Advertisement Something is fucked here, James. The lamentations for LCD Soundsystem make little sense, since it's unclear that there's anything to lament. Strictly speaking, a band called LCD Soundsystem never existed. It wasn't a group; it was a pseudonym: Murphy wrote, produced, recorded, and sang every note of every LCD song. Eventually, Murphy whipped a shifting cast of musicians into one of indie's most vigorous and danceable live acts, but there was never any question that this was a solo artist with a backing band. "I don't have to sit there and pretend it's a democracy and really be trying to control everything," Murphy told Tom Breihan of the Village Voice in 2007. "I don't have to do any of that. It's all out on the table: this is how it's going to work, and I don't have to subtly browbeat anyone to get them to do what I want them to do." What does it mean for a one-man band to disband? Murphy has indicated that he will keep producing records. As best I can tell, he's never said that he's retiring from performing, nor has he ruled out the possibility of dipping into LCD's back catalog at some future date. Perhaps he's planning a hiatus; maybe he'll resurface with a different sound, although given his track record—the single-mindedness with which he's explored rock-flavored dance music with roots in post-punk—I'm doubtful about a stylistic overhaul. In other words, this vaunted farewell is more or less a story of semantics. The crowd at sold-out Garden on Saturday came to say goodbye to LCD Soundsystem the name, not LCD Soundsystem the thing. It was a funeral for a moniker.
Advertisement Something is fucked here, James. The lamentations for LCD Soundsystem make little sense, since it's unclear that there's anything to lament. Strictly speaking, a band called LCD Soundsystem never existed. It wasn't a group; it was a pseudonym: Murphy wrote, produced, recorded, and sang every note of every LCD song. Eventually, Murphy whipped a shifting cast of musicians into one of indie's most vigorous and danceable live acts, but there was never any question that this was a solo artist with a backing band. "I don't have to sit there and pretend it's a democracy and really be trying to control everything," Murphy told Tom Breihan of the Village Voice in 2007. "I don't have to do any of that. It's all out on the table: this is how it's going to work, and I don't have to subtly br
owbeat anyone to get them to do what I want them to do." What does it mean for a one-man band to disband? Murphy has indicated that he will keep producing records. As best I can tell, he's never said that he's retiring from performing, nor has he ruled out the possibility of dipping into LCD's back catalog at some future date. Perhaps he's planning a hiatus; maybe he'll resurface with a different sound, although given his track record—the single-mindedness with which he's explored rock-flavored dance music with roots in post-punk—I'm doubtful about a stylistic overhaul. In other words, this vaunted farewell is more or less a story of semantics. The crowd at sold-out Garden on Saturday came to say goodbye to LCD Soundsystem the name, not LCD Soundsystem the thing. It was a funeral for a moniker.