seems to be a problem, but not anywhere else. It's just understood here. I never would do anything which would inhibit our control of what we do. We never would change something for an external reason like that. That must be completely understood. It's just an advert; it doesn't mean anything. It has no artistic value, the only value it has is that it enables us to pay some debt or buy something for the band."
This dedication to self-government is what makes Stereolab special. The group has persistently pumped out bright, quirky, socially conscious albums, releasing nine LPs (and dozens of EPs, split singles, and compilation appearances) since its formation in 1991. The band signed to a major label, Elektra Records, circa 1993, but also continues to run its own label, Duophonic, which releases music from Stereolab side-projects and other lesser-known UK bands.
Gane reaffirms that Stereolab's affiliation with Elektra has not eroded the band's creative integrity. "We've never done anything different by the fact that we're on a major label," Gane defends. "Every record is as we would have done it no matter what. The idea that suddenly millions of people are going to start buying your records is crap."
There's little chance that millions of people will suddenly start buying Stereolab's latest, the recently released Cobra and Phases Group Plays Voltage in the Milky Night. Compared with most of the major-label detritus spewed out to the masses these days, Cobra is a breath of fresh air. However, when placed alongside Stereolab's previous efforts, it's just a little stale. Listening to it is sort of like reheating last night's rather tasty stew only to find it congealed and chewy.
The problem is that Stereolab's prize-winning formula has been one of innovation -- call it aural quilt-work. They've extracted the best from such divergent forms as jazz, Kraut-rock, bossa nova, French lounge, drum 'n' bass, and post-rock and patched them into unusually engaging musical mosaics. Yet there's just not much innovation on Cobra, nothing the band hasn't done better before. Gane says the group's style has always been a hit-and-miss proposition.
"They were simple observations to see how we could create something new by the activity of juxtaposition," Gane says, referring to his songwriting process. "I just have a mind that when I hear something, I hear the possibility of doing something within that in a new context, in a new environment. I suppose we were one of the first to do certain things that now have a more musical currency in the '90s, but I'm not interested in accepting credit or congratulations. They were just explorations. Sometimes you hear something new, sometimes you don't. Obviously it's better when you do."
That very sentiment holds true in the case of Cobra. Not that the album isn't good -- it's a highly listenable collection of typical Stereolab songs -- it's just not trailblazing in the Stereolab sense of the word. For years the pop auteurs have built songs from conflict, joining contrasting sounds, ideas, and words. The vocal sweetness of Mary Hansen and Sadier coupled with lyrical socialist diatribe that cuts to the bone, or tinkling marimba atop the buzzing, raw sound of an analog synthesizer -- these are the contrapositions that make Stereolab albums interesting to listen to and fun as ever to dissect and debate.
Gane reflects on this very intentional way of challenging the group's listeners. "I always liked the way the words and music interact in a really uncontrived way," he says. "Sometimes they work very well, sometimes they're awkward. That's the way I like it. I don't like things to be contrived. Some people have more of a problem because most music that's of a political content, or anti-establishment content, tends to be coupled with certain types of music or a certain approach. Because ours isn't, it's a bit confusing. But I like confusion. I like contradictions in music. They're very important in music."