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**Broadcast - Haha Sound**
★★★★☆

In the summer of 2003, as the world grappled with the Iraq War and the rise of reality television, Trish Keenan and James Cargill were holed up in their Birmingham studio, crafting sonic landscapes that seemed to exist in a parallel universe entirely. The result was "Haha Sound," Broadcast's third studio album and arguably their most cohesive statement—a mesmerizing blend of vintage electronics, haunting vocals, and psychedelic textures that sounds like it was beamed in from a more interesting decade.

Following the critical acclaim of 2000's "The Noise Made by People," Broadcast found themselves at a crossroads. The duo had already established their reputation as masters of retrofuturistic pop, drawing from the BBC Radiophonic Workshop's electronic experiments and the more adventurous corners of 1960s psychedelia. But where their previous work sometimes felt like a collection of brilliant sketches, "Haha Sound" represents their first fully realized vision—a complete world unto itself.

The album opens with "Colour Me In," a deceptively simple track that immediately establishes the record's hypnotic pull. Keenan's ethereal vocals float over a bed of vintage synthesizers and drum machines, creating an atmosphere that's simultaneously nostalgic and futuristic. It's like stumbling into a forgotten BBC science program from 1973, complete with the kind of electronic textures that would make Delia Derbyshire proud.

What makes "Haha Sound" so compelling is how Broadcast manages to make their obvious influences feel fresh and vital. "Pendulum" showcases their ability to craft genuine pop songs within their experimental framework, with Keenan's vocals weaving through layers of analog synthesizers and treated percussion. The track feels like it could have been a lost classic from the heyday of British psychedelia, yet there's something unmistakably contemporary about its construction.

The album's centerpiece, "Minim," strips everything down to its essential elements—a simple drum pattern, a haunting melody, and Keenan's voice floating like smoke through the mix. It's minimalism in the truest sense, yet every element feels perfectly placed. This is music that rewards close listening, revealing new details with each encounter.

"Before We Begin" finds the duo at their most adventurous, incorporating field recordings and found sounds into a composition that feels more like an audio collage than a traditional song. It's here that Broadcast's debt to the experimental electronic music of the 1960s and 70s becomes most apparent, yet they never feel like mere revivalists. Instead, they use these influences as a launching pad for their own explorations.

The production throughout "Haha Sound" is immaculate, with each element occupying its own space in the mix while contributing to the overall atmosphere. Cargill's background as a member of the experimental group Seefeel serves him well here, as he crafts soundscapes that feel both intimate and expansive. The use of vintage equipment—Moogs, Mellotrons, and analog delays—gives the album a warmth that digital processing often lacks.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about "Haha Sound" is how it manages to be both deeply nostalgic and completely timeless. While the album clearly draws from specific periods in electronic music history, it never feels trapped by those influences. Instead, Broadcast creates something that exists outside of time, equally at home in 1973 or 2023.

The album's legacy has only grown in the years since its release. As electronic music has become increasingly digital and aggressive, "Haha Sound" stands as a reminder of the genre's more contemplative possibilities. Its influence can be heard in everyone from Panda Bear to Grouper, artists who understand that electronic music doesn't have to assault the listener to be effective.

Tragically, Trish Keenan's death in 2011 means that Broadcast will never again create music as cohesive and beautiful as "Haha Sound." But the album stands as a testament to the duo's unique vision—a perfect distillation of their ability to make the past feel like the future, and the future feel like a half-remembered dream. In an era of constant noise and distraction, "Haha Sound" offers something increasingly rare: the space to simply listen and be transported.