I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: This is what happens when you get too attached to the “Main Street Electrical Parade” record as a child. Or in Peplab’s case, if you followed that parade into the House.

There’s a definite retro-dance, electric disco style here. “Wondergirl” is escapist electronica, and “Pornstar” sounds like what you would hear as you leave a new wave club with one. “Drive” comes from the same dark strain of new romanticism as Arcadia, and “Saturdays” combines spirited, charged synthesizer sequences with a sensual vocal. And then there’s the theatrical, mannered dance-pop art of “Seven Inch Heels.”

This is music to get you on the dance floor, music for parties, and it’s immediately captivating, even if Peplab does have the stupidest name since Vivabeat. The words could be more interesting — they haven’t inhaled all the twisted splendor of ’80’s pop’s greatest hits — but the mix of moves and motion cause such a commotion you won’t mind.

To my ears there’s just enough substance poured over these grooves to make a young man’s fancy turn lightly to thoughts of love. Or to second that emotion, in the words of the prophets:

“Humanly impossible to disapprove, cos the Shriek keeps shrieking and the groove don’t move, you’ve gotta put on the pressure, put out the lights, oh… get down tonight!” — Get Down Tonight, Harry Wayne Casey / Richard Finch / Shriekback


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