Automatic - Excess (LP) - Blue Vinyl

Automatic’s second album, Excess, lands like a neon-lit caution sign. Out on Stones Throw Records on 24 June 2022, it tightens the Los Angeles trio’s minimalist post-punk into something sleeker and more pointed, but still restless enough to keep a dancefloor twitching. Izzy Glaudini’s synths, Halle Saxon’s basslines, and Lola Dompé’s no-fuss drumming move as one organism. The songs flicker with satire about consumer bliss and corporate sheen, yet they’re built for movement. You get the itch to dance while clocking the unease under the gloss.

“New Beginning” opens like a synthetic sunrise, all glassy keys and a bassline that nags at the edge of your ear. It sets the tone for the record’s world view. There’s a smiley façade, then the feeling of something off. “Skyscraper” leans even harder into that mood. Glaudini’s vocal is cool to the touch, Saxon’s bass pokes holes through the grid, and Dompé locks a motorik pulse that never flinches. The track is both critique and earworm, like a billboard you can’t stop reading even though you know it is selling you a dream.

Automatic don’t swamp you with layers. They subtract until only the necessary pieces remain. It’s why the record punches above its weight. The synth tones nod to early new wave and coldwave, but they keep their own accent. Think the rigour of Suicide or Kraftwerk applied to a late-capitalist theme park. “Venus Hour” is a standout for this reason. The groove is taut, almost clipped, and the chorus sneaks up with a sly hook. The lyrics wink at commodification while the rhythm makes you complicit. That trick pops up often on Excess. You’re dancing through the showroom and only later realise the lights never turn off.

Context helps here. Automatic came up on Stones Throw, a label more famous for Madlib and J Dilla than synth-punk trios, which makes their presence on the roster feel like a small act of mischief. Excess follows their 2019 debut Signal, which announced the trio’s knack for precision. This time the sound is brighter and more aerodynamic. Where Signal had a warehouse chill, Excess has stronger colour and sharper edges. You can hear the band trusting the songs to do the work rather than leaning on volume or reverb.

There’s also a familial thread to their lineage. Dompé is the daughter of Bauhaus drummer Kevin Haskins, and you can hear a similar sense of space in her playing. She rarely overplays. Instead she lays down a metronomic spine that anchors Glaudini’s ice-cool synths and leaves Saxon room to shape each track with a wiry, melodic low end. It’s the old post-punk lesson: rhythm first, then texture, then attitude.

Critical response has zeroed in on the album’s sleek critique, and that feels right. The songs don’t hector. They glide. The production resists the impulse to overcook, which lets the themes breathe. It also makes Excess an addictive listen on vinyl, where the low frequencies and clipped percussion push out with a satisfying thud. If you’re crate digging and see Excess vinyl next to their debut, grab both. They tell a neat story about a band honing its blueprint without sanding off the personality.

As for highlights, the singles earn their place, but the deep cuts seal it. The mid-album stretch locks into a steady hum that rewards close listening. Tiny details jump out on repeat spins. A stray synth arpeggio, a bass run that tilts the groove, a double-tracked vocal that flickers like a fluorescent tube. It’s a record that welcomes obsession. File it next to your Delta 5, early Depeche Mode and LA underground compilations, then notice how often you reach for it when the room needs a pulse and a little cynicism.

For collectors hunting Automatic vinyl, this is the one that tips them from promising to essential. If you’re looking to buy Automatic records online, the Stones Throw pressing is widely available and sounds crisp. Plenty of Melbourne record store counters have recommended it with a knowing nod, and it has been a quiet favourite in vinyl records Australia circles for good reason. If you’re already building a shelf of Automatic albums on vinyl, Excess sits in the sweet spot between minimal and luminous, political and playful. It doesn’t sermonise. It just turns the lights up on the showroom, and keeps the beat steady until the message sinks in.