(t5!) Heroes Of The Zeroes Albums: #06: Daft Punk - Discovery (2001)

One of the essential things to remember about Daft Punk is that before they became the de facto dance infatuations of indie nerds who couldn’t differentiate between Autechre from The Chemical Brothers, everybody in our side of the world seemed to be baffled with what to make of Discovery. It got less than impressive reviews from Pitchfork and other stateside publications, didn’t sell outstandingly, and generally just perplexed listeners who are used to the snarling, often abrasive funk of the 1997 debut LP, Homework, an already established classic before the sophomore was even released. Most people had trouble just getting through the album their first time out, dissuaded by the evident pop structuring, the cheesy auto-tuned vocals, and just the general lack of “Around The Worlds” or “Da Funks” to be discovered (pun?) among these pastel-colored, light-sounding party songs. At the time, it seemed like an absolute career killer.

Europe, on the other hand, somehow understood it right away. If you come across the raved reviews for Discovery in NME or Q, you’d be stunned by how overenthusiastic they all were, saying things like how this is what pop music would sound like in the future, what intergalactic aliens are listening to in their planet’s discotheques. I don’t know what the specific moment was—I’m sure each had his or her own—but eventually every naysayer came around. After a bit, the subtlety of the melodies, the righteousness of the instrumentation, and the intelligence of the concept and execution won everyone over. Some even regarded the album as Homework’s equal; some see it as a follow up that surpassed its predecessor; some hailed it as the greatest pop album of the zeroes.

Another occurrence that happened in the zeroes that was tremendously advantageous to the French duo’s Discovery is the fact that the attitudes of their fans eventually softened towards other pop acts. The underground rock communities, especially, that was notoriously ruthless against these in the past, were suddenly bumping to Rihanna and Britney. If you tell music fans who grew up in the 70’s that rock audiences in the zeroes were unabashedly dancing to disco, they would’ve pulled out their Kiss records and senselessly bashed you with it for saying something so absurd. At some point in this decade, audiences didn’t feel as guilty about guilty pleasures. Discovery was one of the more palatable sounds for the rock crowd to get behind on due to album’s high concept, their engrossing music videos, the massive breakdowns in songs like “Digital Love” and “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger”.

The big question is when Guy-Manuel and Thomas were tinkering in the studio, did they intend to bewilder and polarize audiences with Homework? Was their costume party supposed to be ironic? Did they plan to resurrect 10cc, Supertramp, Roger and Zapp, and ELO because they were honestly inspired by their music, or are they sitting in their French maisons laughing their heads off because everyone bought this prank they played on us? I think they certainly intended to dress up in cutesy intergalactic house robots (both sonically and literally) but not to endorse a joke. Most of the time in art, when you dress up in a costume, the only think you intend is the simple pleasure of dressing up and having fun and everyone being entertained. Ironic or not, nevertheless, they phenomenally transmitted this sound of pure human emotion through a horde of synthesizers and drum machines. They execute the humans-acting-as-robots-acting-as-humans schtick better than anyone else. Discovery nailed the concept of a group of robots presenting their best approximation after a lifetime’s worth of research of what an album of partying and love should sound like—with a precise, technically proficient, but an anxious and soulless result. That sounds like it should be unfavorable, but it isn’t. It even becomes weirdly heartwarming in a way, making you want to go home and hug your laptop after you hear the tracks in Discovery in a bar or club.

Within a year of Discovery’s release, similarly auto-tuned love songs like Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” and Dirty Vegas’s “Days Go By” became crossover hits. Hip-hop seemed to follow suit later on in the decade, spearheaded by T-Pain and his countless robotized smashes. Kanye West was so enamored by the album that he decided to sample “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” for one of his singles. Even the Pixar sensation Wall-E echoed Discovery’s concept, this ridiculously awesome idea that humans can be riveted by a relationship between robots. I know I’m sold.