The best new albums this week
Our writers select the juiciest cuts from the albums
ALBUM OF THE WEEK
When it comes to the axis between quality and prolificacy, few if any artists operating in the deep house cosmos are a match for Alex ‘Omar S’ Smith. The Detroit-based provocateur never fails to entertain with his quick-fire and ever-evolving output. From the raw, sample-based badness of ‘Day’ to the shimmering psychedelia of ‘Psychotic Photosynthesis’, the anthemic strings of ‘Here’s Your Trance Now Dance’ to the boogie-flecked funk of ‘Confess 2 U’ – the quality threshold he meets on his boundless catalogue ensures he’ll go down in history as one of the Motor City’s greatest electronic production mavericks. This, of course, is no mean feat.
Arriving two years after his defiantly titled and powerfully executed ‘Fuck Resident Advisor’ album, ‘Can’t Change’ is Smith’s eighth long-player to date. Predictably excellent, it contains more than enough in the way of twists and turns to once again be hailed as an artistic triumph. Featuring 14 (mostly) floor-focused tracks spread over four slabs of wax, the album includes cameos from UR co-founder Mad Mike Banks and recent collaborator Supercoolwicked among others. Launching with a retro-tinged bang, the LP opens with the seductive swirls of ‘Start This Over Again’, where Supercoolwicked’s seductive vocal pours boogie inspired honey over a stripped backing track of deliciously distorted drums and hands-in-the-air piano chords.
It isn’t long before Smith brings robustness to the groove, with the jagged rhythms and stripped topography of ‘Jump’ oozing metallic swagger, while the XXX rated ghetto jam of ‘Bend Who’ sees pornographic vocal flow bounce over sparse machine drums. Sex lingers in the air for the rough and ready bump of ‘Ice Cream’, where suggestive whispers hover over bouncing square wave bass and tough house drums. Tender moments arrive as a counterpoint to this rugged sonic bluster, with none presenting as more evocative than the emotive pads and heartfelt keys of the searingly beautiful ‘Virgil’. The title track, too, brims with emotion, as dreamy melodies cascade across glistening chords and held down drums, while the sensual allure of ‘Money Hit Da Floor’ sees Supercoolwicked serve a sumptuous vocal performance over menacing pads and hyper-infectious drums.
Naturally, machine funk is a common thread to the collection, with the mid-tempo house flex of ‘Inner Luv’ proving a mischievous highlight, as loose canon synth bass growls over impossibly propulsive drums, while the swung rhythms and wandering synths of ‘Outer Jass Authority’ blend with dreamy pads and disorienting vocal stabs for a proudly off-kilter moment. Indeed, wonkiness abounds throughout the collection, with the startling vocals of ‘Aaayoooooo’ enlivening conga rhythms and errant ride cymbals. Elsewhere, gritty synths undulate over slow but unrelenting drums over the endless space of ‘My Momma & ‘Nem Said I Don’t Have To!!!’. Sample-based joy appears via the feel-good loops of ‘Multiple Orgasms’, where soothing chords, soulful vocals and sparking guitars filter over jagged beats, while Mike Banks’ appearance on ‘Miss Hunn’nay’ is another classy slice of imaginative sample manipulation. Smith arguably saves the wobbliest moment until last, where sinister synths rise over glitchy drums, oscillating as they project their maniacal melody into an imagined nocturnal fog.
As with all good albums, hidden moments reveal themselves with every fresh listen, and, despite the overall dancefloor focus of the collection, the nuances contained within the music are genuinely breathtaking. Quite how Smith continues to fire out subterranean hits at such a furious rate is a question that production mortals will likely find themselves pondering over for years to come. Suffice to say though, ‘Can’t Change’ is yet more irrefutable evidence of the unstoppable creative force that is Omar S.
PC
Röyksopp – Profound Mysteries (Dog Triumph Ltd)
In September 2014, the Röyksopp duo of Svein Berge and Torbjørn Brundtland bowed out. ‘The Inevitable End’, was, they said, their final album. “We feel like this is a goodbye to the traditional album format,” they posted on their website. “We’re not going to stop making music, but the album format as such, this is the last thing from us.”
Yeah, well.
In January a new track, ‘(Nothing But) Ashes’, appeared with a simple message. “We burn. We rise”. The track marked the launch of an art/music/film project entitled ‘Profound Mysteries’, which they explained was “an expanded creative universe and a prodigious conceptual project”. Definitely not an album then. Or at least not a traditional one.
The music itself, “installments”, started appearing at regular intervals. Each track arrived with a short film from Scandi production company Bacon, as well as an artifact and a visualiser by Australian artist Jonathan Zawada and all the “elements” were collected on their website (or the ‘Profound Mysteries’ Portal) for those who fancied a good old poke around. And now it seems 10 tracks are being released on CD and cassette (vinyl to follow, natch). Rather brilliantly, nowhere is ‘Profound Mysteries’ described as an album.
