The best new albums this week
Our writers choose their top LPs from the past seven days

EARTHEATER Phoenix (La Petite Mort Edition)
The follow-up to Eartheater’s defining 2020 album Phoenix: Flames Are Dew Upon My Skin, the ‘La Petite Mort Edition’ is a full-blown intenso-ambient reworking of the entire album, giving it an anxious rebirthing that draws on her continued obsession with the myth of the phoenix.
Originally conceived as a “sleep” DJ mix for Crack Magazine, Eartheater (real name Alexandra Drewchin) later decided not to lend her craft an established brand, and instead chose to take the project for herself. This defiant act lent better credence to its re-sculpting into a seamless ambient edit. It’s a long time coming, too, because by now, Eartheater’s singing and guitar skills are well-documented, giving her the space to flaunt the more technical aspects of her practice. Meanwhile, the airy, monarchic, grandiose, fire-and-folk mood of ‘Phoenix’ seemed to scream out for a stripping-back. Each song rested on sheer, bottomless gulfs of ambient bliss, and if not for said reverby expansiveness, they could have easily been breathy, humble folk tunes in the tradition of Sufjan Stevens – not Bill Kouligas, Ziur, or Pan Daijing.
This version still follows the conceptual framework of the first album. Throughout her artist residency in Zaragoza, Spain, Drewchin essentially moulded herself and her own creative practise after a phoenix. Coming to terms with a newfound isolation, and squaring that with a long-germinating desire to work with of scores of cameo artists, hers is a pattern we can all relate to post-lockdown. Beforehand, we might have simply drifted into our relationships and gone with the flow. But after the rut of impending isolation, a sense of free will and rejuvenation emerged from learning to become a social and collaborative self-starter.
The “little death” of the phoenix sees a track reordering, with Eartheater kicking things off with ‘Bringing Me Back’, rather than the original’s ‘Airborne Ashes’. Every track pushes dead, mortal feathers aside, focusing on what might be happening in the great conceiving soup that is this phoenix’s nest, rather than on the phoenix itself. The new rendition of ‘Faith Consuming Hope’, for example, completely sheds the original’s titanic, cinematic string progression, and focuses directly on the near static ambience that canopied it. It’s like we’re staring directly at a pulsating cell wall. Later, something magical undulates through the bark that makes up this phoenix’s nest; ‘Fantasy Collision’ actually hears ghosts of Eartheater’s voice dance against its inner walls, like shadows against a Platonic cave.
The album seems to draw heavily on Jon Hopkins’ “asleep versions” concept, in some cases directly referencing the breathless, astral stasis he liked to push in the early 2010s. The new version of ‘How To Fight’ has the very same flow-static feel that Hopkins nailed, with each moment flowing from the next. Like crackling ice, the listener has no idea whether this music’s emotional crux rests in its movement or its frigidity. It’s a difficult effect for even the most seasoned ambient artists to achieve.
But despite the phoenician association with deweyness and newness, Eartheater actually sees this album as closer to death or sleep. She says, “this is Phoenix crushing, undressing, and compressing like carbon particles under the weight of boulders folded into silky soil, and decomposing. She is folding over and over and over and over like the rolls of young gummy stone. This is one REM cycle. I suggest listening to (it) while asleep after climax. You are wet ash smudged across a pillow case.” We can get down with this idea. Eartheater’s ambience does hear back like a sonic expression of pure, immortal consciousness – thee kind that many spiritualists tend to say we experience when we die – after an explosive, fiery life well lived.
JIJ

Mr Ho – Michaelsoft (Klasse Wrecks)
Michael Ho has been busy for the past 10 years building up the Klasse Wrecks label alongside Luca Lozano, presenting a rugged strain of house and techno for the club with personality out front and plenty of playful attitude to balance out the serious clout of the tunes. He’s also released on grade A labels like ESP Institute, Neubau and CABARET, all pointing to the corner of dance music he’s occupying. Classically informed workouts with a penchant for the unusual and some subliminally seductive atmospheres.
That’s exactly what you get on his debut album Michaelsoft, which acts as a natural extension to his prior work. Tracks like ‘In-best’ have all the right elements for steady, constant propulsion, but there’s a preference for mystical moods in the thick blanket of pads and smudged chords that define the track. Whether nudging towards electro or digging down into four-to-the-floor, Ho is a dab hand at decorating his tracks in a smorgasbord of finery.
Take ‘Quitstartin’, which taps an uptempo electro vein and lays on all manner of wriggling and writhing sound design. Somehow Ho manages to render everything with startling clarity while retaining the grainy vibe of his music, striking a perfect balance between the warmth and charm of the old-school ways and the improved punch of the new. There are some rowdier moments such as ‘14me’, while ‘Ngomee’ has the kind of bright and sunny demeanour that cries out for a summertime airing. But this album is at its best when it’s slinking into darkened spaces lit by a bare minimum of neon, the shapes coming at you through clouds of dry ice before slipping back into the shadows.
OW

