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Asa Breed

by

Matthew Dear

 
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Asa Breed
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Avg: 4.0 (95 ratings)

Detroit dance producer genre-hops his way to an instant classic.

  • We Say...

    Review by Mark Richardson

    Lately appearing as Audion, purveyor of floor-friendly techno, Detroit's Matthew Dear saves his given name for work that marries lean, beat-driven tracks to structures that flirt with pop, featuring his deep and unusual singing voice. Indeed, flirting with pop is as far as Dear had gotten — until Asa Breed. Now, it seems, the relationship has been consummated. For evidence, check the track times: the first two Dear records averaged about five minutes per, and most could have been dancefloor fodder in instrumental form. Asa Breed's songs are comparatively succinct and draw from a much wider array of styles. You don't expect a guy who has logged this many hours in hip dance clubs the world over to deliver a track like the percussion-free "Give Me More," which is driven by a strummed acoustic guitar, or "Midnight Lovers," which isn't terribly far from the gothic roots-rock of the Black Heart Procession.

    Dear proves surprisingly adept at such genre-hopping, but catchy, hypnotic electro-pop is still where his greatest talent (and, one imagines, his heart) lies. And for that he gives us a solid handful of clear winners like the Prince-inflected "Pom Pom" and the dramatic and poignant "Deserter," which adds a neo-shoegaze guitar drone to a melody worthy of prime Depeche Mode. Those most interested in his focused production work might find Asa Breed slightly confusing at first, but repeated listens affirm that this is Matthew Dear's best album to date.

  • They Say...

    Review by Andy Kellman, All Music Guide

    Asa Breed furthers a seemingly happenstance shift to electronics-based indie pop that began on 2003's Leave Luck to Heaven and continued on 2004's Backstroke. Where the vocal tracks on those two albums sounded as if they began as instrumentals and just happened to benefit from lyrics and melodies thought up after the fact, there is an apparent deliberate attempt here at making songs. "Deserter" is the greatest example of Matthew Dear's gradual development as a writer, one of the most affecting songs he has made -- full of dazed textures, a very direct beat, and a typically disconnected vocal, it doesn't seem built to move the listener in any way, but it unexpectedly grabs hold, not unlike Wire's most subdued and straightforward material (such as "The 15th" or "Heartbeat"). One thing that hasn't changed is the elusiveness of the lyrics: most of them could mean anything, or perhaps nothing at all, and what seems tossed-off could have some profound subtext. No matter the amount of effort Dear put into his lyrics, the sounds he makes with his voice still take precedence. A little exposure to his constantly morphing flat baritone goes a long way, even though it is used in so many ways; there's barely intelligible gibberish, singsongy semi-sneering, exaggerated David Byrne deadpan, whiny whispering, and a few other methods used to convey stories, self-examination, and in-jokes. (With its resemblance to Japan's "Visions of China," "Shy" could use a David Sylvian impersonation, but that is not so easy to pull off.) Since producing dancefloor tracks remains Dear's most natural talent, a few of the album's songs would just happen to be effective as instrumentals when played in certain clubs; the likes of "Neighborhood," "Don and Sherri," and "Fleece on Brain," when stripped of vocals, sound just like typical Dear productions, but they do bend toward the need of the song. If there is an unexpected aspect of the album, it's within the last quarter of the program, where there are three scruffy songs dominated by acoustic guitar. Lurching and rumbling away, Dear sounds in need of shade and water, susceptible to being knocked over by some stray tumbleweed.

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