‘Profound Mysteries’ opens with a couple of instrumentals – the gentle piano lilt and bubbling space synth vibes of ‘(Nothing But) Ashes’ followed by ‘The Ladder’ with its glorious rolling synths, and look-at-me swishing melody – before it lays out its stall. Here we have an album (or whatever, you know) featuring an all-female cast of vocalists. And if you’re going to lay out a stall… that’s Alison Goldfrapp on ‘Impossible’, right? It’s as huge and as brilliant as you’d expect from Röyksopp-meets-Goldfrapp. And it gets better when it dissolves into further banger territory with ‘This Time, This Place’ featuring creative director/film maker/Nouvelle Vague singer Beki Mari. But it’s not all hands-in-the-air – the warm pulses of ‘How The Flowers Grow feat Pixx’, the ethereal swells of ‘The Mourning Sun feat Susanne Sundfør’, the gentle instrumental ‘There, Beyond The Tress’ all add to the ebb and flow.
‘Profound Mysteries’ is pretty glorious, whatever it might or might not be. It’s also pretty handy that we’ve got all the tracks in one place. It’ll never catch on.
NM
Ghost Power – Ghost Power (Duophonic Super 45s)
Whenever Tim Gane pops up, whatever it is he’s popping up with, it’s always worth listening to. Here we find him in collaboration with Dymaxion’s Jeremy Novak, an old pal from way back when. Gane was a Dymaxion fan from the start. In the mid-90s, he invited them to support Stereolab at a New York show and they went on to open up for the ’Lab at every NYC gig they played for the next 10 years or so.
This the first time the pair have worked together and ‘Ghost Power’ is an album that’s been brewing for a while. With Gane in Berlin and Novak in NYC, work began in 2007/08 and continued on and off for nearly a decade. And then, when it was finally ready to roll, the double whammy of Covid/pressing plant woes put the anchors on proceedings. In 2020, they stuck out ‘Asteroid Witch’ on seven-inch just to prove, I guess, the project was real. And anyone who heard that single will have been eagerly anticipating this full-length.
‘Asteroid Witch’ opens the album and fair blasts out of the traps with its delightful ‘Joe 90’ northern soul swirl. Gane and Novak are, it is safe to say, huge Gerry Anderson/Barry Gray fans and it will come as little surprise to learn they are very much influenced by old school soundtracks, especially those on the small screen – ‘Doctor Who’, Dudley Simpson’s ‘The Tomorrow People’, John Barry’s ‘The Persuaders’ – and the ripples are felt throughout ‘Ghost Power’. The western twang of ‘Inchwork’ is delightfully Morricone, while the drums in ‘Lithic Fragment’ will have you doing your own ‘Thunderbirds’ countdown and the thrumming ‘Panic In The Isles Of Splendour’ comes on like a ticking bomb that only 1960s Michael Caine can find.
It’s all such a rattlingly good listen, they even have the good manners to include the sweeps and drones of the 15-minute closer ‘Astral Melancholy Suite’ which acts as some sort of palette cleanser before you’re flipping it over and starting again.
NM
Modus – Rancore Perduto (Marmo Music)
Massimo Pegoraro’s work at Modus plays out more like vintage cinema than music. You’d struggle to place it in a particular genre or sonic tract, instead being reliant on the vivid imagery he elicits from his exquisitely sculpted vignettes. Of course he’s not alone in this practice, and on one play through Rancore Perduto I’m instantly reminded of the recent album by Panoptique on Macadam Mambo which also played out like a noirish crime thriller. In the field of music as theatrics (certainly not to be confused with soundtrack music), each artist has their visual style in the same way as any iconic director.
Perhaps you might see a little of Guillermo Del Toro, Jean-Pierre Jeunet or Terry Gilliam in certain corners of Rancore Perduto, or elsewhere a more classic snatch of French new wave. Sometimes the references aren’t as obvious – it’s hard to place the sprightly US indie stomp of ‘Il Nuovo Anno’ thanks to the unnerving carnival cackles which underpin it. The effect is something like Napoleon Dynamite’s small town surrealism given the Gaspar Noé treatment.
From pastoral male choir compositions shot through with ascendant drone to whimsical keys coursing through a teeming jungle, Pegoraro never idles for long in one place. Instead, you’re whisked from one fantastic scene to another, where the background of the mise en scene is as vivid as the foreground action. The gorgeous melodic refrain sees off a formidable challenge from perfectly sequenced mechanical clock-winding on album highlight ‘Il Tempo Trascorso’, while the bluesy lilt of piano on ‘La Pioggia’ almost becomes subsumed by a dusty pad made up of brushed snare and white noise.
