Yes yes believe me I’m sick too of the endless tedious indie sleaze discourse — but forgive me this final paragraph on the subject. The output from this new wave has largely been uninventive and insipid, like The Dare’s poser prurience, or only offers fleeting thrills like Snow Strippers’ overclocked electroflash. ‘Indie sleaze’ was always a dogwater algorithm-bait framework anyway—musicians have made sleazy-sounding hyperactive tunes for ages. It’s suddenly a “moment” because a famous photographer is taking pics of hot girls in clubs, and publications need new trends, new cultural epochs to cover.
Finally, after all these false prophets, “Boytoy” hits like a little revelation. Here’s something genuinely sexy, charming, sonically jolting. Estratosfera sings sweetly about a man she’s been going out with for months, how she styles him and watches him throw ass at a gay bar, how “he’s so innocent,” and “I guess I’m so corrupted.” They’re in a liminal space where everything is oozy and lovely, the relationship limits haven’t yet been set. “Babe, with me you can be you, and, babe, with you I can be me,” she coos with a slight quiver, like a watt of electricity is tingling through her vocal cords. “It's just our modern love story.” Rather than light up the dancefloor with a fierce hook or cavernous lowend, EQ makes mesmerizing use of negative space: pom-poms of synth bass clap together, garbled vox pop and shiver like tickly whispers. There’s enough room to imagine the possibilities, to fill the void with furtive glances and blushing smiles. Estratosfera switches to Spanish, drawing syllables out seductively like she’s clawing at your neck. “I'm feeling so cheeky with you,” she teases. By the end, sentence structures have lost control and she’s just repeating boy, toy,boy, toy, geeked out on the infantilizing rush of desire.
The list:
#13 - bleood - “ooo” / yuke - “ian goin”
#12 - anarchy - “superbowl” prod dj ess