Second Nature
Electro-Rock duo Ratatat step out of their element
By Alex Littlefield // PHOTOGRAPHED BY Jacqueline Di Milia
Ratatat are heaving across the Hudson in a two-seater kayak, their orange life vests a bizarre contrast to their pristine black ball-caps and oversized mirror shades. It's early summer in New York City, and bandmates Evan Mast and Mike Stroud are taking full advantage of the balmy weather by indulging in some late-afternoon paddling along the Hudson piers.
It's tempting to say that this sort of outdoorsy activity should be anathema to any Brooklyn-based electronic artists -- particularly Ratatat. A gangly pair whose ranginess is accentuated by skinny jeans and lank mops of hair, Mast and Stroud look like a pair of ultra-hip storks who have wandered from their Brooklyn habitat. Put them in a kayak, and the effect gets even stranger.
Ratatat's story is a quintessentially Brooklyn one. After graduating from a liberal-arts college (Skidmore), the two started making music using the only means at their disposal: tooling around on a synth keyboard and an electric guitar in Mast's Crown Heights apartment. Landing a record deal with only a handful of songs, the band made a name for itself with its technocratic approach to music -- a hyper-produced brand of instrumental electro-rock that feels more suited to a neon-lit urban strip than a stretch of choppy river water.
In the world of electronic music, Ratatat have long stood alone. Unlike the clubby, disco-tinged acts that predominate the field, Ratatat have tended to shun complexity in favor of muscular simplicity. Marked by the solitary scream of Stroud's electric guitar, their music could be classified as pure rock'n'roll, were it not for its throbbing beats, buzzing keyboard riffs and high cosmetic gloss. With their latest album, however, Ratatat have broken their own irregular mold.
Surprisingly, Ratatat are proving themselves equally as comfortable in the natural world as their synthetic one. Case in point: their fourth studio record, aptly titled LP4, was recorded at Old Soul Studios, next to the Catskill Mountains in upstate New York. The album is textured with instruments like harpsichord and grand piano -- even a full string section, which the band recorded upon their return to the city.
"It has a different feel -- that's part of what was so exciting," says Mast of recording on the equipment at Old Soul. "Playing on a real harpsichord is so much more satisfying than playing a harpsichord sample."
Coming from an über-electronic band like Ratatat, that's nothing short of shocking. Blame it on the altitude, or the Catskills water -- or, perhaps, on the decathlon-style recording session that produced the album. The tracks on LP4 were laid down during the same session as Ratatat's 2008 release, LP3. Over the course of 40 days, the band recorded a staggering amount of material -- and then had to decide what to do with it all.
"We had all this studio time, and we had no reason to leave the studio," remembers Mast. "It was a pretty rare opportunity to allow the weirdest ideas a certain amount of time."
"We just kept making songs," says Stroud, "and we realized at the end, 'Oh, I guess we have two albums.' We'd been making a playlist as we went, and we just cut that in half."
LP3 and LP4 present the tracks from this single session in the order in which they were recorded -- but that's not to say that the division of the two records is arbitrary. To hear the band tell it, their typical recording process -- essentially, looping a beat and then experimenting with overlaid chord progressions until one sticks -- is the easy part. It's only the initial, intuitive stage in a much longer and more agonizing process of fine-tuning the recorded material -- and that's the stage in which LP4 truly came into its own.
"When it's working the best," says Stroud of their recording sessions, "we don't have to speak to each other at all... it's really obvious. That'll get us ninety percent through a song -- and then the last ten percent, polishing it, can be extremely difficult."
Call it an anal-retentive streak, but it's one which, fortuitously, both Mast and Stroud share. "We're both super-picky and particular," says Stroud. "It's kind of amazing: from the very first songs [we ever recorded], we both agreed on what sounded good."
While LP4's high gloss and recurring electric guitar is vintage Ratatat, its complex arrangements have no precedent in a repertoire defined by bullish power chords and no-nonsense progressions. It's as if Mast and Stroud gave up the anthemic stuff for a steady diet of Chromeo, the Beatles' White Album and Philip Glass. (Notably, it was at an old studio of Glass's that Ratatat recorded what may be LP4's most interesting embellishment: the aforementioned string section, playing arrangements that Mast and Stroud devised themselves.)
These new sounds and complex arrangements come as a bit of a surprise to anyone used to the band's earlier, plodding melodies -- stripped-down and infectious in the way of a 1980 arcade-game soundtrack. That style is epitomized on the band's second album Classics, a no-nonsense rock effort that is especially beloved by show-goers -- not surprising, given the songs' stadium-rock overtones. According to Ratatat, though, that sound was largely a product of their limitations.
"I think we always wanted to use tons of organic sounds like harpsichords; we just didn't have access to them," says Stroud. "We had a guitar and an amp and two keyboards. If we had had anything else, we probably would have used it."
Whatever the future holds in store, it's probably not another Classics. "It wouldn't make any sense for us to make another album like that in the place where we are, with a million different sounds available to us," says Stroud. And yet, for the band to grow, they'll have to weed through all their various options. Or, alternately, just ignore them altogether.