Flying Lotus – Yasuke (Brainfeeder)
With it’s striking, wholly cinematic cover and epic sonics, there’s no getting away from the fact that Yasuke is Flying Lotus fully realising all that movie score production potential we’ve long been aware of. It’s not that this is his first soundtrack, but it’s certainly the boldest display of ‘made for screen’ tunes in the FlyLo back catalogue.
For those who aren’t aware, Yasuke was crafted to accompany LeSean Thomas’ anime series of the same name, which focuses on a Black samurai in medieval Japan. Conversely, perhaps, opener ‘War At The Door’ actually invokes Vangelis and sci-fi futurism more than period piece, albeit those huge tom drums around 1.49 into the tune have some clear, strong nods to massive battle scenes involving legions of sword-wielding warriors preparing for battle. It’s a short-lived conflict, mind, with ‘Black Gold’ quickly stepping up to the mantel, offering an intoxicating combination of ‘Final Fantasy’ cut scene sounds with lo-fi electro-soul.
In fact, the video game, and specifically RPG-adventure type noises, present a running theme throughout. ‘Your Lord’ has percussive foundations providing a slow rhythm that wouldn’t sound out of place as the metronome for a workshop, lines of synth over the top clearly born from 21st (20th?) Century tools, but arranged in such a way as to capture an air of ancient mystery.
That phrase also accurately describes ‘Hiding in the Shadows’, a stunning, near-choral vocal number that deserves to be played over the top of a panning shot across mountainous and forested landscapes. Of course, there’s always a question when it comes to original scores. Is the music trapped in the video? For Yasuke, the answer is certainly no — this is work you can enjoy far away from the world it was originally born into.
MH

Dear Laika – Pluperfect Mind (NNA Tapes)
Dear Laika cuts a solemn image. Performing her solo set last saturday at clandestine South London venue Avalon Cafe, the 23-year-old singer-songwriter, producer and pianist (real name Izzy Thorn) sits solemnly at a matter-of-fact synth and mic setup, unsmiling. Wafts of great, spiralling black hair cover her bespectacled face. The performance is arresting, grabbing the attention of every punter in the room, causing their eyes to either intensely widen or aggressively close – imagining the painful sonic dreamworld she has built.
No eyes are half-open, because Laika’s music (like all the best music) deals in emotional extremes. ‘Pluperfect Mind’ is her label debut, and is a reflection on the past few years of her life, during which she sought solitude in the North Wessex Downs while beginning her gender transition. Solitude is the means by which some people deal with turbulent life changes, and it’s a theme we can easily recognise in Thorn’s early music education – from growing up singing in church choirs to listening to classical music.
Fitting for the inevitable pain of transition, sudden and jarring shifts make themselves uncomfortably comfortable in Laika’s music, contrasting to the great, gusting planes of synth, field recordings and operatic bliss that set each track’s tone. ‘Guinefort’s Grave’ hears an abrupt breaking-free. It goes from dogs barking, wind whistling in trees, and terrestrial rumblings in the first minute; to sharp singing and angelic piano in the second. “Lay me down / the curtain shrines me underground” is the mantra, touching on a theme of reincarnatic death and rebirth.
We must applaud Laika’s transition from tenor to alto (resulting from her transition), since, evidently, from ‘Phlebotomy’ to ‘Asleep In Wildland Fire’, her talent has persisted. The lyrics “supine beneath the waiting sky” conjure thoughts of an introvert lying on their back, slowly reconnecting with the world in some secluded yet sunned space. Meanwhile, through tremolo-ing synth jazz and atonal rumbles, uncertain graveyard-shift moods are heard on the instrumental ‘Quinta del Sordo’. It’s not all graceful. By the heart-wrenching, neo-barbershop closer ‘Pluperfect Mind’, or the masterful holographic sound design at the climax of ‘Black Moon, Lilith’, we’re closer to understanding Laika’s concept of “queer time”: a cogni-temporal paradox of overhaul, rebirth, transition, squared with solitude and sitting still.
JIJ

