The best new albums this week
Four decades on,, The Pop Group’s post punk classic get exquisitely dubbed up by Dennis Bovell
ALBUM OF THE WEEK
The Pop Group – Y In Dub (Mute)
The Pop Group weren’t in a vacuum when they released their debut album Y in 1979. The Bristol post-punk iconoclasts were part of a family that swapped players and producers, practically sewn to The Slits after graciously sharing their drummer Bruce Smith (once Palmolive had departed prior to the recording of Cut) and riding out on tour with the revolutionary punk-not-punk first wavers. Meanwhile Adrian Sherwood was starting out on his own dubwise journey, destined to cross paths with The Pop Group’s Mark Stewart further down the line while forging his own respectful abstract of Jamaican musical ethics as punk was tearing down the walls around him. Pigbag and Maximum Joy, fellow Bristol bands, were relatively conventional by comparison, but they also artfully assimilated funk and dub dynamics into their unique, exploratory sounds.
Through it all, and even from the earliest years of punk’s explosion, the influence of reggae and dub was monumental. It was tied up in the politics of the era – inner city tensions arising from the raw deal offered to the Windrush generation and the still-stinking creep of prejudiced policing – in which the pointed allegiance of bands like The Pop Group and The Slits to the Jamaican music communities in London and Bristol became a declaration against the bitter encroachment of everyday racism endemic in mainstream British society.
Where punk’s volatile flashpoint quickly split between three-chord stagnation and wild experimentation, The Pop Group were at the vanguard like a whirling dervish drawing P-funk, free jazz, cut-up poetry and pure noise abstraction into their centrifugal force. It perhaps seemed wild at the time to imagine a learned dub producer like Dennis Bovell turning his hand to madcap post-punk, but by the time Y was released, and likewise The Slits’ Cut the same year, the creative argument for dub and punk had been won. Not some transparent button-pusher, Bovell’s fingerprints are all over those records. He scoops up every individual element, savours their idiosyncracies and whisks them with his own. In untrained hands it would be a total mess, like someone picking up a saxophone thinking they can wing it playing free jazz by randomly skronking all over the shop. It’s the same gifted touch The Pop Group had (still have) themselves even when they sounded like a chaotic mess – you can’t fake the funk.
There’s so much depth and creativity in those weird cavernous spaces The Pop Group and Bovell created, their inspiration hasn’t diminished even 40 years later. When The Pop Group reformed in 2015, they were able to rip into classics like ‘Thief Of Fire’ with a verve that so rarely manifests with ‘heritage’ bands. The prospect of Bovell live-dubbing them for a one-off gig still sounded creatively valid, not just a cynical cash grab. And so to the prospect of Y In Dub, which is much more interesting as a newly recorded venture rather than an archival rip of off-cuts from discarded reel to reels. With the years passed, the legacy of the album grows stronger, and what might have been casual rejected mixes from the red-eyed end of the original sessions becomes a project in and of itself, to be approached as a thought-out endeavour.
What’s most interesting as you find yourself sinking into Y In Dub is how natural the transition is. It’s fair enough really, considering Bovell was the original architect, but these pieces were already chicken-wireframes lightly splashed with plaster of Paris and gone-off emulsion. Stripping them down in this instance is akin to holding a mirror up to them so they can muse on their shadow self. In some cases, a good old dubbing has actually helped bring a touch of focus to the music – not necessarily an improvement, but a slightly clearer lens through which to view the chaos. Dub versions normally do the opposite and obscure the image with blooms of decay and reverb. ‘We Are Time’ has a lean quality as the frenzied guitar chops on the lead in push right back behind the toppy bassline, and a surprisingly smooth groove appears you never used to associate with The Pop Group even at their least unruly.
Of course there’s space for the framework to fall apart here too – I think everyone would feel a bit short changed if there was no sense of carnage in the midst of this special versioning. ‘Blood Money’ becomes a nightmarish reel of partially obscured impressions leading you down a dank alley to lung-collapsing funk just discernible stumbling out from behind a green door. It’s the unnerving allure of the party frequented by only the most extreme denizens of the night – the kind of place Stewart and his troupe might well sound right at home.