On this album Pegoraro has created a rich, abundant feast for the senses. If you prize opulence in music, Rancore Perduto will leave you fully sated.
OW
Shin Sasakubo – Chichibu (Studio Mule)
Few musicians are so accomplished that they venture into the founding of schools. But Shin Sasakubo is a happy exception, and thankfully, we’re happy to be educated by gifted scholars like him. Born and raised in Japan’s picturesque Chichibu City, the guitarist and composer has garnered 20-odd years of experience, having been influenced not only by the natural beauty of his surrounding environment, but also by a long-held fascination with the music and culture of Peru.
After a stint of study in the country between the years of 2004 and 2007, much of his discog has contained this influence in some way. Sasakubo’s dedication to Peruvian music led him to analogize its threads into that of his own homeland – he founded the Chichibu Avant-Garde School, which studies at the art and folkloristic history of the Japanese region.
Miraculously, only a couple of Sasakubo’s releases (one with saxophonist Sam Gendel) have surfaced. ‘Chichibu’ is his most interesting and defining statement. Containing collabs with fellow virtuosi including Gendel, Monica Salmaso and Marucoporoporo, this is a mega juicy yield of Trans-Pacific sonic fruits, as fitting for scoping out mountain ranges in monsoon-soaked Lima as it is for those found in rice paddy-covered Edo. Opener ‘Cielo People’ (aka. ‘Sky People’) has a harpishly mystical aura around it, centring on a riffing yet free guitar motif. Sam Gendel improvises around it, making the sax sound nearly vocal in affect, and rivalling similar works made recently by the likes of Naliah Hunter or Mary Lattimore.
‘Arorkisne’ has a sort of pluperfect Japanese, city-pop-come-new-age feel, while ‘Luz Ambar’ leans more into the opposite, popular Brazilian end of the spectrum, with vocals from legendary singer Monica Salmaso. In fact, all of the ensuing songs contain blissful vocals alternately from South American or Japanese artists. Marucoporoporo’s appearance is in our opinion the most beautiful, as her vocals lend only the breathiest of tones to only the most trilling and improvisatory of prepared guitarwork. This is a deft and impressive effort to fuse two folk cultures and draw parallels between them.
JIJ
It’s been a pleasure to behold Athens-based artist Lex’s transition from local underground figurehead to internationally respected producer of far-reaching cosmic sounds. A key feature of the Greek capital’s bubbling subterranean music scene for over 20-years, Lex was responsible for opening the city’s beloved Radical Soundz – a record store that served as a hub for in-the-know Athenians on the hunt for esoteric vinyl digs. On top of this, regular DJ appearances helped cement his position as an informed selector, but it’s his recent studio endeavours that have alerted the wider world to his particular musical insight. Having notched up releases on labels including Delusions Of Grandeur, Samosa Records, and King Street Sounds, he now returns to Margate’s finest, Leng Records, with his debut long-playing collection.
Those already acquainted with his work will be aware of the distinct sound palette he employs, with freeform keys gliding over hypnotic percussion, elegantly formed over a bed of organic-led textures. The album effortlessly works its way through the gears, starting with the hum-along melodies and emotive harmonics of opener ‘Punta Allen’ that arrived in single form last year, into the equally evocative and sun-kissed instrumentation of title track, ‘Waiving’. A glorious dose of nocturnal funk is injected via the growling synth bass and hypnotic vocals of ‘Window Spells’, before the sumptuous guitars and loose-limbed keys of ‘The Jamail Pass’ make a welcome appearance, having featured on last year’s ‘Punta Allen EP’.
The psychedelic solos continue deep into the undeniable grooves of ‘The Hipstick Rhino’, shimmering over thick layers of percussion and silky smooth bass – expertly setting the tone for the nudged tempo and disco-fuelled flex of ‘Silver Peace’, where funk guitars and enlivened synths dance over the most propulsive of drum rhythms. Maintaining the energy, the Latin jazz intent of ‘Down My Soul’ sees inspired organ leads interplay with aberrant e piano and astrally-charged synths over a floor-focused groove. Now firmly in trademark Lex dancefloor territory, the brooding bass, rhythm guitar and mystical chords of ‘La Di Da Di’ serve as the bed for maverick piano keys to enliven the track, making way for the heads-down bass bump of the delightfully idiosyncratic closer, ‘Patrol De Caribe’. Cultured, musically rich, and majestically coherent, this is spectacular work from the man they call Lex.
PC
The Aloof – The Constant Chase For Thrills (Acid Jazz)
First released in 1999, which means it’s getting a 23rd anniversary reissue, the fourth album from The Aloof, ‘The Constant Chase For Thrills’, was also their last stand (which is the title of a track from their second album, but let’s not get bogged down). From the moment the founding duo of DJ Dean Thatcher and Sabres Of Paradises’ Jagz Kooner turned in the ‘Apocalypse Now’/James Brown-sampling debut single ‘Never Get Out Of The Boat’ sensible folk paid attention.