Bo Burnham – Inside (Imperial)
When musical comedian Bo Burnham took a break from performing in 2016 following his acclaimed ‘Make Happy’ tour, it was done in an effort to overcome severe anxiety and panic attacks brought on whilst on stage.
The next few years would be spent pursuing other endeavours such as writing and directing the exceptional coming of age dramedy ‘Eighth Grade’, as well as turning in a dramatic role in the Academy Award nominated ‘Promising Young Woman’.
While this extended break from touring was never originally addressed, Burnham felt ready to return to live performance at the start of 2020. Obviously, this never materialised, but in its place came ‘Inside’; an experimental one-man show crafted entirely within the confines of one room.
With songs parodying every mundane aspect of lockdown from ‘FaceTime With My Mom (Tonight)’ to ‘Sexting’, Burnham’s irreverent humour and keen, astute perception of satire make for a harrowing, relatable collection of comedy tracks that become less funny and increasingly dour as the special/tracklist/lockdown continues.
The razor-sharp ‘Bezos’ cuts make bizarre reference to the one man who has benefited immensely throughout the pandemic, while the sombre ‘Look Who’s Inside Again’ and the heart-rendering vulnerability and despondent nihilism of ‘That Funny Feeling’ transcend the mediums of both satire and parody. Phoebe Bridgers has even dropped a cover of the latter, further pushing Burnham’s fearful musings into the collective emotive zeitgeist.
A tremendous technical achievement, entirely written, directed, edited and recorded by Burnham, it’s a testament to the strength of the material that a vinyl release was practically demanded by fans. Something about the shared despair hidden beneath these tracks just yearns to be absorbed separately from the Netflix special, and with album streams consistently soaring, ‘Inside’ on wax seemed like a no brainer.
The ultimate soundtrack for our times, as well as the literal soundtrack to a satire about the current state of our times; ‘Inside’ is both gut-busting hilarious, and emotionally devastating in equal measure. Rarely does an album so aptly summarise that (funny) feeling of not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Or both.
ZB

Eusebeia – The Sun, The Moon + The Truth (Western Lore)
It’s been another breakthrough year for Western Lore, the Bristol-based jungle and drum & bass label fronted by Dead Man’s Chest. Already a notable force in contemporary breakbeat mangling, they released even more incredible music this year with an emphasis on emergent names like Mick Woods and Cozen as well as label regulars Response & Pliskin. Equally, it’s been a sterling run for Eusebeia too, who was getting bigged up on these pages just one week ago for a standout single on Ryoko. Coverage overkill? Perhaps, but this new album from a vital talent in modern D&B deserves some shine too.
Western Lore don’t skimp on presentation, and the triple-vinyl press of this album comes in a limited form with a bonus 20-track mixtape, A3 prints and more besides. The mixtape alone tells you all you need to know about the relentless prolificacy of Eusebeia, whose catalogue from the past six years is a completist’s nightmare. But the quality is quite simply unrelenting across his work, and that comes through in abundance on The Sun, The Moon + The Truth. His trademark strain of cinematic, atmospheric shades is very much present, but the level of intensity varies throughout. On ‘Revelation’ there’s plenty of space for roughneck amens and the title track is no slouch, but even in these fiercer moments a dreamy calm persists, draping itself around even the roughest snare rushes and bringing a sense of mystery to the music.
You could think back to antecedents in this corner of D&B and jungle – someone supporting the album muttered something about ‘the new Photek’, and you might well think of Source Direct in those spooky, steely pad tones, but the reference points don’t quite fit. You can hear across Eusebeia’s work the clarity of his approach, which speaks to his abililty to produce so much high-grade music. He’s struck upon his sound and he’s exploring it in instinctive fashion, leaving a trail of beautifully crafted masterpieces in his wake.
OW

