Divided By Lightning is what happens when a willowy, sexuallyindeterminate club kid named Philip (who, like allclub kids, lists his occupation variously as model, artistand entertainer) decides to record an album.

Phiiliip

He spells his namePhiiliip so that Google searches return more accurate results, and getsinvited to open for Momus on his 2001 American Patchwork tour. I was atthe show, and though I found Phiiliip's fried electropop to beexcruciating at best, I found the man himself to be strikinglyattractive, in that post-Danceteria-Berliniamsburg-by-way-of-West-Hollywood kind of way(which probably says more about my bizarre predilection for thatemaciated hustler hipster look than it does about Phiiliip'sbeauty), and I was seduced into buying his debut album Pet Cancer.When I finally got up the courage to actually listen to the CD, I wasquite bemused by the artist's combination of Beck vocals, Gary Numanposturing and Larry Tee electrotrash bedroom electronics. I was alsobemused by the constant drug references ("U Did 2 Much K") and thepersistently nihilistic lyrics. Though I still wasn't convinced thatPhiiliip had any real value musically, his album was at least funny andendearingly odd. Not that I spun the thing very often, the cheaplylopsided beat programming and annoying vocal processing making it apretty trying listen.

Now comes the follow-up, complete with an arsenalof guest appearances from The Soft Pink Truth, The Streets, Avenue D,Excepter and Khan. While Phiiliip seems to be attempting to move awayfrom the schizoid bedroom pop thing and a little more into music thatcould be deemed danceable (maybe), Divided By Lightning isunmistakably still the work of that cute but untalented aesthete Ifirst laid eyes on four years ago. More stunningly annoying beatprogramming covered up by layers of digital sediment and bafflinglyoverworked vocal mutations. More lyrics about sex, drugs, exclusive loftparties, nouns, zombies, drugs, clothes, drugs, celebrities, self-pityand drugs. Hell, I'd be the last person to criticize an artist becauseof his obsession with drugs or drug music, but Phiiliip's drugobsession seems particularly lazy. He explicitly references Ketamineand Adderall in the liner notes, both of which I am familiar with frompersonal abuse, and I'm not at all surprised that Phiiliip is tooderanged to be able to tell good from bad.

The best moments on thealbum come from the collaborations, with the clean-edged throbbingsassiness of "4 the 2nd (Soft Pink Truth Remix)" and "Off the Leash(Khan Remix)" coming the closest to Phiiliip's experimental artfagdance music aspirations. Other tracks attempt to piggyback the NYCnoise movement, most notably "Blue Moon (Excepter Remix)," whichsubjects the Henry Mancini classic to the Black Dice treatment. Just toenforce the painful eclecticism of the album, Phiiliip ends with asustained power electronics attack ("Fuck Music") and a low-fi versionof the Boyz II Men ballad "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday."It's all so incredibly fucking weird that I really wish I couldrecommend it, but I can't. 

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