Y In Dub is a resolute success then – a relevant and interesting return to a landmark album, by someone with the authority to get messy with the component parts, not to mention the emotional investment to do the music justice. Dennis Bovell has remained a beacon in UK dub since before his forays into the punk scene, and here he proves the timelessness of the culture, and of his own inimitable touch.
OW
Coyote ‘The Mystery Light’ (Is It Balearic?)
Cosmic mavericks Coyote are back with their sundown explorations, serving up a scintillating horizontal meditation in the form of their newest extended creation, ‘The Mystery Light’. While there was a fairly lengthy wait in between albums before the previous long-player ‘Buzzard Country’ hit the shelves, this time around we’ve only been left hanging a little over a year for the hotly-anticipated follow-up. With a sound stamp rooted in the ambience of balmy ocean-sides and twilight summer skies, Richard Hampson and Timm Sure’s long-running Coyote project is effectively a synonym for stereo-induced bliss. The duo have released sparkling sunset jams on some of the finest labels in the Balearic cosmos, including Music For Dreams, International Feel, and Ene, but – as with the bulk of their output – the latest LP arrives via their very own Is It Balearic? Recordings.
True to the magnificent form they’ve displayed throughout their joint career, ‘The Mystery Light’ overflows with tantalising introspective wonder. Rich with musicality and thick with Mediterranean warmth, the charming selection is so well-stocked with highlights that picking a favourite is nigh on impossible. Some of the long list of standout moments arrive via the life-affirming chords and freaky leads of opener ‘Copacetic’, the glassy-eyed acidic waves of ‘Don’t Run It Extra Ordinary’, and the heavenly summer breeze of ‘Friday’s Child’. Elsewhere, positive vibrations abound with the gorgeously seductive ‘Mint Tea’, with its rich harmonic textures, haunting vocals and gentle acid licks, and the heavy bass and dub-flecked sonics of ‘Cami De Sa Veleta’. The album offers up hidden details with each listen, and the audio tapestries composed within are a genuine joy to behold. If it’s immaculately produced mood-enhancing grooves you’re after, ‘The Mystery Light’ could well end up being your soundtrack to well-being over the impending winter months (and likely far beyond).
PC
Excitement has been rife over word of this new album by Phew (Hiromi Moritani). The Japanese artist and vocalist – enjoying a resurging popularity among today’s lovers of next-gen experimental music – hasn’t released an album with Mute since 1992’s ‘Our Likeness’.
Always partial to curt sonic experiments with a dour, avant-garde palette, ‘New Decade’ is in some ways not much different even to her early ‘80s post-punk work with members of Can, DAF and Neubauten. Still, this mini-album reveals a maturity that can only occur across decades.
This album contrasts strongly to the urgency of some of Phew’s former musical incarnations. ‘Voice Hardcore’ toyed with solo vocal grunge, and the original ‘Phew’ had a dreamier, naïver punk bent. ‘New Decade’, on the other hand, feels static, as though her discography is experiencing some kind of post-2010s time dilation. The rather atonal opener ‘Snow And Pollen’ feels unsettled and restless despite its lack of rhythm, and Phew’s lyrics – “one day, in March, of a new decade… / only talking about the weather…” – tastefully struggle to cut through thick fogs of timpani and reso-guitar. The weather pervades as a theme, like some mundane topic of conversation, nailing that mood of static frustration.
As much is summed up by Phew’s thoughts on the album: “During the ’80s, and up until the ’90s, things progressed along a line from past to present to future, but I think that’s changed… Personally speaking, I’ve stopped being able to see a future that extends from the present.”
Even the two tracks that contain drums – ‘Days Nights’ and ‘Doing Nothing’ – feature only vague lyrical thoughts of “sitting by the window”, and of course, “doing nothing”, while the drums themselves seem boxed in by their status as drum machines, stopping and starting without organisation or motivation. The unusual synth trickery on ‘Feedback Tuning’, meanwhile, hears like a cosmic daydream, and the escape we need from the postmodern mess Phew laments.
