My Australian roommate claims that he once had brunch with one of the dudes from Cut Copy. I asked what the dude from Cut Copy ordered and his answer was, “some fruit thing,” which led me to believe that he didn’t brunch with the dude from Cut Copy as much as just sat in the same place at the same time as he did.
I was thinking about that a little while listening to Zonoscope, hoping there would be a track referencing “ordering some fruit thing for brunch,” but there wasn’t. Too intense, it probably ended up getting cut.
I don’t know what a zonoscope is, but it’s probably not a virtual colonoscopy tool that uses x-rays and a computer to produce a three-dimensional image of the colon, which is what I had imagined at first. The cover art for the album is skyscrapers and New York withstanding the assault of a waterfall. It all comes across as a prophecy of doom of some sort. I have been to New York, and it could happen again. In the summer the entire subway system sometimes shuts down because of rain and the city becomes unresponsive and feral and post-apocalyptic.
I don’t really understand what chewing gum is made of and I also don’t understand if Zonoscope is still music or just very complex noise chemistry. Zonoscope has so many layers of stuff going on that half the tracks make me feel like I am on sensory overload like I am a wizard on acid at a Flaming Lips concert or something. I just want a little break somewhere in there, like maybe a song in the middle with the brunch dude jamming freeform on a kazoo and nothing else happening.
The music creates a mood that supports whatever the lyrics are trying to depict. If the song has pharaohs and pyramids and human-serpent gods in it, then you can usually find some Egyptian-themed sample buried somewhere in there.
Also, Cut Copy sound cheesy almost by default, as if they can’t help it. Zonoscope talks about love so much that I feel like it wants me to move away from, give in to, act on, forget and spend my love all at once.
This article originally appeared in The Link Volume 31, Issue 22, published February 8, 2011.