Since straight-through-till-dawn-length CDs aren’t economically feasible, we will have to settle for less than an hour of Galactic magic with this record. Keep in mind that no record could possibly display the depth of what this group can do. It displays what six great musicians can do when you give them big expensive audio toys to play with.
Be warned that not everything on Late for the Future sounds like the Galactic we’re used to, which means that they have succeeded in their goal to produce something that sounds different than their live shows. Still, certain tracks can easily be filed as essential Galactic. “As Big As Your Face,” for example, a slower, tripped-out tune has what I consider the crucial element in Galactic’s style: a perfect balance of cohesive groove and free-form jazz exploration that challenges your ears and makes you dance. Throw amazing individual musicianship in to tweak the equilibrium, and you have the best of all possible musical worlds.
Another notable track, “Two Clowns,” is an excellent showcase for the unruly side of Galactic – the fast, energetic, in-your-face jam with sound coming from all directions, each player emitting an unbroken series of embellishments in his own style, with due respect for the others so everything is all mixed up and exciting and you don’t know what to do but drop your jaw.
Late for the Future also shows us some very un-Galactic material. Stylistic exploration is evident and well received on hard edge tracks like “Bobski 2000,” which features furious harp work by saxman Ben Ellman. Jeff Raines adds the guitar crunch to fill out hard rock moments, which you wouldn’t normally expect to find on a Galactic record.
Five out of the fourteen tracks are “Houseman Tunes” (Galacticspeak for “vocal tracks.”) These average about three minutes in length and have weak lyrics atop catchy hooks – just the right formula for repeated commercial airplay. [Pause for editorial gasp.] Is Galactic going soft? Let’s see… There’s “Century City,” a track about a self-pitying artist type, caught up in a mess of desire and materialism where some fast L.A. chick is giving him the run-around and he can’t seem to pin her down because he doesn’t have her cell phone number. Thanks to Robert Mercurio’s perambulant bass line underneath, it still qualifies as a funk anthem. “Century City (Reprise),” a boiled-down version of the original, is where all of the studio effects pay off. Reluctant piano and sad, shaky harmonica make you feel the frustration of the character through the actual music, rather than the words slapped on top of it.
Given that much of Late for the Future is apparently tailored to the ear of the unseasoned listener, will the longtime Galactic fan be let down by it? I doubt it. Behind all the whistles and bells, the funk is still there. Is it too much to ask for a live album next time around?
