One record at a time: 513. Dollar - Shooting Stars

There are people who insist there’s no such thing as a “guilty pleasure”. If something takes your fancy, it does so for a reason, and you should be able to enjoy it without anyone lobbing judgement your way. Fair point. And yet, surely even that theory needs a stress test. My inner critic can’t help raising an eyebrow and making studious notes when it stumbles across "Shooting Stars" by Dollar in my collection. I could argue the record only set me back a few quid in a charity shop and that it contains four Top 20 hits. But one glance at the sleeve photo and my defence starts packing its bags, quietly, and in the dark.

This album is from 1979, so it predates Dollar’s commercial synth-pop zenith, the era when Trevor Horn took the production and songwriting by the lapels and gave them a good shake. Here, Christopher Neil sits in the producer’s chair and, to be fair, he does a tidy job. Solina strings and Minimoog noodling are blended with acoustic drums and disco-tinged bass guitar. The sound isn’t the issue. The problem is the songs, which too often feel like they turned up to the session, signed in, and then asked if they could leave early.

The strangely monotone title track is a good example of what’s going wrong. I’m fairly sure there’s a chord change in there somewhere, but it’s hardly Steely Dan. Still, it must have had some appeal as it broke the Top 20 in the UK. It’s just that I can’t hear it, and I’ve tried, in the way you try to enjoy a colleague’s holiday photos. The Vocoder on “Star Control” is fun and faintly reminiscent of ELO, but at six minutes it outstays its welcome by a good three minutes and a small apology.

On the flip side, “Who Were You with in the Moonlight” has a decent chorus, which is handy because the verses do their best to take the air out of the room. There’s some really nice slap bass popping up here and there, but the production is otherwise fairly traditional, like it’s wearing sensible shoes and calling it a night at half ten.

The big single here was “Love’s Got a Hold on Me”, which sounds like it absorbed more than a bit of the Bee Gees along the way and then refused to give it back. There are some nice synth tones woven into its middle-of-the-road exterior, but it never quite escapes the beige, and this one definitely isn’t for me. Another Top 10 hit from the record is a cover of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand”. I’m a fan of covers that reframe a well-known song and add a bit of the artist’s personality, rather than simply photocopying the original and hoping nobody notices. There’s no doubt this track achieves that, and it’s one of the few moments where the album feels properly alive.

The rest of the tracklist mostly just occupies space. It’s hard to mount a serious defence for things like “Love Street”, or the full-on horrors of “I Need Your Love”. If you’re Dollar-curious, the hits will give you the gist. As for the album as a whole, let’s call it a fascinating artefact, best enjoyed at arm’s length, preferably from the other side of the charity-shop counter. Not so much a guilty pleasure, more a guilty purchase, the kind you justify on the walk home and quietly consider re-donating a week later. 1.5/5

One record at a time: 512. Digitalism - Idealism

Back in 2007, a few life events had me taking refuge in music, which remains one of my healthier coping mechanisms. Conveniently, it also felt like electronic music was having a proper revival at this time with Gui Boratto, Justice and Simian Mobile Disco stepping into the light and soundtracking my minor existential wobble. One of the albums I played to death during this time was "Idealism" by German duo Digitalism. I missed the original vinyl release, so this 2024 triple-disc neon green edition was never going to be a "nice to have". It was essential.

The album lands right in the sweet spot between high-energy electro house and the indie-rock habits of the mid-2000s, back when bands like Klaxons and Kasabian decided they quite fancied dance music, nicked a few moves, and tried to pass it off as rock ’n’ roll. Digitalism flip that idea on its head. This is the dance lot borrowing a bit of guitar, feeding it into the laptop, and somehow making it sound like the correct life choice.

If you ask the internet, "Pogo" is the headline track, but it has never been my favourite because it edges a little too far into indie territory for my taste. If you want Digitalism with the synths turned up and the guitars politely shown the door, "Jupiter Room" is the one. It is easily among their best productions, a huge, bruising anthem that still hits with the same reckless confidence today as it did when it was released almost twenty years ago (gulp, is it really that long ago?).