JIJ
Manrico & Nicola ‘Le Piante Del Lago’ (Archeo Recordings)
Florence-based Archeo Recordings dig up something rather special here, presenting a delightful and previously unreleased project from Italian duo Manrico & Nicola. Formed by artist, singer, musician, composer and author Manrico Mologni alongside saxophonist, composer and sound engineer Nicola Calgari, ‘Le Piante Del Lago’ was originally recorded over 30 years ago – and very nearly lost to the annals of time. The pair had been working together for many years, and by around 1990, the main body of the album was in place. Publishers were on standby, and all that was needed to complete the collection was a little production finesse. Disastrously, at precisely this juncture Manrico would fall seriously ill, and with his focus shifted to recovery, the project was buried and the music almost forgotten. Many years later, Manrico happened upon an old tape containing recordings from the bygone session, and instantly the enthusiasm to complete the album returned. After a good deal of scrambling to recover master recordings, relocate and restore errant DAT tapes, and apply finishing touches on the salvaged music, the album finally sees the light of day – alongside a pair of Balearic reworks by Ed Longo.
From the dreamy opener of Con ‘Un Cuore Nel Corpo’ to the yacht-appropriate sax solos of the title track, the heavy melancholy of ‘Maria Non Abita Piu Qui’ and the anthemic power chorus of ‘Poveri Anemali’, there’s a searing honesty and searing Italian-inflected emotion to the music, and a sense of rediscovery throughout. It’s probably fair to say the Italo-pop-ballad sensibilities won’t hold universal appeal, but for those who prefer their music a touch more held down, the Balearic versions of ‘Con Un Cuore Nel Corpo’ and ‘Cara Piu Di Un Angelo’ are suitably refined and eminently enjoyable. One for the collectors, the release arrives as a 300 copy limited edition, with the first 100 copies pressed to white and purple marbled vinyl.
PC
The mysterious world of Iris is largely unknown to us. Their only solo releases have so far come out exclusively on Berlin’s Tax Free Records and are exclusive to 2021, despite the fact that the same person was responsible for some long-forgotten remixes all the way back in 1995. The only other info available to us is that their guitar was made in the Czech Republic.
Whoever this shadow-slinking sonic sorcerer may be, they are responsible for some of the most intriguing musical vignettes we’ve heard in a long time. Contrasting to the nightmarish, abstract psych rock of the 7” EP ‘Surrender’ which materialised earlier this year, ‘Speah’ is more of a neo-folk via electronic daydream. Few tracks on this LP broach more than two minutes, and all are executed in the spirit of acoustic concrete artists like Simon Fisher Turner or Woo. Highlights include the muffled, crunching mock-psychobilly of ‘JPT Acid’ – we think we can make out a didgeridoo in there – and the improvisational ‘I Speah’, which backdrops a long series surf guitar mess-abouts against a soundscape of metallic glitter, digital rain. And not least, a plentiful use of on-the-nose watery sound effects (usually bubbles rising and popping) evokes the feeling of looking out over some Midwestern stream – cyborg guitar in hand.
JIJ
Nightmares On Wax – Shout Out! To Freedom (Warp)
Despite his hand in pioneering bleep n’ bass – the first strand of Warp’s catalogue that set the label apart as a Northern powerhouse centring on cities like Sheffield and Leeds – Nightmares On Wax (George Evelyn) still feels like he’s been set “free of something”, and that only now is he becoming his true self.
Warp’s longest-serving signing, perhaps he felt boxed in by the rigid expectations much of the international dance music circuit tends to impose. Ibiza, Evelyn’s main port of call, isn’t exactly a welcoming space for all genres of dance music, and it’s easy to see how his blend of hip-hop, house, and funk might struggle to be received well in certain spaces. Doubly so, it’s often seen as a hit-or-miss operation to embark on a wholly collaborative album such as this.
But ‘Shout Out! To Freedom’ is, in Evelyn’s own words, “the deepest record I’ve written”, despite the extra challenges presented by collaboration and stylistic boundary-pushing. A 15-track smorgasbord, this album spans collaborations from Oshun (‘Breathe In’) to Shabaka Hutchings (‘3D Warrior’), centring on the expanded gifts of hip-hop sampling and the exploration of slower tempos. Rarely does it work in a BPM beyond 110, and if it does, the mood is subdued – a standout in this regard is the Haile Supreme collab ‘Wonder’, which is effectively a spiritual jazz breakdown moment condensed into a deep house cut, and rendered wondrous by the fusion. Supreme’s appearances, in our opinion, ‘make’ the album, his vocals painlessly gliding across each instrumental like reverb-laden, effected butter.
