Electroclash is so back. Having originally crawled from the gutters of turn-of-the-century New York, East London, and Berlin, the global stage is once again ripe for its take on fame, hedonism, kinky sex, and punk energy masquerading as lackadaisical electro ennui. You can see it in Fcukers’ downtown fashionista house, Slayyyter’s new and expanded version of sleazy 2000s indie, or MGNA Crrrta’s MySpace-coded noise pop—even the undisputed grande dame of electroclash, Peaches, just released her first album in over a decade. The youth are getting in touch with the same themes that made the genre culturally relevant in the first place: a semi-ironic performance of excess, wealth, and overt sexuality, a backlash to party-pooping conservatism. But unlike the equally indulgent electronic pop of the 1980s, electroclash was DIY instead of aspirational, a “fuck art, let’s dance” bacchanalia infused with countercultural ethos.
Among the first artists to make this connection was Montreal producer and DJ Tiga, whose 2001 cover of Corey Hart’s “Sunglasses at Night” became one of electroclash’s first bonafide hits. The song strips the original’s iconic beefy melody down for parts, replacing it with tinny drumbeats and a minimal synthline, a sound that would become electroclash’s hallmark. Tiga hasn’t put out a solo studio album since 2016’s No Fantasy Required, a synthpop record that didn’t quite ignite the dancefloor like some of his previous releases. Now seems like as good a time as any to revisit the genre that made him famous, and on his consciously raunchy and poignantly flippant new LP, HOTLIFE, he does just that.
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Like most good producer-artists, Tiga has a keen ear for choosing features that enhance his recordings without overpowering his own ideas. On HOTLIFE, longtime collaborators like Boys Noize and Matthew Dear sit alongside newer acts who both imbue the tracks with a fresh energy, and pay genuine homage to the album’s Y2K roots. Fcukers show up early on “Silk Scarf,” with vocalist Shanny Wise’s borderline spoken-word delivery the perfect complement to Tiga’s blasé intonations. “I got a new hobby/I put silk on my body,” he deadpans—“Call me!” Wise purrs back. It’s sexy and fun, but there’s meat on the bone, as insectoid synths buzz around a throbbing death disco beat. It’s as realized as anything Fcukers have put out on their own, which shows to what extent their own music is indebted to early 2000s electro tropes.
Sometimes nostalgia can be a dirty word, and Tiga avoids a wholesale rehash of his earlier work by recalibrating his sound to incorporate multiple other electronic genres. “I Am Your Detroit Sunrise” is seven minutes of digital flutes and minimal techno meant to mimic the feeling of walking out of the club and into the brisk morning air; on “High Rollers,” his vocals adopt the cadence of an ’80s South Bronx rapper, or Debbie Harry at the end of “Rapture.” “Cherry” would be at home on No Fantasy Required, with its warpdrive synths and ever-escalating rollercoaster beat-drops bridging the gap between William Orbit’s space pop and the Chemical Brothers’ big beat. But still, it’s tracks like “IAMWHATIAM,” featuring Norwegian producer and DJ MRD, that prove to be the most exciting, digging deep into Tiga’s bag of electroclash tricks. “I am what I am/And I like what I like,” bleats Tiga’s robo-voice over a caustic techno beat and static reverb. Like a lot of electroclash, its intensity lies in its minimalism—simultamously innocuous and vulnerable, its declaration of sexual freedom feels urgent when there are no bells and whistles to hide behind.
