REVIEW: French Fries – Kepler

Matt Warrilow with a birlliantly mental review of the Kepler LP by French Fries

The day, Tuesday. The month, March. The year, 2183.

That’s right, whilst messing about with my microwave and trying to figure out how best to defrost chicken, I managed to invent time-travel. Not bad for a quiet Tuesday night in. So what was the first thing I did with this scientific marvel I had stumbled across?

Did I get a sports almanac and win a heap of money on betting, only for Michael J Fox to come along and ruin it all? Although that would have been fun, it would also involve being called Biff. Which sounds like something you try and make your partner do. So probably best not.

Did I go back and kill Hitler? Get over it, EVERYONE thinks of that. No, I took a copy of the new French Fries record, ‘Kepler’ with the aim of getting to the future to hear it.

Why? Well on listening to snippet previews, this was sounding like the future. It sounded like space (not the 90s hit pop combo Space, I meant where George Clooney’s corpse is still floating about a la Gravity) so it seemed apt to go there.

And this is what happened…

I arrive in the year 2183. The good thing to say right now is that it’s still 817 years off us all living underwater, as correctly predicted by those great philosophers Busted.

It’s true, not much has changed… apart from the fact that everything flies, there’s green aliens everywhere and, for some weird reason, every non-alcoholic drink apart from water and Pepsi Max has been outlawed. To say my first impressions of the future were kind of shit is an understatement.

I find the nearest club, named after the World President of the time, Dustin Diamond the 17^th, and I head in. I’m looking to party, and luckily something with 3 heads from the planet Nsedor spots me.

‘Hey human, I’ve got some stuff you’d love. Banned from all planets from sector C to sector Ekdralaskav, this will blow your mind’

So I give him my ancient 2p (apparently they are worth shit loads in the future) and in return am given a furry caterpillar kind creature, that changes colour every few seconds.

‘What the fuck is this?’

‘It’s the start of your party man…the start of your party…’

So here I go, I take the caterpillar, and within seconds I am tripping utter fucking balls.

So much so, that the guy with 3 heads seems to have morphed himself into Matt Le Blanc from Lost in Space. As has everyone else in the club. Because apparently, when I think of space, I think Matt Le Blanc. That in itself is cause for concern.

Despite that, I manage to get ‘Kepler’ played (how I managed this is a long story, which culminated in me doing sexual favours for something that didn’t seem to have any sexual organs…) and the party is going.

All the Matt Le Blancs are kind of curious when ‘Program’ kicks in, with its single synth chord and sound effects to go with it. The Matt Le Blanc next to me leans over and says ‘is this the national anthem of planet Seltador 7?’ My blank expression gave him the response he needed.

From the first notes of ‘U.M-An’, I’m starting to see myself in a level of Mario. Leaping about, trying to collect, what I thought were mushrooms, but instead were peoples’ drinks. Leaping on blocks, which turned out to be people. God knows how I didn’t get kicked out.

And then it really starts to kick in.

From ‘Machine’ through to highlight ‘Bug Noticed’, onto ‘Change the Past’, this is Detroit/Chicago house mixed with dread. Sheer fucking dread. And I’m loving it. Those memories of first going clubbing are coming back to me, the sheer joy, the darkness of techno, the sweat of the club. This is incredible. I feel wonderful.

And then I open my eyes.

All the Matt Le Blanc’s are looking right at me, the only person dancing in the whole place. Not even a serving of Grandma’s chicken salad will help me right now.

It’s fair to say I’ve ruined the vibe. This is club music, but not accessible enough to belong in any old club. It’d have to be a club that is a dark, drugs ridden hellhole where people go to be miserable.

I feel guilty for forcing it onto the people of the future, but considering the sound and theme of the album as a whole, it made plenty of sense at the time.

But as I’m chased out of the club by an angry mob of Matt Le Blancs, I got to thinking, what is wrong with this album?

Sure there’s plenty of big cuts on there, ‘Bug Noticed’ and ‘Change the Past’ being the real stand outs, but why isn’t the future so accepting?

Simply put, this isn’t the sound of the future. It’s taking the resurgence of Chicago and Detroit house, and added a Parisian focus on it. And that’s great, but when you’re pushing it out, wanting it to be a futuristic and forward thinking album, then that what it needs to be, and Mr Fries hasn’t got it quite right.

On top of that, the flow is lacking. Rather than being an album, this is a collection of songs with similar sounds, broken up by those 1-2 minute songs filled with noise and ‘beep beep’ that are supposed to add something to an album. To this day, I’ve still no fucking idea what they bring, apart from a waste of time.

But in a world where we all just skip to our favourite songs, and rarely have the opportunity to digest a full record, is that an issue? Individually, these are songs that if heard in a club, with the right settings, would be perfect.

Simply put, ‘Kepler’ isn’t a record you can just stick on. It’s not a warm-up to a party record, and it’s not something you can pop on in the background. It’s certainly not the soundtrack to your washing up. It’s a time and place record.

And unfortunately, 2184 just isn’t the time or place.