In early 2006, 18-year-old Anna-Catherine Hartley arrived along with her debut single as Uffie, the boastful, baby-voiced novelty rap “Pop the Glock.” MySpace virality led to bonafide underground stardom: Uffie signed to modern French electro label Ed Banger, and one other music, “Robotic Œuf,” was included within the soundtrack for a Pedro Almodóvar movie. However as her fame inched nearer to the mainstream, Uffie disappeared from view. Her debut album, Intercourse Desires and Denim Denims, arrived in 2010—three years not on time—with a visitor look from Pharrell. In February 2012 she introduced that she was engaged on a second album, however simply over a yr later, she declared her retirement.
Sunshine Manufacturing unit, Uffie’s long-awaited second album—10 years delayed, to be actual—marks a self-appointed departure. “I’m actually getting pissed off with being related to bloghouse,” Uffie advised NYLON (which recognized her as “a bloghouse-era icon”). “I do know that’s the place I began and I do know I took a break, however I’m placing out substantial work with dope folks.” Produced primarily by chillwave heavyweight Toro y Moi, Sunshine Manufacturing unit steps away from the self-effacing sleaze of Intercourse Desires right into a purgatorial nightclub haze. Uffie explains it, moderately vaguely, as a nightclub-themed fantasy of post-pandemic “escape”: an “alternate actuality” wherein “all of the misfits can collect.” The album’s barrage of incongruous alt-rock guitars and convulsive electroclash synths is dizzying sufficient to open up a wormhole, however in all its shiny, noisy, unfocused glory, Sunshine Manufacturing unit is undeniably an excellent time.
All through the album, indie rock and shoegaze influences butt heads with electro-house beats and avant-LMFAO lyricism. It really works typically sufficient: Although opener “mvp” by no means builds to the satisfying depth of its Strokes-esque bassline, its pulsing rhythm is undeniably catchy. At different factors, it falters; the shoegaze-y crunch of “prickling pores and skin” falls aside as soon as Uffie’s fuzzed-out vocals enter the image. Her aughts-core, reverb-heavy sing-raps really feel anachronistically misplaced, notably when the instrumentals lean towards ’80s and ’90s indie rock. It’s when Uffie breaks away from these self-imposed style constraints that her music actually takes on new life: The frenzied drums and breakneck babbling of standout “dominoes” imbue the music’s ’00s teen-movie guitar licks and fizzy hi-hats with an sudden hyperpop sparkle. Peaches’ introductory voicemail embraces the hilarity of being the messiest one on the perform: “Hey Uffie…I’m not gonna make it to the occasion. I acquired my dick caught within the door and I can’t get it out! Ughhh.”