We hear reminders of gratefulness and day-siezing on the closer: “when you realise who you are / it’s up to us to explore”. With that in mind, it’s possible to recognise ‘Shout Out!’ as a sonic treat that can be heard in any order. Greentea Peng’s appearance on ‘Wikkid Satellites’, for example, could be more than conclusive; Peng sings and thinks critically of “dutty politicians” and “fluoride in the water”, reclaiming the part of the soul that is so easily stolen by the powers that be. We can only agree this powerful stake-claiming only forms one part of Evelyn’s plan for this album: a musical “story of the human spirit”.
JIJ
Vildhjarta – Masstaden Under Vatten (Century Media)
While not exactly as popular in the progressive metal scene as arguably a decade ago, the Djent movement still bears its circles of disciples. While often considered a copycat genre due to the endless plethora of self-imitation that goes on, there’s no denying that the genre founders and mainstays still garner their devotion and credence.
Where SikTh are still considered the finest homegrown export for their proto-prog metal stylings relying on down-tuned seven-string guitars, obnoxiously complex composition and utter disregard for time signatures, and Periphery arguably transcended to the level of mainstream recognition eons ago, one captivating outlier has always been Vildhjarta.
Shaking the scene by its shoulders over a decade ago with their atmospheric, punishing and seemingly impenetrable debut ‘Masstaden’, apart from the ‘Thousands Of Evils’ EP released in 2013, things have been despondent on the Finnish bands front.
‘Masstaden Under Vatten’, only the second full-length in over ten years, is as demanding and beastly as it was worth the wait.
Continuing their malodorous assault on the very definitive aspects of the genre, Vildhjarta have crafted an otherworldly opus of mechanical ferocity, blurring the lines of human emotion and inanimate brutality.
Lush interludes and moments of serenity wall off the ever-shifting barrages of sonic violence such as ‘Toxin’ and ‘Kaos 2’ into segments, sprinkling an operatic, near three-act structure across the lofty eighty minutes and seventeen tracks.
Where Meshuggah comparisons are understandable, on their long-gestating sophomore effort, Vildhjarta stake a claim for throne, with unmatched dexterity, and brutalist revisionism of the genre that birthed their crushing sound.
ZB
Of the many 90s genres to get thoroughly mined, re-hashed and done to death, illbient has somehow swerved excessive examination. Like New York’s twisted sister to trip hop, the relatively niche undercurrent centered around labels like Wordsound and artists like DJ Spooky and Spectre, taking hip hop’s boom bap groove and fortifying it with dread-filled dissonance and plenty of overdrive. Jake Muir clearly carries a torch for illbient, to the point of basing an entire album around samples mined from the genre and repurposed as steely ambient textures.
Given illbient’s own predilection for manipulated sampling, Mana is a neat cultural continuation, continuing the extreme flips that illbient producers made their own mark with. Of course, if you didn’t know the source material and process, you might well enjoy Muir’s creation as a brooding, gothic slant on ambient on its own terms. But sometimes art appreciation benefits from a little framing, and to consider the lineage of those dank, noirish beats in this new, spacious and suspenseful context lends the music a compelling edge, as though inhaling the same blunted air that lingered around studios, chill-out rooms and post-club bed-ins in the inglorious days of illbient past.
OW
Khruangbin – Mordechai Remixes (Dead Oceans)
Just when you thought Texas psyche-funk trio Khrungbin couldn’t possibly get any more intoxicating, they go and compile a remixes album packed with names synonymous with elegant beats and smooth grooves, resulting in the kind of collection that could make even the most kitchen-sink-minded music fan feel pretty sexy. Veering between lo-fi downbeat electronic pop, through retro-futurist house and alt-disco, to say the finished product meets exacting musical standards would be a major understatement.