Lotek – The Rebirth of Rude (Big Dada)
To get to this point, Lotek has been on a long, meandering, and telling musical journey. Graduating from recording sessions with everyone from Leftfield to Peter Andre into the famed London hip hop collective, Bury Crew, a slew of tapes, singles, and parties followed, with the man in question stamping down his personality on an already-established team and going someway to help push the UK sound forward. He was so successful, in fact, that the mighty Roots Manuva was soon showing interest, asking for contributions to Brand New Second Hand.
The formula worked, and the pair would continue working together, not least on follow up album, Run Come Save Me. Around this point, Lotek, AKA Wayne Bennett, found himself compelled to step out alone, and the rest, as they say, is history, drafting singer Wayne Paul, rapper and clarinettist Aurelius, AKA Dazzla, and Earl J for a loose band setup, resulting in the albums Lotek HiFi and Mixed Blessings. Resume at least partially revealed, The Rebirth of Rude sees the artist make a huge effort to celebrate many of the sounds he grew up with. And by that we specifically mean dub and reggae.
The opening, title track, makes that remit perfectly clear, dropping into a swaggering rhythm from the get-go, “Ring the alarm” samples making no secret of what the aim is, the lyrical flair of MC Daddy Speedo adding extra layers, with the roll call of legendary artists and scene figureheads cementing this tune as a true ode. It also sets a precedent in terms of sonics, with the remaining ten tracks exploring hybrid takes on Jamaica’s musical legacy, and the hinterland that has developed over several decades now as a result of the island nation’s UK-bound diaspora. A rich and wonderfully crafted LP.
MH

HTRK – Rhinestones (Ghostly International)
On releasing the quasi-acoustic ‘Rhinestones’, HTRK have evolved once again, showing that they’re not prone to revisiting the same sound continually, or neglecting to reevaluate where they stand. Nigel Yang and Jonnine Standish are known for their dubbed out, minimal-waved strange fruits, with ‘Psychic 9-5 Club’ and 2020’s ‘Venus In Leo’ being prime examples. But even that sound came from something more primordial. Over a decade or so, their style seems to have grown more and more accessible and clear, with their earliest LPs working in glaring noise and hateful crunch, not moody space.
They’ve come a long way, and now ‘Rhinestones’ hears 9 new guitar-centric songs, being the clearest, surface-dwelling iteration of their sound to date. Inspired by a recent infatuation with “eerie and gothic country music” – and an exploration of the duo’s friendship – it’s one of acousmatic hurt, emphasising acoustics over electronics. In the 5-song space between ‘Kiss Kiss And Rhinestones’ to ‘Fast Friends’, it seems the only electronic treatment of the production is an additional pad or an echo on the guitar. On ‘Straight To Hell’, Standish slides gracefully between guitar swells and chords, and each slide echoes out – the transient spaces between emotional pangs.
After the midway point, the album becomes increasingly electronic, with ‘Real Headfuck’ one grabbing the most attention. It’s a sign of a great artist to have achieved mastery of their own naming practises, and HTRK do a great job at it. Like their music, the mood is angsty, vulgar and gothic. And the song’s lyrics – “and here’s an icebreaker / you’re gonna turn into a heartbreaker / don’t mess around with young girls’ hearts… so here’s a real headfuck” – even feels vengeful. While friendship is the theme, it can’t be denied that there are more gushing, painful emotional overloads at play here. It ends on an honest and humble note, with ‘Gilbert And George’ being yet another return to electronic form, and a rumination on inseparable partnership, tinged by the orange, glowing backdrop of East London.
JIJ

Steve Reid Ensemble – Spirit Walk (Soul Jazz Recordings)
Spirit Walk is probably among the most Soul Jazz albums imaginable. A veteran drummer and percussion master of the jazz scene, Reid spent time in jail as a conscientious objector during the Vietnam war, lays claim to membership of Sun Ra’s legendary collective Arkestra — alongside the likes of Marshall Allen, John Gilmore and June Tyson — and joined the heroic and iconic Fela Kuti for a stint playing in Africa. Not bad for a self-taught session player who cut his teeth backing Motown greats.
Enter Kieren Hebden, AKA Four Tet, who sides up next to this multifaceted jazz don for a nine-strong exploration of modern stuff — from clubby to more abstract arrangements. The closing, 14-minute-long number, ‘Drum Story’, would not sound out of place in a house music set, whereas the wonderfully on-point ‘For Coltrane’ — a tune that really does come close to that master’s sound — it’s a spectacular example of why this genre is and likely always will be the 20th Century’s most sophisticated gift to music lovers. And lovers. Available on wax again for Record Story Day, this is guaranteed to make someone’s Christmas Day, although you’re probably going to need a bigger stocking.
MH
This week’s reviewers: Jude Iago James, Martin Hewitt, Patricio Caveliere, Oli Warwick, Zach Buggy