Somewhere in the fashion industry, trendsetters are busy deciding what defines the next season—whether it is barrel-leg jeans or giant jorts. While the underground pop scene rarely operates with such calculated cycles, Montreal-based electronic musician CFCF, also known as Michael Silver, has positioned himself as the perfect architect for a bespoke revival of past sounds. Following his explorations into new-age electronica and the Y2K-inspired cult classic Memoryland, Silver returns with L.U.V. (short for Life in Ultra Violet).

On this latest project, Silver performs a reverential refurbishment of the strobe-lit dance pop that dominated the 2000s and early 2010s. He meticulously combs through the era’s sonic references, delivering an extra-juicy, secretly sincere take on the aesthetic of skinny-stripe tees and Risky Business sunglasses.

A Sincere Take on Sleaze

L.U.V. centers on the fundamental subject of pop music: love. However, Silver plays with the irony factor, crafting songs that technically address hot babes, cocaine, and disillusionment, only to double back and reveal a genuine affection for the source material. The album draws inspiration from the celestial synth risers of Alan Braxe and Fred Falke, the arpeggios of Fischerspooner, and the iconic robot talkbox funk of Daft Punk. By laundering these outwardly uncultured fascinations into clever, often humorous compositions, Silver elevates the material beyond mere pastiche.

The Paradox of “Bad” Music

A central theme of the album is the self-loathing often associated with loving music deemed “bad” by critical standards. In the standout track “Bad Song,” featuring vocalist Cecile Believe, the lyrics confront this internal conflict directly. By breaking one taste taboo, Silver creates space to explore others, resulting in tracks that are as intellectually playful as they are danceable. His radical remake of a song by the Ponys, transformed into a dance-punk waterslide, exemplifies his ability to make the past feel startlingly present.

Ultimately, L.U.V. is a testament to the power of the fan’s-fan perspective. With nods to artists like Tiga, Hot Chip, and Madonna, the album is a loopy, high-energy celebration of pop history that never feels like a commodity. It is a record for those who recognize that while it has all been done before, there is still plenty of joy to be found in doing it again with style.