How To Dance

They Say...

Review by K. Ross Hoffman, All Music Guide

Parisian techno knuckleheads Nôze serve up a barrage of outlandish but propulsive dancefloor workouts on their second long-player, injected throughout with a playful bizarreness and irreverent humor reminiscent of the German duo Modeselektor. Consisting of tracks culled from assorted vinyl releases, How to Dance (not to be confused with the EP of the same title) offers at best a somewhat unconventional outlook on its titular concern. Its herky-jerky, mechanistic grooves -- slightly demented strains of what might broadly be termed minimal electro and microhouse, though they seem unlikely to concern themselves with subgenre niceties -- are just nervously funky enough for the floor, but they're unlikely to assuage the tentative. More engagingly, every track here incorporates vocals of some sort, though not necessarily at the center of the action. Sometimes they're effectively unintelligible: skritchy vocoded scatting on the kitchen-sink two-step "Outomimonclic"; layered barbershop beat-boxing on the marching band funk of "Tuba"; discomfiting, wordless operatic flailing on the truly eccentric "Albert," which also features tinkling alarm clocks and savage, skronking saxophones. "Lovin All People" recalls Matthew Dear with its layered monotone vocals and blippy, insistent micro pulse, while the gruff, muppet-like sprechtstimme of "Tulip Schnaps" and "Kitchen" is in a class, though in the latter case the goofy kitchen-seduction narrative and inane refrain are merely the jumping-off point for some psychotic overdriven synth and inside-the-piano mayhem. Truth be told, Nôze is just as charmingly jovial in their instrumental passages, as demonstrated by this collection's opener, the deliciously poppy disco shuffle "Love Affair." Sure, its repeated, quasi-melodic refrain (one of the duo brightly remarking on how good it feels to brush his teeth and clean his nose) is memorable and hooky, but it's only taken in conjunction with the quirky interstitial elements -- wonky synthesizer burbles, percussive clatter, funky chicken-scratch guitar work -- from which the track gleans its ample, effortless appeal. Charismatic compositional craftsmen as well as jokesters then, How to Dance goes to show: Nôze knows how to have a good time, and they'd be only too happy to teach you.