A clinical, electro-pop version of art-punk Peaches, Miss Kittin is a dancefloor dominatrix, a sex robot who declaims her tales of mindless celebrity obsession over clicking electro backing tracks that sound like Giorgio Moroder dragged through a hedge backwards.
Lyrically, their album is Heat magazine distorted through a hall of mirrors; musically, Miss Kittin and the Hacker reflect nights in pristine ski-resort discos listening to cack-handed hi-NRG and the new romantics.
I think I'm going to like them a lot. So much, that I added The First Album to my wish list. I did, I'm sure I did. I remember doing it.
Lyrically, their album is Heat magazine distorted through a hall of mirrors; musically, Miss Kittin and the Hacker reflect nights in pristine ski-resort discos listening to cack-handed hi-NRG and the new romantics.
But it's not there anymore. In fact, Amazon now deny all knowledge of the French techno-chanteuse and her sidekick. They seem to have been removed from their database - perhaps the album has been deleted? Merde!
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