I also like the opening track "Magnets" and the bleepy chic of "Zdarlight" is hard to resist, but it is another track that kicks the door in. "Idealistic" is all squalling synths, clipped beats and gloriously overcooked electric piano. If you have neighbours, this is the track that tests how well you actually get on with them. At the end of the flip side "Echoes" is a firm favourite of mine as it balances melody and mood in a way I would normally associate with the calm competence of Röyksopp. This is the sort of track that compels you dance with a smile on your face. 

On the second disc, “The Pulse” is another cracking electronic cut, all shimmer and forward motion, and it keeps the album moving along nicely. Aside from "Pogo" the only other track I don't like much is the disposable indie-rock clutter “Anything New”, which feels like it has wandered in from a different record and is now pretending it was invited. This edition also throws in five previously unreleased bonus tracks from the original sessions, which is basically the musical equivalent of finding you’ve still got half a portion of chips hidden under your fish. Pass the ketchup.

So, does Idealism still hold up? Absolutely. It is loud, bright, slightly chaotic, and impossible to sit still through, even if your knees now make the kind of noises that were not a problem in 2007. The neon green triple-vinyl reissue feels fitting for an album this vivid, and the extra session tracks are a welcome bonus rather than padding. If you have any affection for the mid-two thousands electro revival, this is a no-brainer. Just clear a bit of space on the shelf, and maybe warn the neighbours. 4/5

One record at a time: 511. Depeche Mode - The Singles 81→85

I first heard this album on cassette via a Goodmans SW850 ghetto blaster, sometime around 1988. Even the muddy sound of cheap speakers couldn't ruin the magic of the songs coming from that borrowed tape. As a gateway to the world of Depeche Mode, this album was hard to beat in the eighties. Having only ever owned it on CD, I recently decided to buy a copy on LP, because who doesn’t like paying through the nose for a format that includes fewer songs than all the others?

To listen to "The Singles 81 to 85" is to witness a remarkable transformation. This isn’t just a collection of hits; it is a chronological map of four young men from Basildon, outgrowing the neon glow of the early 80s and stepping into a darker, more industrial shadow that they would eventually come to own. While this album stops short of the majestic "Black Celebration" and "Music for the Masses" albums, you can sense them approaching, like electricity in the air.

The journey begins with the pure, crystalline synth-pop of the Vince Clarke era. Tracks like "Dreaming of Me" and the immortal "Just Can’t Get Enough" are relics of a simpler time, unabashedly bright, melodic, and full of youthful naivety. At this stage, Depeche Mode were the choirboys of the synthesiser, crafting pop so sugary it felt as though it could float away. Yet they were good. Really good.

But the departure of Clarke, and the rise of Martin Gore as the primary songwriter, changed everything. You can almost hear the band’s loss of innocence as the tracklist progresses. By the time we reach "See You" and "Leave in Silence", the melodies remain, but the atmosphere begins to chill. There’s a newfound yearning in Dave Gahan’s vocal, and a hint of the baritone gravitas that would later fill stadiums.

The mid-point of the collection is where the "Depeche Mode sound" truly hardens into its definitive form. With "Everything Counts", the band traded bright synth-pop for industrial bite. They began sampling the world around them, clanging metal, grinding gears, and the cold reality of corporate greed. It was a bold, brilliant pivot. They became an unlikely bridge between the dancefloor and the factory floor.

Then come the heavy hitters, "People Are People" and "Master and Servant". These weren't just pop songs; they were sonic experiments that pushed the boundaries of what electronic music could say. They were provocative, metallic, and strangely soulful.

The collection culminates in the haunting "Shake the Disease", a song that serves as the perfect bridge to their "Black Celebration" era. It is moody, sophisticated, and deeply human, a long way from the bubbly teens of 1981.“The Singles 81 to 85” proves that Depeche Mode didn’t just survive the 80s; they redesigned them. It’s the sound of a band finding its soul in the machinery, and it remains an essential masterclass in how to evolve without ever losing your grip on a great hook. Unfortunately this album is also a reminder that they later relinquished that grip in their shift towards pseudo rock-god status. 4/5

One record at a time: 510. Cicero - Future Boy

David Cicero is probably best known for his time signed to the Pet Shop Boys’ short lived label, Spaghetti Records. Under the name Cicero, he released records on the label between August 1991 and November 1992, including his debut album “Future Boy”.

