The Automatik

Epic Records, 2004

Eighties nostalgia is practically a cottage industry now. Eighty percent of it is revisionist crap. Then there’s Duran Duran. Let me confess, I was a teenaged Duranie and except for a brief spell of cooler-than-thou shame, I never stopped being a fan.

Of course, time has proven that for all their pretty boy pomp and circumstance they were actually talented (something we girls knew all along). Despite parting with two of the original band members in the mid 80s, they carried on, defying their critics with the undeniably terrific Notorious album. And their self-titled comeback from the early 90s (also known as The Wedding Album) was a hit of mammoth proportions, as well as mammoth variations in style, including guest vocals by Brazilian artist Milton Nascimento and a Velvet Underground cover.

Then there were the lean years, when founding member John Taylor left the band and Simon LeBon and Nick Rhodes thought it was acceptable to cover Led Zeppelin and Grandmaster Flash. And don’t get me started on Warren Cuccurullo’s porn “career.” The recent reunion with Roger and Andy Taylor and the return of John should have spelled something brilliant. But Astronaut, Duran Duran’s latest album, is sometimes as frigid and cold as Neil Armstrong’s scripted dialogue from the moon landing. And like that well-known space traveler, it sometimes stumbles over its own words.

“(Reach Up For the) Sunrise” is a fabulous and appropriate single. The Duran Duran Sound? drips from the speakers: the yearning vocal and catchy-as-hell chorus are instantly memorable. John Taylor even throws out a few trademark bass twangs to make us all squeal. After that, though, it’s like they’re running on a treadmill that’s set on the wrong speed. And this isn’t an ageist critique; if any band has improved with time it’s Duran Duran.

I am reminded of a SPIN review of 1984′s Seven and the Ragged Tiger, a delirious treatise to Nick Rhodes’ keyboard wizardry, including a pointed description of “electronic castanets.” Ironic or not, I keep coming back to that when I listen to Astronaut. We know that Mr. Rhodes can coax sounds out of his instrument to rival other 80s synth wizards like Gary Numan and Depeche Mode, so we don’t need to be convinced. Less should be more, although this does not necessarily apply to his makeup.

LeBon’s yelping is present and accounted for, the obvious inspiration for Suede’s Brett Anderson, but let’s face it, no one does it better than Simon. So why does he find it necessary to ape Blur on “Bedroom Toys,” which almost sounds like a rehash of “Skin Trade?” Oh Simon, we don’t want you to be Damon Albarn, we want you to be you.

However, the album hits its stride in the second half (and I could get into a production quibble with the arrangement of the songs, but I will just leave it at that). “Taste the Summer” is great, with everything coalescing into a danceable, sensual little number. At this point, I’m wondering why I was disappointed with the album in the first place. The last three songs are truly excellent, combining earthly and interstellar pleasures in a melancholy cocktail that shows why Duran Duran are still relevant after more than twenty years.

“Point of No Return” is wonderful, highly reminiscent of “Land” (from the terribly underrated Big Thing). Despite the fact that Warren Cuccurullo gave great Andy Taylor, I’m glad the original is back. And do I detect a whiff of politics? Naivety falls from our eyes/and we’ll not regain/as we watch the tower falling down. I’m not sure of that, but I am sure that “Still Breathing” is an awesome song with breathy vocals and moody basslines dominating, and just the right touch of Nick Rhodes doing his thing.

And this is precisely why when Duran Duran songs work, they truly work. Keep your feet on the ground, guys; just keep reaching for the stars.