Styles: synth funk, disco psychedelia, poptron
Similar: Small Black, Ariel Pink, Wild Nothing, Prince

In a moment of baptismal self-indulgence, “Hit Parade” ascends from nothing into a fickle mélange of gleaming synth chirps, anxious reverse percussion, and phantom vocal snippets, starting out Neon Indian’s third full-length VEGA INTL. Night School like a grimy LED “open” sign flickering on. The brief instrumental is laden with a stuttering dance groove and specks of synthetic glitches fluttering in a disjointed panic like residents of a city migrating to a nightclub once the lights of the overwatching apartments go out.

It’s clear within the first minute of the album that Neon Indian (aka Alan Palomo) isn’t striving for the same appeals of previous works, whether the lo-fi psychedelia obscured in a suburban haze as on 2009’s Psychic Chasms, a monumental release of the short-lived and long-ridiculed “chillwave” movement, or the higher production and abrasive shoegaze flair of 2011’s Era Extraña. “Annie”, the lead single from the album, took time to grow on me from its release in late May. The tropical nocturne, more Prince than Palomo, recalls our velvet bathrobe-wearing protagonist searching hopelessly for a missing girl. Without context, the track just seemed like an out-of-taste, shoddy imitation of 80s dance hits – with context, it pretty much seems the same.

However, that kitschy nostalgia covers the entire 51 minutes of the album like a cozy wool blanket, a pristine assuredness sui generis to VEGA INTL. The Chaka Khan-esque serial killer slow jam “Baby’s Eyes” could have easily burrowed its way into a Peoples Potential Unlimited 12” alongside Moon B or Dwight Sykes, other contemporary artists relentlessly immersing themselves in the creamy bass squelches, arid atmospheres, and rigid drum machine beats of classic analog funk. Aptly named, “Techno Clique” has its roots in early 90s Detroit techno with its grinding chords and creeping “Just you and I” refrain, lyrically inviting the listener to leave all heartbreak at the door.

With all of its lavish production, VEGA INTL. allows itself to be Neon Indian’s most high-fidelity and diverse listen regarding both its vast circuited textures and influences (stretching from disco to the aforementioned Detroit techno to even reggae on “61 Cygni Ave” and “Annie”), and also bears some of the oddest, most absurdly enjoyable moments of the triad of albums released so far. On preceding efforts, the 24/7 fun adolescent mentality certainly prevailed, though it was slanted under questionable production moves like a rose-thorn-barbed high end (à la 1988 My Bloody Valentine) that would’ve made both albums much more listenable, despite often great summertime songwriting. The effortlessness felt like a reflection of the sun in the wet sand and wisps of the ocean’s receding wake, but new tracks such “The Glitzy Hive”, “News From the Sun”, and “C’est la vie” stride confidently with Palomo’s newfound groove and willingness to expand his boundaries.

Perhaps what makes the album such a welcoming and immediately gratifying listen is that there really isn’t anything esoteric about the concept throughout the album. Though instrumentally vestiges of squirming keyboards or entire undulations of vocals can find themselves shrouded under the nuanced instrumentals, the image of Palomo singing karaoke and gleefully twirling around his microphone stand couldn’t be any clearer. It’s an album of reckless lust and a perpetual refusal to reconcile with heartache, the law, morals, and scummy city landlords, no matter the consequence. On VEGA INTL., Palomo holds his hand out to take you on a tour through a city under the brace of moonlight, through the karaoke bars, sleazy club bathrooms and shady alleyways, with the stark request that you just leave everything else behind for the night; it’s difficult not to be tempted.

Neon Indian / Transgressive