Whilst Dave's records never troubled the charts in a massive way, he did pull off a dream many of us had while still rearranging our cassette collections and promising ourselves we’d "make it one day". Dave started as a bedroom muso with ambitions of releasing records and, rather than waiting for a fairy god-producer to knock, he went out and made it happen. It also helps that he’s talented, which is an irritatingly useful trait in a musician.

This deluxe edition of "Future Boy" arrived in 2023 and was a far more comprehensive take than any of the previous versions that had been issued. You get a DVD featuring the promo videos for the singles plus a short live set recorded at Heaven nightclub in London, which is exactly the sort of extra that makes you feel smug about owning physical media. Because CD ruled the world in 1992, very few LPs were pressed, so original vinyl copies now cost the sort of money that makes you consider taking up a cheaper hobby, like yachting. Sensibly, this set plugs the gap with a white vinyl LP.

As for the album itself the singles, "Heaven Must Have Sent You Back To Me" and "That Loving Feeling" are easy highlights, but I’m giving the loudest applause to "Love Is Everywhere". There are also two cracking instrumentals, "Cloud 9" and "Sonic Malfunction", which do more than simply make up the numbers. Dave’s own favourite, "Then", was almost picked as a single and I’ll admit I always braced myself for its gleefully unhinged lurch from tender ballad to full on techno monster.

On this new edition there's a bonus track recorded during the original sessions but left off the album, called “Pretend”. The production doesn’t quite match the polish elsewhere, so I understand why it was given the chop, but as a peek behind the curtain it’s genuinely fascinating, like finding a deleted scene that explains why a character suddenly owns a dog.

My only gripe is the closing track, "Future Generations". Not only does it overstay its welcome but the lyrics feel a bit too contrived, and the vocal performance sounds like it could have done with a few more takes and a slightly firmer producer’s raised eyebrow. It drags the ending down, which is a shame after so much strong material.

After "Future Boy", Cicero moved into the Eurodance sound that dominated the mid-nineties, without much luck. Despite never quite escaping the shadow of his early mentors, Dave seems to treat his association with Pet Shop Boys as a blessing and is happy to acknowledge what they taught him. Still, it would be unfair to judge him only on his output from the early nineties. His recent albums, "Today" and "For Broken Hearts", somehow sound contemporary while still paying homage to his synth-pop roots. Sadly, neither is available on vinyl, which feels like a snub to those of us who like big sleeves and small amounts of dust. It's not just nostalgia that compels me to rate this album highly. 4/5

One record at a time: 509. Chromeo - Adult Contemporary

Having had my fingers burnt by Chromeo’s live album, I decided not to spring for the limited edition colour vinyl of their latest studio release "Adult Contemporary" in 2024. In a small, middle-aged act of defiance, I waited about a year and picked up the common or garden black version when it was discounted. That will show them, I thought, shaking my fist at the vagaries of retail pricing.

By the time the album finally turned up, it felt like half the tracklist had already been released as singles or teaser tracks. Instead of building anticipation, it left me with the odd sense that I had already heard the main talking points but was now attending the meeting anyway. On a first full listen, not much of it stuck. It is all a bit samey, and it tends to wash over me rather than lodge in the brain.

That is a shame, because Chromeo are usually very good at making slick, affectionate pop funk that still has a pulse. Even when they are being knowingly daft, there is normally a sharpness to the hooks and a sense of forward motion. They make songs that sound like they were designed by people who genuinely love synths, drum machines, and studio equipment. 

Here, the production is tidy and bright, but a lot of the songs share the same easy tempo, the same satin keyboard gloss, and the same slightly knowing vocal delivery. The choruses arrive on time, do their job, and then politely leave again. After a few tracks I found myself enjoying individual moments more than whole songs: a nice bass run here, a neat little synth flourish there, and then back into the comfortable groove.

In the past, that comfort has been a strength. Previous Chromeo records have often improved with repeat listens, like an in joke that gets funnier once you learn the rhythm of it. This time, though, repeated exposure did not unlock much as I couldn’t tolerate the test dose.

