RIP Magic’s debut album 1,2,3 is constantly shape-shifting. Made by a London four-piece with a fascination for America at its most ostentatious, the music turns on a dime, conjuring strange, outsized scenes: the rush of a car chase, the surreal joy of a parade, or the marvel of a stadium, sometimes all within the same song. A rock record with no guitars, 1,2,3 finds its weight elsewhere: live drums and bass collide with synths, vocals and samples, pulling just as freely from hip-hop, dub, and club music. The songs move with different impulses but are all guided by intuition and the simple love of making music, never afraid to shy away from a freeing sense of naivety.Brash transitions shove you from one room into another before you’ve quite got your bearings, each opening into a different world. But for all its chaos, 1,2,3 is ultimately a joyful record. It’s one that embraces collision, surrenders to the spectacle and asks you to simply enjoy the ride.“Stadium Drive” is RIP Magic at their most spectacular: huge, carnivalesque and blown up to stadium scale. The song channels the sensory overload of American sports, from roaring NASCAR cars to booming announcements and the strange theatre happening around all the action itself. A towering female vocal sample arrives like a billboard interrupting the action before the scene barrels onward, the music itself becoming a vehicle for all that speed, scale, and spectacle.