The record boasts a number of delectably flavoured highlights, almost too many to mention, but we’re game if you are. Stand out offerings come from kings of cool dance iterations Soul Clap, who opt for whispy vocal samples, balmy percussion, and soothing keys for their take on ‘If There Is No Question’. Australian studio don Harvey Sutherland lowers the tempo significantly for a lackadaisical interpretation of ‘One To Remember’, heavy on dreamy synths and slick guitar licks. Quantic’s use of earthy drums and chorus hooks on ‘Pelota’ are also well worth diving into headfirst, while Kadhja Bonet delivers a beguiling, alt-pop version of ‘Father Bird, Mother Bird’, looped strings providing a focal point to a subtly breathtaking, beguiling arrangement.
MH
Dave Chappelle – 8:46 (Third Man)
At the height of the pandemic, comedy icon and consistent provocateur Dave Chappelle held an intimate, socially distanced performance from his hometown of Ohio. Titled ‘8:46’, the material discussed that night centred around the tragic death of George Floyd at the hands of police officers, with the titular time alluding to the length with which the man was kept pinned down by the throat.
A clearly overwhelmed, disillusioned Chappelle is at his most uncharacteristically serious throughout the brief twenty-minute set. Tackling subjects of race, police brutality, and armchair activism, there’s an urgent sense of frustration and fractured emotion imbued into every piece of cadence and turn of phrase.
Originally released on YouTube, and subsequently becoming the highest trending video of 2020, this collaboration with Jack White and his Third Man Records label, serves as the first officially sanctioned work of Chappelle’s to be pressed to vinyl. It’s down to incredibly unfortunate circumstances that it took such an event to usher in a vinyl release from the comedic maestro, but evidently there’s clear thought behind the desire to immortalise these words on wax. Less a stand-up routine, and more of a performance piece, this earnest call/plea/demand for humanity is a shot of sincere, warranted despair delivered directly into the bloodstream of the US.
Poet Amir Sulaiman’s performance of “My Insides Out” and “We Must Win,” taken from the same show, adorn the b-side, which also includes “White Noise,” 8 minutes and 46 seconds of silence in remembrance of George Floyd and all victims of police brutality and systemic racism.
With proceeds from sales being donated to Chappelle’s high school, Duke Ellington School of the Arts, the comedic auteur stated – “When I was a student at Duke Ellington, the teachers instilled in me the notion of activism through art. We need more soldiers for great causes on the stage.”
‘8:46’ is an unapologetic, sincere and ultimately harrowing piece of performance art, stand-up comedy and activism, all weaved together by a master of his craft.
ZB
Black Tape For A Blue Girl – Ashes In The Brittle Air (Projekt)
Projekt are understandably going to milk Black Tape For A Blue Girl for all it’s worth. Lead brain Sam Rosenthal did of course pioneer the ethereal microgenre that is ‘darkwave’ – a kind of ambient, vocal post-rock that touches on the darker, gothic, noir angles of things.
‘Ashes In The Brittle Air’ is by far Rosenthal’s most sonically defining album under the name, and continues in the tradition of feminine-faced ‘studio supergroups’, like 4AD’s This Mortal Coil, as well as ambient duos like Windy And Carl. Of course it’s worthy of another reissue; despite comparisons to other acts, Rosenthal stakes his own turf. In this project, vocals are less paramount, and give rise to many beautiful, string-laden goth breakdowns like ‘Is It The Love That Dare Not Be?’ and ‘I Ran To You’.
Where Sue Kenny-Smith doesn’t take the stage on vocals, Rosenthal himself steps up to the plate, exemplified by hypnotic cuts like ‘I Wish You Could Smile’, wherein themes of unrequited platonic care and mute disaffect are touched on.
This expanded edition also features no end of bonus material, including the synth-laden tracks transposed over from Rosenthal’s later ‘The Sound Of Waves’ EP, as well as various lost demos and early mixes – our highlight is the expansive, art-rocky ‘We Return’.
JIJ
Alabama Shakes – Sound & Colour (Deluxe Edition) (Rough Trade)
You can’t help but feel genuine sadness listening to Alabama Shakes coveted second and final studio album. A testament to how talented the Alabama four piece were, the years between then and now are pockmarked with solo work and — on the part of Steve Johnson — horrific controversies, with charges and indictments for child abuse, domestic violence, harassment and stalking.
