Saint Etienne
The Night
HEAVENLY
In 1990, a time when the British charts were filled with the remnants of ’80s-end white rappers, failed new wave lions, and miserable post-punks, the Vaseline-lensed, soft-focus, melancholy electro-pop of Saint Etienne came in like a fresh, vexing breeze. With their teasing references to sensual Bacharachian melody, offbeat cinematic soundscapes, coy sexuality, and experimental joie de vivre, Bob Stanley, Pete Wiggs, and cooing vocalist Sarah Cracknell created their own secondhand daylight indie-dance vibe that, 10 albums after their 1991 debut Foxbase Alpha, still titillates and amuses without any consideration of boundaries.
Still free throughout the plumped-up ambient pop of The Night, an inconsolable, spectral-sounding Cracknell comes across like Duchamp’s bride stripped bare—an emotional wreck across these notably graver recordings—on noirish, Dada-like tracks such as “Preflyte” and “Nightingale.” As heard on the album’s predecessor, 2021’s I’ve Been Trying to Tell You, Saint Etienne’s newfound seriousness and freshly developed blend of organic and synthetic instrumentation keeps you spellbound, waiting for the coy and teasing bits of yore, as opposed to the gravitas you’re hit with on each Night move.
Particularly weighty on this account is the regally purplish and pleading “Hear My Heart” and the ravaged scorn of “When You Were Young.” You may find a sun’s shining beam during the harmony-filled “Gold” or the day-dreamy “Half Light,” but even these sparklers’ flames get smoldered by Stanley and Wiggs’ blanketing ambience. The Night is yet another amazing, original album from this too-often-ignored trio still making airtight cases for recognition beyond cult status.
