Pitchfork

"One more time, we're gonna celebrate, oh yeah, all right, don't stop the dancing, one more time, we're gonna celebrate, oh yeah, all right, don't stop the dancing, one more time, we're gonna celebrate, oh yeah, all right, don't stop the dancing, one more time, we're gonna celebrate, oh yeah, all right, don't stop the dancing, one more time, we're gonna celebrate, oh yeah, all right, don't stop the dancing, one more time, we're gonna celebrate, oh yeah, all right, don't stop the dancing, one more time, you know I'm just feelin' celebration, tonight, celebrate, don't wait, too late, we don't stop, you can't stop, we're gonna celebrate, one more time, one more time, one more time, a celebration, you know we're gonna do it right, tonight, just feeling, music's got me feeling the need, we're gonna celebrate, one more time, celebrate and dance so free, music's got me feeling so free, celebrate and dance so free, one more time, music's got me feeling so free, we're gonna celebrate, celebrate and dance so free, one more time."

It's practically brainwashing, isn't it? Daft Punk seem to be operating under the premise that if you hear something enough times, you'll start to believe it. But after more than 15 listens to Discovery's first single and opening track, "One More Time," vocodered vocalist Romanthony doesn't have me "feeling the need," much less not waiting, celebrating, and dancing so free. This could just be me, of course. Maybe I just haven't taken enough ecstasy and horse tranquilizers to appreciate the tinny, sampled brass ensemble, the too-sincere "chill out" midsection, or the fat drum machine beats that throb in time with my headache.

Few things are more incriminating than Daft Punk's own lyrics, which, while generally deeper than "don't stop the dancing," rarely go beyond sensitive junior high poetry and "could this be love" Whitesnake-isms. But music like this wasn't meant to be judged on its lyrics. And since Discovery relies heavily on the French neo-disco stylings established by 1997's Homework, the duo would probably suggest we shut up and dance.

In truth, Discovery rarely invokes its predecessor's slap-bass funk, and few other tracks resemble the obviously single-designed "One More Time." Instead, Daft Punk focus on fusing mid-80's Kool and the Gang R&B beats with post-millennial prog flourishes and more vocoders than you can shake at Herbie Hancock. Of the six tracks that feature vocals, four are smothered with the synthesized pitch corrector. On tracks like "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger," the duo make it work by pushing the instrument to its breaking point, squeezing out subhuman glips and merging the vocals into a Vai-style synth-guitar solo. But when the band relies on the tool merely as a gimmick, as on "Digital Love" and "Something about Us," the sentimental love songs come off with all the heart-melting earnestness of Kid Rock's "Only God Knows Why."

Daft Punk typically succeed in an instrumental environment, though. Discovery's first big score comes with the rousing "Crescendolls." The obscure Imperials sample makes the song with spirited "hey's" and "everybody y'all's" yelled out from a crowd. "Superheroes," which draws its repeated refrain from a late 70's Barry Manilow track called "Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed," sates with a massive, fist-pumping kickdrum, complex chord changes, and light-speed keyboard bleeps. The snapping percussion and Phantasy Star II phaser synths of "Verdis Quo" recall a somber Flashdance-era Giorgio Moroder. And the 16-bit pitch-bent tones and Klymaxx electro-bass of "Short Circuit" would have felt at home on Trans Am's Surrender to the Night.

Prog and disco have never openly begged for their own hybrid, but the genres' newborn Frankenbaby is alive, whether we like it or not. Still, this beast, however grotesque, is relatively harmless-- rather than running amok in the village and snapping the necks of civilians, it only wants to "celebrate and dance so free, one more time." Just don't let it sing.