Until recently, my only exposure to the music of Axel Lacan, a.k.a. Pun Collins, was though last years' World Wide Wave, a collection of 19 abstract and erratic beats stretched out over a staggering 53 minutes; a rewarding listening experience front to back, made even more impressive by it's sheer scale, but admittedly serving as a bit of an overwhelming entry-point into his work. Luckily for me, the folks over at Them There were kind enough to send over a copy of Lacan's newest, an album of neon streaked slow-jams and opiate induced dreamscapes that boils everything I loved about World Wide Wave into a thick, viscous syrup that goes down smoothly and leaves the listener drifting lazily from afterparty comedowns to half-lidded night drives; a journey more brief and yet less hurried than it's predecessor, carried on a languid, almost narcotic pace that allows the listener to truly luxuriate in the wealth of sounds and textures Collins brings to the table.
Lunar Influence is an album undeniably of it's time, from track titles referencing modern day internet lingo, to "outdated" keyboard pre-sets and drum samples re-appropriated into something ironic and yet somehow genuinely affecting and sincere in execution, Pun Collins displays a clear understanding of the cultural landscapes of 2018, leading one to wonder how this record might sound to people over a certain age, almost as if a certain cultural context and upbringing in the internet age is required to truly appreciate the sounds at work on this album. Traversing the worlds of funk, post-dubstep, hiphop, and even vaporwave, Lunar Influence transcends it's own sense of millennial irony and detachment, revealing complex layers and a thoughtful sense of dynamics and pacing with each repeated listen, like a deeply philosophical text hidden under the facade of an internet meme.
Opening things with Esc (Part 1), electrically charged grooves start and stop, stuttering with an indecisive anxiousness that is soon reconciled as deep bass synths swoop in and unleash a short-lived dance-floor catharsis, strobe lights and all, before quickly falling back into the sense of nightclub detachment that permeates through the entirety of the record, like showing up to a party only to find out that you are the only person who took drugs. This deep dance-floor introspection is carried through to the mystic spoken word dub of I Decay (idk), and the slow pitched, promethazine swagger of title track Lunar Influence, with its John Carpenter-esque electric guitar squeals and sleazy saxophones that sounds straight out of the Donkey Kong Country sound bank.
On Mainframe, ambient electronic master Nico Niquo makes a guest appearance, coaxing out from hiding an already dizzying array of spontaneously triggered drum samples and throbbing bass with his signature array of bleeps, bloops, and wispy soft synths, leading into 4EVA (Fadin' Away), which brings things full circle with the return of Lacan's pitched down vocals, this time dancing around with a deftness for wordplay that manages to enhance already complex rhythmic patterns, lyrics and post-club percussion bouncing off each other like molecules, before drifting off into an incomprehensible alien warble. Esc (Part II) provides a logical bookend to the whole experience; if Part 1 was the black hole that pulled the listener in to the strobing, iridescent world of Lunar Influence, this is the sound of the listener being spat back out into reality, a long night of mind-altering substances and dodgy locales reaching it's inevitable conclusion; the long introspective walk home in the early hours of the morning, trying to make some sort of sense of the incredibly weird, and undeniably profound night you just experienced.