None of this is to say it is bad, just that it is rarely surprising. If you put it on while cooking, driving, or pretending to work from home, it will make life feel a bit shinier without demanding too much attention. I just wanted a couple more left turns, or at least a chorus that lived in my head for a day.

In the end, waiting for the discount probably suited the album. It is pleasant, professional, and easy to have on, but it has not quite earned a premium place in my rotation. If you are after peak Chromeo, I would still point you towards the earlier records first, then come back to this one when you fancy something smooth and undemanding. Preferably when it is in a sale, if only to keep the illusion of defiance alive. 2/5

One record at a time: 508. Chromeo - Date Night: Chromeo Live!

Not long ago I found a copy of the 2007 deluxe edition of Thompson Twins’ "Here’s To Future Days" in a charity shop for £1. It tends to go for around £30 second-hand, which is the sort of bargain that makes you feel briefly chosen by the music gods. 

Unfortunately that warm glow did not last because it reminded me of when I bought "Date Night: Chromeo Live!" from Bandcamp in 2021. This record cost an eye-watering $70 (about £52) at the time, but five years later you can still pick it up on Amazon for less than half that. 

Collecting records is a bit like gambling: sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. The difference is that when you lose money gambling, you do not have to catalogue the evidence alphabetically. With this hobby, the losses, and the little sense of injustice that comes with them, hang around for years, patiently filed under the artists name and waiting to judge you every time you glance at the shelf.

The set itself is generous: twenty tracks spread across three slabs of blue marbled vinyl, capturing performances from the band’s 2019 US tour. You get the big hits, delivered with the kind of polish and tightness you would expect from a group that treats funk like a craft rather than a mood. Having seen them live, I can attest that the musicianship of the band is the real deal.

If you love Chromeo, or you want a crisp souvenir of the 2019 era set, this is an easy recommendation. It captures their professionalism and a knack for making immaculate pop funk feel like a party rather than a job. For me it is a reminder that collecting records is not just about the music, it is also about occasionally paying extra for the privilege of learning patience. 3.5/5

One record at a time: 507. The Chemical Brothers - For That Beautiful Feeling

Released in 2023, "For That Beautiful Feeling" arrived with a fair bit of expectation attached, helped along by the early single "The Darkness That You Fear". On paper it is got everything I usually want from The Chemical Brothers: a clear hook, a confident pulse, that familiar sense of a bigger picture gradually coming into focus. In practice, though, it never quite lands for me. The samples feel more nagging than catchy and, because the duo are not shy about repeating a phrase until it becomes the point of the track, what should be hypnotic starts to grate.

That is the theme I keep bumping into across the record. The production is as glossy and muscular as you would expect from a band who have been doing this longer than most of us have been paying council tax. There are moments where a synth line lifts its head above the mix and you think, here we go, this is the one. Then the track leans back on a vocal chop or a loop that refuses to evolve, and the momentum slips away.

"Live Again" is a good example. It has a sturdy groove and a pleasingly ravey shimmer, but the central vocal hook sits in that awkward place between inspirational and intensely irritating. I can imagine it working a treat in a festival field, shouted back with arms in the air. At home, on a grey Tuesday, it invokes the same anger as being told to smile by a stranger on the bus.

To be clear, there is nothing careless here. The sound design is detailed, the low end is enormous, and there is a sense of craft in how the tracks are layered and paced. I just do not think the album’s best ideas are quite strong enough to justify how firmly they are repeated. 

When it clicks, it is properly transportive ("No Reason", "Feels Like I’m Dreaming"). When it does not ("Goodbye", "Live Again"), it can feel like you are stuck in a tumble drier watching the same scene move round and around ad infinitum. I was especially looking forward to another Beck collaboration, but even this ends up feeling a bit undercooked and never quite matches the promise of previous outings.

So, say it quietly, but "For That Beautiful Feeling" is not amongst the band's best. I do not dislike it enough to write it off, and I would still take it over most paint by numbers dance records without thinking. I just wanted a bit more surprise, a bit more lift, and fewer hooks that outstay their welcome. This record doesn’t gab me like "Surrender" or "Push the Button" did. If you are already on board, you will find plenty to enjoy. If you are looking for a classic, you might end up reaching for the older stuff instead. 2.5/5