At the heart of Neo-Metrum, the debut EP by Kuala Lumpur synth-pop band Alchemist, lies Julian Casablancas’ cold body, his skin slit and ripped off. They wear his skin, don his leather jacket, and mic-check into an auto-tuned microphone. The four-track EP, which runs just over 20 minutes, seems to have as its main goal being the answer to “Kat Malaysia tak ada band macam The Voidz ke?” Unfortunately, they took that question way too seriously.
The opening track “Konspirasi” isn’t shy about making the case. Running nearly five minutes, the song gestures towards a break-up gone awry, hiding behind the vocalist’s muddy vocal processing, which lacks the charm it’s supposed to have. I love auto-tuned vocals when they work as a stylistic choice, but here they feel lazy and left as-is. The other tracks also show the same enthusiastic effort in being a copy of The Voidz at their most fruitful but also The Strokes’ more recent output. The final track, “Odyssey,” is shameless enough to clone “Ode to the Mets,” a song that took Casablancas four years to complete and was written about his pursuit of breaking away from something he loves unconditionally but that continues to hurt him. Instead, “Odyssey” is so eager to copy its vibes — the length, the note changes, the theme of leaving in spite of loving — and then happily pressing the record button that leaves you with a nothingburger of a song. After the 7-minutes-long track ends, you’ll want to go back to “Ode to the Mets” to wash the stale aftertaste out of your ears.
If you try to trace even a cell of an original idea in any of the tracks, you’ll find yourself exhausted by the quest. Hints of such attempts may faintly mark their presence, but they are never enough to leave you fully satisfied with the band’s capabilities. “Radio Kegemaran” comes closest to being the EP’s only redeeming quality. The auto-tuned vocals are loosened, and the chorus does the work of a catchy hook. But before you can find yourself sighing in relief, Alchemist seems to decide the best way forward is to return to their ethos: a Julian Casablancas knock-off.
“Everything is copy,” as the saying goes. But must inspired works be this careless? On The Voidz’s records, at the very least, Casablancas’s expedition to unravel humanity’s deepest questions invites you to peel back its purpose, even when the band usually hits a wall. But Neo-Metrum didn’t come close to revolting for anything beyond its own gain. The cover art depicts the Portuguese attacking Malacca in 1511, though none of the tracks pursue deeper meanings of the conquest or the remnants we are left with. Nor do they engage with the technological dystopia that runs through The Voidz’s records, if they are truly sincere in their quest to sound like them. What machine were Alchemist using, I wonder, when all the work seems to be done by a push of a button that says J.C. VIBEZ ONLY? And how can we get rid of the machine altogether?
Alchemist’s problem doesn’t just lie in their abysmal endeavour to follow in their idols’ footsteps, but also in what it reflects: that we seem to need the Malaysian version of a popular band to feel valid as artists. It is as if we can only feel satisfied with our art if it mirrors a more popular band, offering the audience the high of recognising where the inspirations come from. This year, we even have a tribute band for The Strokes that’s so celebrated they are booking more shows and festivals than artists making original music. This enthusiasm is potent among local bands, show bookers and their undiscerning audience, who see infinity mirrors of replicas everywhere and still don’t recognise the problem. Perhaps they see bands like Alchemist as an isolated case. But for those paying attention, you’ll recognise these minor offences everywhere. Minor, but major.