Etage Noir Recordings
House, 2025
Parov Stelar, Austria’s self-declared genre anarchist, has unleashed Artifact, and the internet has lost its mind.
Why? Because somewhere in the creative process he shook hands with AI. Album cover? AI. Videos? AI. Music? Maybe, who knows.
Somewhere, a keyboard warrior is gnashing their teeth, crying, “Robots are stealing our music!” Meanwhile, the rest of us are just nodding along, because it’s actually good.
Listening to Artifact is like walking into a smoke-filled noir bar at 2 AM, only to discover Lana Del Rey and her army of clones are whispering sexy nothings into your eardrums while a subtle disco-rock-electronica hybrid tries not to trip over itself. Art Deco proudly features Ms Del Rey herself, and the other female vocalists sound like she photocopied herself and added a pinch of moodiness.
Mr Stelar seems to be saying: “Yes, I know you want cinematic, smoky, slightly sad vocals over beats that defy genre conventions. You’re welcome.”
Falling into Time is the musical equivalent of tripping on your own shadow while wearing stilettos and somehow looking fabulous. Breathless, sexy, dance-y — it’s basically the best way to expire on a dance floor without anyone calling security. Art Deco, meanwhile, is basically Lana Del Rey in a tuxedo, casually strolling past Say Yes to Heaven and Summertime Sadness, sticking a chorus in your brain with all the subtlety of a glitter grenade.
Genre-defying? Absolutely. Disco winks at electronica, rock sneaks in through the back door, banshee-esque vocals scream from the rafters, and pop choruses tap you on the shoulder like a mildly annoying but irresistible friend. Each song shares the same DNA, so yes, they feel related, but there’s enough variety that you won’t nod off mid-album. It’s not a cardio-thumping rave record; it’s the kind of music that makes you want to sip something expensive while questioning all your life choices—and maybe, just maybe, your taste in AI.
So, for the analog purists clutching their vinyl like it’s holy scripture, this album might feel like cheating. For the rest of us mortals, Artifact is a lush, smoky, slightly dangerous romp through a world where AI whispers sweet nothings in your ear, Lana Del Rey clones haunt the dance floor, and Parov Stelar just smirks from the shadows, knowing he’s made the sexiest, most genre-defying record of the year without breaking a sweat.
In short: Artifact is a cocktail of noir, lust, and electronica served in a glass rimmed with AI. Bottoms up.