First unveiled in 2015, at the time Sound & Colour garnered rave reviews, heralded as one of the finest Americana works in many years, and — in the case of one critic — praised for managing to strike the unarguably difficult balance of being “authentically weird”. Six years on, it’s not hard to understand why the response was so overwhelmingly positive.
As with the outfit’s first LP, the influences of rhythm and blues, and unapologetic guitar garage are clear to hear from the off, with tracks such as ‘Gimme All Your Love’, ‘Guess Who’, and ‘Shoegaze’ arguably combining to offer the best example of their range. Respectively dramatic barroom tortured soul stuff, low-lit bourbon swamp rock, and road trip-worthy rock ’n roll freight trains, this version also showcases on-stage prowess via live tracks recorded at the legendary Capitol Records Studio A.
MH
Mastadon – Hushed & Grim (Warner)
If there was ever a band to consistently shed their skin time and time again, it’s Mastodon. The journey of the sludge/post/alternative metal band has been one of constant growth, subversion and abandon.
From the conceptual watermarks of ‘Leviathan’ and ‘Blood Mountain’, to the prog opus of ‘Crack The Skye’, all the way to their later, more “accessible” material found on ‘Once More Round The Sun’, there’s always been the inescapable sense that Mastodon’s identity lies in their willingness to sonically expand with each project, whilst continuing to maintain a most unique sense of personality.
Where many felt 2017’s ‘Emperor Of Sand’ marked a return to form, running the gamut of tried and tested sonic avenues, ‘Hushed & Grim’ seeks to triumph over its predecessor(s) with a grandiose epic, mammoth in scale and emotion.
Dedicated to long-time manager and friend Nick John who passed away in 2018 after a lengthy battle with cancer, the material spread across these sprawling fifteen tracks is arguably their most emotive and dynamic since drummer Brann Dailor took the tragic death of his sister through a prog journey of healing and self-discovery back in 2009.
Blistering cuts like ‘Pushing The Tides’ showcase the four-piece at their most dissonant and disjointed, with off-kilter math-sludge riffs consistently pummelling down while a three vocal maelstrom ensues. Offsetting the sheer aggression is the more nuanced, slow burn found on certain pieces; ‘Teardrinker’ serves as a true highlight, not just of the project but the group’s entire discography, operating with noodling, power-prog riffage that swells and cascades with precise abandon.
At a near hour and a half, if ever a metallic force possessed the capabilities to deliver an enthralling double album, utilising all of their previously explored territory to conjure up an experience both intimidating and welcoming, alien yet familiar, vast but intimate, it’s the call of the Mastodon.
ZB
Sam Gendel – Fresh Bread (Leaving Records)
Sam Gendel has risen to low-key prominence relatively recently. Anyone who enjoys surfing the gentle Cali-sober waves from Leaving Records should be attuned to his sax-oriented experiments, not least the remarkable collaborative albums with Sam Wilkes and Josiah Steinbrick. With a soul jazz lilt to his playing and the free-wheeling spirit of true emotional expression bedded into the notes, Gendel’s music lands with immediacy while offering intrigue for those who crave a challenge with their listening experience.
Fresh Bread is a collection comprised of Gendel’s home recordings and gig captures between 2012 and 2020. It’s the document of a productive soul with an innate language they can speak through their chosen instrument, occasionally ornamented by a little C78 beatdown or a guest spot from someone such as Carlos Niño. Across 52 tracks, the digital release takes you deep into Gendel’s sound, but it’s a staggeringly consistent ride. You’d expect a fair amount of homespun offcuts to at least be irritating or half-baked, but even the more lo-fi offerings radiate the charming glow Gendel’s more ‘official’ releases have emanated to date. Mellow of mood and with no mission to impress, Fresh Bread simply sits and asks nothing of its listener. Instead, it’s up to the listener to dig around inside this treasure trove of musical miniatures and marvel at the abundance of hidden gems.
OW
This week’s reviewers: Martin Hewitt, Jude Iago James, Zach Buggy, Oli Warwick, Patrizio Cavaliere.