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It’s no big secret that I’ve never been a huge fan of remixes. They usually make pretty good background music, though—especially if you need a little extra boost of energy. And that’s why I popped DJ/remix guru Steve Aoki’s new dance mix CD into my car’s CD player one dreary December afternoon.
Right from the beginning, it’s pretty clear that Pillowface and His Airplane Chronicles is a pretty heavy album. The instrumental introduction to the first track, “New Noise,” sounds like ‘80s heavy metal with a driving dance beat. And then the screaming comes in—and that, my friends, is just the beginning.
Pillowface reminds me of a club that I frequented in college. It wasn’t the kind of place where I would normally hang out, but it was the only place where an 18-year-old like me was allowed to come in and dance without the hassle of going out and getting a fake ID. It was called Club 911, and everyone knew that there was a pretty good reason for that: because it was a rare occurrence that some sort of emergency vehicle didn’t show up there on any given evening. Club 911 was smoky and dirty, and most of the patrons there appeared to be under the influence of some kind of illegal substance. There were people of indeterminate gender dressed in vinyl. There were girls dancing in cages. And I don’t even want to know what went on in the dark corners. It was a place to go and dance, and that’s why I kept going back—because it was my only option. But I would have never, ever considered going there without a very large entourage of very large guys to make sure I made it out in one piece.
Likewise, Aoki’s Pillowface is danceable—and it has a few decent moments. But the whole thing just has a nasty vibe to it. The metal/hip-hop/electronic influences come together in a way that’s just not pleasant. It’s crude and violent and loud (even when it’s played quietly), and listening to it is guaranteed to make you feel angry and agitated (and, thanks to the occasional moments of monotony, just a little bit bored). It might also make you feel like you need to take a long, hot shower to wash it out of your system.
On that December afternoon when I first listened to Pillowface, it took me about a track and a half before I took it out and went back listening to the radio. In fact, this is one of the only albums that I haven’t been able to listen to from beginning to end. Though I have made it through the whole thing (more than once, even!), it was in chunks, taking breaks in between.
As far as I see it, the world is already dirty, diseased, and angry enough—and there’s just no need to make matters worse by wasting your time on dark, dingy dance music.
