By Alex Szeptycki

In World Wide Pop, the London pop collective looks for peace in the digital cosmos, despite intimations of coming oblivion.

Cover art for Superorganism’s World Wide Pop.

Superorganism know what it’s like to be terminally online. Their self-titled debut album effortlessly captured this feeling; their sound seemed to float through the winding digital stream, embracing its endless possibilities and claustrophobia. The result was music that was sometimes spacey, sometimes chaotic — and always entrancing. The followup, World Wide Pop, fleshes out the philosophy behind the group’s generous embrace of modernity. The London pop collective looks for peace in the digital cosmos, despite intimations of coming oblivion.

Strikingly, the group begins this journey by contemplating the end of days. “Welcome back to black hole, baby/Hold my hand ‘cause the end is coming,” sings lead vocalist and frontwoman Orono Noguchi on “Black Hole Baby.” But nothing — even time’s finish line — remains in focus for long: a sampled explosion rips through the mix, throwing the track into chaos. Noguchi’s disaffected voice dips in and out of the sonic chaos as she describes her daily routine: “I’ve been eating fruit/I’ve been sleeping well when I can.”

The desire to disconnect and slow down like this is a frequent occurrence on World Wide Pop,
clashing with the its always wired in sound. “On and On” captures this struggle: Noguchi’s voice
attempts to pull the song back from the pulsing synth tones and their uneasy forward
momentum: “Let’s hope and pray/We switch off ‘till it goes away/And I can break, that’s all I
crave.”

And strangely, the album’s most direct messages are its least effective. “Put Down Your Phone” is a straightforward warning that comes across as trite; the distorted chants of “put down your phone” sit over a plodding beat. It is a listless deterrent. The vocal filter doesn’t help either.  It’s not pushed to an extreme, so the result is more grating than anything else.

The best moments on the album arrive when the band members delve into their own weird personalities. The bouncy bass of “It’s Raining” is greeted by a cheery statement of surrender: “giving up has never felt better.” Noguchi’s digital anxieties are channeled into charming nonsense when she declares “Get me a cyborg grilled cheese sandwich machine” while the band chants “yum yum yum” in the background. The smooth flow of Dylan Cartlidge’s guest verse is littered with anime references. The tune’s meme-ridden internet shtick would annoy — if the artist’s commitment to the bit wasn’t so resolute.

And, when production chaos melds with the band’s zaniness, the mix serves up distinctly exciting pop music. “Flying” is a fast-paced delight; jet engines take off on high while impact synth hits bolster the kinetic impact of the drums. The result is reminiscent of pop punk, but gone space age. “Horizon’s starting to rise/and we’re flying!” sings Noguchi, conjuring up images of  a cosmic getaway.

“Solar System” drives through space but, with its glossy synths and hallucinogenic imagery, does so calmly: “I’ve never felt this lonely, come on and hold me/Hold me with your velvet shiny planets.” Noguchi’s drawl floats through the mix, as lonely as it is serene. On “Into the Sun” she finds herself killing time while the earth drifts toward fiery destruction. Cosmic escapism offers solace from what looks to be impending doom.

But this sense of humor can’t always hold the darkness back. “Crushed.zip’s” cheery, crackling choruses can overcome its depression: “I’m feeling so crushed, so candy cane lollipop sugar and sweet/Honestly I hate it but i don’t mind a bit.” Noguchi gives into despair, grumbling “I think I’ve found a new low.” The instrumental refuses to match the lyrics’ emotions: the band breaks out of a sluggish acoustic opening and lands in a hypnotic groove driven by the singsong vocals. It’s as if the singer has accepted her angst as a constant.

What is the solution to isolation?  As World Wide Pop continues, music and communalism are posited as the necessary tools for coping with the world. The title track is a cheery concoction of digital twee pop, driven on by bouncy beats and choral “na na nas.” Music is envisioned as a healing salve on a universal scale: “it’s a galactic shock, and all the aliens jump when they feel it glowing.” The song’s imagery exudes an air of enjoyable whimsy.

“Don’t let the Colony Collapse” is about making a fresh start on a new planet: “There’s no turning back,” asserts Noguchi. On the other hand, the closing track, “Everything Falls Apart,” is a plea for companionship as the world ends. “Everything falls apart, except for us” — it’s hard to tell if Noguchi’s tone here is despairing or heartening.

World Wide Pop is a difficult album to characterize. During most of it, Superorganism seeks peace and hope at a breakneck speed, defying a world overloaded with anxiety, At times, they almost run into a promised sci-fi apocalypse. The album does not have the instant magnetism of the band’s debut, but it cements their status as an appealing group that thrives on the vibes of its collective eccentricity.

Alex Szeptycki is a writer from Charlottesville, VA. He recently graduated from Stanford University, majoring in American Studies with a focus in contemporary art and pop culture. He’s currently working as a freelance writer at the Arts Fuse while navigating post-grad life in a pandemic.