"I feel like we've reached a spot where there aren't really any more instruments that we're interested in trying out," says Mast. "Limiting ourselves might be a good direction for the next record."
Grooming by Margina Dennis for Smashbox Cosmetics.
It's tempting to say that this sort of outdoorsy activity should be anathema to any Brooklyn-based electronic artists -- particularly Ratatat. A gangly pair whose ranginess is accentuated by skinny jeans and lank mops of hair, Mast and Stroud look like a pair of ultra-hip storks who have wandered from their Brooklyn habitat. Put them in a kayak, and the effect gets even stranger.
Ratatat's story is a quintessentially Brooklyn one. After graduating from a liberal-arts college (Skidmore), the two started making music using the only means at their disposal: tooling around on a synth keyboard and an electric guitar in Mast's Crown Heights apartment. Landing a record deal with only a handful of songs, the band made a name for itself with its technocratic approach to music -- a hyper-produced brand of instrumental electro-rock that feels more suited to a neon-lit urban strip than a stretch of choppy river water.
In the world of electronic music, Ratatat have long stood alone. Unlike the clubby, disco-tinged acts that predominate the field, Ratatat have tended to shun complexity in favor of muscular simplicity. Marked by the solitary scream of Stroud's electric guitar, their music could be classified as pure rock'n'roll, were it not for its throbbing beats, buzzing keyboard riffs and high cosmetic gloss. With their latest album, however, Ratatat have broken their own irregular mold.
Surprisingly, Ratatat are proving themselves equally as comfortable in the natural world as their synthetic one. Case in point: their fourth studio record, aptly titled LP4, was recorded at Old Soul Studios, next to the Catskill Mountains in upstate New York. The album is textured with instruments like harpsichord and grand piano -- even a full string section, which the band recorded upon their return to the city.
"It has a different feel -- that's part of what was so exciting," says Mast of recording on the equipment at Old Soul. "Playing on a real harpsichord is so much more satisfying than playing a harpsichord sample."
Coming from an über-electronic band like Ratatat, that's nothing short of shocking. Blame it on the altitude, or the Catskills water -- or, perhaps, on the decathlon-style recording session that produced the album. The tracks on LP4 were laid down during the same session as Ratatat's 2008 release, LP3. Over the course of 40 days, the band recorded a staggering amount of material -- and then had to decide what to do with it all.
"We had all this studio time, and we had no reason to leave the studio," remembers Mast. "It was a pretty rare opportunity to allow the weirdest ideas a certain amount of time."
"We just kept making songs," says Stroud, "and we realized at the end, 'Oh, I guess we have two albums.' We'd been making a playlist as we went, and we just cut that in half."
LP3 and LP4 present the tracks from this single session in the order in which they were recorded -- but that's not to say that the division of the two records is arbitrary. To hear the band tell it, their typical recording process -- essentially, looping a beat and then experimenting with overlaid chord progressions until one sticks -- is the easy part. It's only the initial, intuitive stage in a much longer and more agonizing process of fine-tuning the recorded material -- and that's the stage in which LP4 truly came into its own.
"When it's working the best," says Stroud of their recording sessions, "we don't have to speak to each other at all... it's really obvious. That'll get us ninety percent through a song -- and then the last ten percent, polishing it, can be extremely difficult."
Call it an anal-retentive streak, but it's one which, fortuitously, both Mast and Stroud share. "We're both super-picky and particular," says Stroud. "It's kind of amazing: from the very first songs [we ever recorded], we both agreed on what sounded good."
While LP4's high gloss and recurring electric guitar is vintage Ratatat, its complex arrangements have no precedent in a repertoire defined by bullish power chords and no-nonsense progressions. It's as if Mast and Stroud gave up the anthemic stuff for a steady diet of Chromeo, the Beatles' White Album and Philip Glass. (Notably, it was at an old studio of Glass's that Ratatat recorded what may be LP4's most interesting embellishment: the aforementioned string section, playing arrangements that Mast and Stroud devised themselves.)
These new sounds and complex arrangements come as a bit of a surprise to anyone used to the band's earlier, plodding melodies -- stripped-down and infectious in the way of a 1980 arcade-game soundtrack. That style is epitomized on the band's second album Classics, a no-nonsense rock effort that is especially beloved by show-goers -- not surprising, given the songs' stadium-rock overtones. According to Ratatat, though, that sound was largely a product of their limitations.
"I think we always wanted to use tons of organic sounds like harpsichords; we just didn't have access to them," says Stroud. "We had a guitar and an amp and two keyboards. If we had had anything else, we probably would have used it."
Whatever the future holds in store, it's probably not another Classics. "It wouldn't make any sense for us to make another album like that in the place where we are, with a million different sounds available to us," says Stroud. And yet, for the band to grow, they'll have to weed through all their various options. Or, alternately, just ignore them altogether.
"I feel like we've reached a spot where there aren't really any more instruments that we're interested in trying out," says Mast. "Limiting ourselves might be a good direction for the next record."
Grooming by Margina Dennis for Smashbox Cosmetics.
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