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MH-224 Her Space Holiday - The Young Machines  Change... love... death... infidelity... confession... a break up. Marc Bianchi is nearly surgical in his ability to slice delicate songs of love, loss, hope, despair, and optimism out of one very hard year. His striking new release as Her Space Holiday is The Young Machines, an authentic foray into intelligent dream-pop. The production is everything you have come to expect from Her Space Holiday; intricate string arrangements, analog synth patterns, lush guitar-like drones and tasteful drum programming abound, but it is the songwriting that elevates the album to its elite status. Traditional song structures take unexpected turns throughout, highlighting introspection and vulnerability most often missing in electronic music. The Young Machines is a ten-song encapsulation of a year on the edge and Her Space Holiday's most complete and personal release. |
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| Reviews Summary |
| Terrific stuff. - Q / A beautiful bittersweet record - Under The Radar / Often on a par with the very best of Elliott Smith. - Uncut / The finest Her Space Holiday release - Pulse / Rapturous and bittersweet, The Young Macines is a soothing swoon. - Entertainment Weekly / Bianchi has made the album of his life - Logo |
| Reviews | |
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| There's likely some really good dirt in all of this. Mar Bianchi (Her Space Holiday) was never the happiest guy in electronica, but The Young Machines has enough regret, sadness and self-loathing to power a Trent Reznor comeback. "I did this myself / It's a sick cry for help" Bianchi sings on "My Girlfriend's Boyfriend" offering a synopsis of the album's themes. He lyrically touches on drug problems, unfaithful relationships, a break-up and a funeral. It's not clear whether the subject matter stems from Bianchi's life - the departure of longtime girlfriend Keely Chanteloup from the band seems to indicate some of it may be first-person - but that's not really the point. The point is The Young Machines is the best thing Her Space Holiday has ever done. While on his previous albums idled in fluttery, lulling atmospherics, the new one moves. On "Tech Romance" Bianchi's trademark orchestral samples race and zing in playful loops, and the rump-shaking thump of "My Girlfriend's Boyfriend" wouldn't be out of place on a Mary J. Blige album. The upbeat tone may seem weird given the lyrics, but the tension-and-release of The Young Machines feels a lot like those redemptive songs that play as credit roll in movies - big sounds to mask the ambivalence of powerful endings. - Magnet |
