The French have a thing for getting together in pairs and creating fun and innovative techno albums. And for having funny names. There was Daft Punk (Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo), who broke in 1997 with their ubiquitous "Da Funk." Then in 1998 we had Air (Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoit Dunckel; not quite so funny) who were acclaimed as electronica wunderkind even though their debut album Moon Safari prominently featured strings, acoustic guitars, tubas, and nary a dancy club …
The French have a thing for getting together in pairs and creating fun and innovative techno albums. And for having funny names. There was Daft Punk (Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo), who broke in 1997 with their ubiquitous "Da Funk." Then in 1998 we had Air (Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoit Dunckel; not quite so funny) who were acclaimed as electronica wunderkind even though their debut album Moon Safari prominently featured strings, acoustic guitars, tubas, and nary a dancy club beat. Among the latest batch to emerge from the thriving Paris dance scene are Phillipe Zdar and Hubert "Boom Bass" Blanc-Francart, collectively known as Cassius. A pure-pop house album very much in the vein of Basement Jaxx's synchronous Remedy, Cassius' 1999 gets things cooking right from the start with the title tune, which has a prominent, bouncy bassline, a complex, quasi-Latin percussion track and repeated (and undeniable) declarations that this is "funky music." Feeling for You, which was released as a single, has a more conventional underlying groove - the four-on-the-floor bass drum rhythm that's straight out of the seventies. Cassius is not about to let us forget that house is the nineties' version of disco. That same basic groove reoccurs numerous times throughout the album, but it never gets overly tiresome. Thus we have "La Mouche", in which it becomes the constant element while they have some fun playing bait-and-switch volume games with a piano figure; "Nulife", in which it's augmented by handclaps, some James Brown-esque guitar, and a bit of conga drumming; and the down-tempo "Club Soixante Quinze", which has a kind of shuffly, new-jack thing going on. Probably the album's best cut, however, is the radio remix of "Cassius 1999," which has almost nothing to do with the original version except for the periodic proclamation (in a cute little Gallic accent): "Cassius in the House." The problem with electronica records, in particular those which are specifically geared towards dance, is that producers often get caught up in experimenting and decline (for understandable reasons) to fill the album with nothing but head-bobbing basslines, butt-shaking grooves and catchy hooks - which results in two or three killer dance tracks and a hefty load of interesting but ultimately useless doodling. By the same token, it's difficult to listen straight through to an album that was designed primarily for dancing. Thankfully, the first problem is pretty much avoided here. While not every song is prime dance-floor fodder, there is relatively little bum material, and at least it all sounds different. As for the second, that's easily solved: don't just sit there; get up and dance. With Cassius behind the decks, you hardly need an invitation.