Dad, can we listen to the two mysterious robots? When Colin slipped into the car and asked me this question, I felt exhilarated. My six year-old son would ask for Daft Punk on dozens of ocassions as my boys piled into the back seat, and it became quite clear that the global-dominating French duo would provide our soundtrack for the year, our family album of smooth and dancey disco-funk. By delivering love and balming heartbreak throughout interstellar space, the robots seemed to open up our collective future possibilities. We were connected. My boys (and I) simply loved these songs.
The robots are sad! Yes, son, they are sad, proving that even the most hard-wired among us can get down in the mouth, can sometimes feel like losers in the game of love.
Why is he talking? That is weird. Yes, it is weird, which is one of the reasons the synth pioneer's spoken word is so affecting as it precedes the record's most clever drop: "My name is Giovanni Giorgio. But everybody calls me Giorgio." Cue the laser-tight synthesizers running into the distance.
This song makes me think about when I was little. It makes me sad. The techno theater of "Touch," with its soliloquies, its children's choir swells, its love is the answer message, developed into the ridiculously incredible track that intrigued my boys the most. They debated about the song's meaning. They wondered at singer Paul Williams's sadness (and couldn't possibly know that he had long ago written two of The D Man's favorite songs). A few weeks ago I turned around as Williams finished the song with his vocal introspection. Colin was crying in the back seat. "Touch! Sweet touch! You've almost convinved me I'm real." Touching, indeed!
Another story. One summer evening I came home and popped my head out the back door. The sun was setting and it was perfect. Dylan and Colin were swinging together on our little playground. They were singing "Doin' It Right." Dylan was repeating the robot refrain: "Everybody will be dancing and be doin' it right!" Colin was singing the Panda Bear part: "If you lose your way tonight that's how you know the magic's right!" They were performing the entire duet with surprising accuracy.
Question: what other record this year could produce such a magical moment?
The D Man could wax on about Nile Rodgers's glittery guitars saving the planet, could break down Pharell's in-the-zone performances, could delight in the future moment when my boys will finally understand the gloriously innocuous double-entendre of "Get Lucky," could celebrate the pristine production and the $2 million it took to record the album in an age where such studio investments have almost entirely disappeared, could bemoan the meathead, sexist, and artless state of most EDM and house music, or could praise two anonymous French dudes for breathing life back into music in 2013. There is no need to do any of that, of course
From the backseat, Colin summed up the record best: When I listen to Daft Punk, I feel cool.
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