‘House of Melancholy’ is the second full-length album from Parisian duo Andrew Claristidge & Richard d’Alpert, and has been produced by Joakim. The Frenchman’s presence is an important one as ‘House of Melancholy’ hasn’t just been cobbled together with some sample packs from Demonoid. No no no, that would be incongruous to the whole album’s concept, it’s an album in the traditional sense. It’s clear that it has been laboured over for a long time, like and album should be.
The opening salvo pretty much gives you an entire snap shot of the album’s contents in one 4 minute track. It has everything from bleak sci-fi undertones to melodies that could have easily been lifted out of Kraftwerk’s ‘Robots’, as duo they ramp up the excitement with waves and waves of ‘werkian synths over wigged-out drum solos for a near perfect start to the album.
‘Fire N Rain’ is a perfect counter to such a gun-ho start; it’s a neon-clad funk number, backed by a really solid vocal. For us, where ‘House of Melancholy’ really succeeds is when it manages to find the balance between light and dark, and while tracks like ‘Golem’s Dance’ are uplifting, there’s always that sense there are darker undertones at play. At its heart ‘House of Melancholy’ is probably a lot darker than your average electronic album. But arguably that’s where it shines brightest for the most part. One of many breathe taking moments comes from ‘Prince Aid’; it’s like a alternate theme song for War of The Worlds. It’s so powerful it’s like you’re listening to Skynet jamming out on a synthesiser, with the resulting song sounding like a missing track from Sasha’s ‘Airdrawndagger’ – it’s that good.
By the halfway mark ‘House of Melacholy’ has made quite an impression, though, it’s not finished yet. Naturally you’re going to need a counter to this futuristic bleakness. And unfortunately that’s where ‘House of Melancholy’ kinda falls away in places. At its lowest point there’s ‘Gasoline’; a weird synth-based folk song with a male vocal that never really sits. The album tries its best to recover and over the remainder the album it’s business as usual: dark, twisted melodies, fidgety percussion, and general sense of unease. And that’s it’s problem, it arguably type-casts itself too early, leading to a sense that it isn’t going to surprise you anymore.
If you give ‘House of Melancholy’ a chance, you’ll learn to love it but it’s likely going to take a few listens, but when you get there you soon realise there are moments of sheer genius, you just have to find them.
