Rafter

I hate Auto-Tune. It will go down as the annoying musical timestamp of this decade. But when Rafter Roberts destroys the vocal intro/chorus to "No Fucking Around" with a sickly vocoder effect, I'm prepared to let go of my rage. In a tradition running from Jeff Lynne through to John Vanderslice, Mr. Rafter is a San Diegan producer (everything from Rocket From the Crypt to the Fiery Furnaces) who enjoys the studio-as-instrument approach to song craft. He also appears to absorb textures and techniques from his disparate customer list. On this fourth full-length, he orbits a central conceit of party time funk full of handclaps and fat keyboard stabs, practically demanding a conga line or bunny hop to bust out. Rafter avoids the pitfalls of upbeat and optimistic pop that suffers from hyperglycaemic shock, cutting the sweet with a little sour gunk. It's also the perfect "getting things done" montage soundtrack for the teen comedy with heart that shows us the good guys will win this time.