Stereolab - Mars Audiac Quintet (3LP)

By the time Stereolab hit their third LP in 1994, they had already carved a peculiar little channel through indie rock, one that ran on motorik rhythms, analogue keys and the calm poise of Lætitia Sadier’s voice. Mars Audiac Quintet is where that current turns bright and buoyant. The fuzz is still there, but the edges soften; hooks peek through the layers; Mary Hansen’s harmonies braid around Sadier in a way that feels like sunlight on chrome. It’s the record I point to when someone asks why people still chase Stereolab vinyl all these years later.

Three-Dee Melodie sets the tone straight away. It glides rather than stomps, the guitars locked to a patient pulse while Farfisa and Moog colours flicker across the stereo field. You can hear Tim Gane’s love of repetition as a generative force. He and Sadier treat grooves like architecture. Build a simple line, keep it steady, then decorate with little melodic balconies and spiral staircases. Sean O’Hagan’s ear is in there too, sweetening the palette with those candy-toned keys that hint at the lounge and library records he loves, but never tipping the music into kitsch.

If you know a few tracks by name, it’s probably because of Ping Pong. The tune is a handclap pop song with lyrics about boom and bust cycles, delivered as if reading a calmly annotated graph. It’s cheeky and oddly catchy, and it became one of the band’s best-known moments for a reason. It’s also a neat example of the Stereolab trick: make you hum along while you mull over the politics humming beneath. People still argue in shop aisles about whether the song predicted anything or simply noted the obvious, which is a good sign the art did its job.

Wow and Flutter is another standout, riding a hypnotic chord pattern that feels like a train viewed from a platform. The title tips the hat to tape and synth imperfections, and the track seems to celebrate them, letting organ tones wobble just enough to give the trance some life. Transona Five has more bite, a chugging rhythm guitar cutting through the swirl while the vocal lines relax on top. As ever, Sadier’s switches between English and French feel less like a party trick and more like an extension of the band’s dual nature, utopian and analytical at once.

Where the previous album leaned harder into noise, Mars Audiac Quintet shoots for a sleeker pop shape. The rhythms are more nimble, the bass lines more buoyant. Andy Ramsay’s drumming keeps everything clipped and forward, and the arrangements leave space for the ear to wander. You can hear why it became a gateway record, the one your mate at a Melbourne record store might slip on a Sunday arvo when the sun hits the racks just right. It’s approachable, but it doesn’t sand off the band’s odd angles.

Critics at the time clocked the shift. UK press noted how the group had turned insistent repetition into something romantic, even playful, without losing their experimental nerve. Later reappraisals have only grown warmer. You’ll find plenty of love for it in long-view pieces that place Stereolab at the crossroads of krautrock, French pop, post-rock and whatever bin housed those 60s and 70s library LPs with geometric covers. It’s the sound of a band deepening its language, moving toward the widescreen swing of Emperor Tomato Ketchup while keeping the homespun valves glowing.

On vinyl, this album really breathes. Those looping bass figures get a touch more chew, and the stacked vocals float with a little extra air around them. If you’re crate-digging or planning to buy Stereolab records online, Mars Audiac Quintet vinyl is an easy recommendation, especially if you like the idea of an art-pop record you can play to a room without scaring off the non-obsessives. Among Stereolab albums on vinyl, it’s one that gets regular spins at my place, sharing time with the early singles comps and the mid-period heavy hitters.

There’s also something quietly comforting about how human it feels. The analogue organs, the patient patterns, the sense of a group playing with clear intent rather than chasing the zeitgeist. In a world that often files Stereolab under “influential” before “enjoyable,” this is a reminder you can have both. If you’re in Australia and hunting through the usual suspects for vinyl records Australia wide, keep an eye out. Mars Audiac Quintet represents the band at a sweet inflection point, where their ideas clicked into songs you could carry around. It’s head music you can hum, which is rarer than you’d think.