Ouch. That’s Hot.

Like a Big Mac, I’ve been loving it. But I must confess: I’m afeared. I’m quaking in my creative boots. I’m weak in my musical knees. Atrophy, dust, rust, and disease. The problem is this: Do I only like things that remind me of the music of my youth? Is there a future left for me? Or am I on a slow slump to a Sarasota double-wide pining for the way it used to be?

First of all, the album: It starts off with (and gets back to every 3 tracks or so) a nice bit of retro-80’s pop-balladry. That’s the hook. The barb is the dub, the punky-reggae party that slips into the groove like a track off of Sandinista and lights up this little corner of the dance floor of my heart. Throw in some sonic experiments that wouldn’t be out of place as a later Massive Attack track and you’ve got yourself an album. You’ve got yourself an album that sounds a lot like something I can relate to. Yes me: a 30-something, formerly hip, trying to keep up with the day job and the kids and the wife and the rest of life. Is this really a market to target?

There’s more to Santogold than that, but there’s something purposeful about the way she snips melody from the Smiths, screams like one of Siouxie’s banshees and has a Peter Murphy impersonator guest on the track “I’m a Lady”. Or maybe she just has good taste. Maybe I do too.

Here’s to hope, and here’s to the future.