It wasn’t long before major labels waved the chequebooks, but they peaked, commercially, with the anthemic swoop of ‘One Night Stand’ from that second album, 1996’s ‘Sinking’. Jagz and Thatcher went their own separate ways when 1998’s ‘Seeking Pleasure’ failed to make an impact. Thatcher kept the faith, set up the Screaming Target label and turned in a proper cracker as The Aloof’s swansong.
‘The Constant Chase For Thrills’ fizzes with bright Balearic beats and rattles with wall-shaking basslines. The bristling breaks, sub-bass and spiky synths of ‘Infatuated’ and 10-minute plus ‘Good Morning World’ is as good as anything the dancefloor was throwing out at the time. ‘So Good’, the opening track, even scored them a minor hit, which was quite an achievement when you consider their major label deal couldn’t buy them one. All four albums are essential in any discerning collection, this one is perhaps their most optimistic, which is ironic. Long live The Aloof on turntables everywhere.
NM
In our view, ‘technoizing’ is the art of turning niche regional and international styles of music – particularly styles of drumming – into techno. It’s a huge vogue nowadays, with artists like TSVI, Nihiloxica and Ninos Du Brasil taking the art to only its utmost skilful peaks. But Niagara – the electronic drumming fusion group formed by Munich drummer Klaus Weiss, who in 1970 released their debut LP – were perhaps the true pioneers of this now rather common ‘supergroup’ form.
While barely relying on electronic ‘post-production’ or audio editing, the album still sounds pretty proto-techno by our standards. And that makes sense because Weiss came out of the Munich jazz scene, honing his skills in the ‘60s and finding himself immersed in the then-burgeoning German prog, funk and kosmische zeitgeists. As his talents hit a peak, he found himself infatuated with the idea of forming a drum ‘orchestra’ of sorts; a megagroup built from the wealth of talents clustered in and around the city. The aim was diversity in terms of both style and background.
At the time of this first LP’s release, five percussionists were involved. Among the more decorated bagmen in the troupe, aside from Weiss, were rock legend Udo Lindenberg, and session drummer Keith Forsey. Obscurer names included Cotch Blackmon on congas, and Juan Romero on cowbell and maracas. The result? An entrancingly puslatory two-track album, showing off only the best percussive flow states available at the time. Track 1, ‘Sangadongo’, emerges out from an incredible bongo-bandy disco flow, while leaning into much calmer breakdowns, underlain by all manner of bells, whistles, twinkles, and flamboyant solos.
Wonky and psychedelic, it even leans into more crossrhythmic territory later on. The titular ‘Niagara’, meanwhile, swaps out disco oomph for a calmer triplet-based core. It phases out into an obscurant cymbalic haze – like a sort of drummy cartoon dust cloud – before rounding off on an incredible drum solo note. A fiery debut, we’re glad for this reissue, and see it harkening to even more pioneering drum troupes yet to come.
JIJ
Musical adventurer Mogwaa arrives on MM Discos with his latest album, serving six Balearic-leaning tracks on the heavenly ‘Del Mar’ LP. The Korean artist has shown fine fettle with his imaginatively composed vinyl releases over the past five or so years. With previous outings on, among others, Star Creature, Bless You, Klasse Wrecks and More Rice, it appears that the man behind the moniker, Seungyoung Lee, is currently enjoying a rich vein of creative form. ‘Del Mar’ is the Korean artist’s second studio album – having released his debut long-player back in 2019 via 1Asia. As expected, the music is delightful across the board.
Echoing with subtle eastern shades, the aberrant disco pulse of ‘Where The Wave Beggins’ see brooding top-lines dance over energetic drums, before the cod reggae warmth of ‘Kalimotxo’ ushers us into Balearic bliss. ‘Sonrisa Del Mar’ maintains the horizontal flow, with Latin-charged flutes and playful marimbas skipping over a gentle bossa rhtyhm before an elegant acid motif elevates the sunset sensation. ‘Jane Wave’ returns to reggae-themed syncopation, with shimmering pads and light-footed marimbas gliding over lazy bass and low-slung drums, while the gloriously enigmatic ‘Crackle’ sees house organs and lively synth flutes vie for position over swung drums and ethereal pads. Finally, ‘Tabarca’ completes the sonic picture, with loose-limbed rhythms powering FM synths and psychedelic swirls into twilight abandon.
PC
Suemori – Tawamure (Modern Obscure)
Seumori, also known as Hoshina Anniversary, is a juggernaut of Japanese experimental electronic music. Here he debuts a new LP for Barcelona’s Modern Obscure, and without much pretext, subtext or context, still manages to blow many of his contemporaries out of the park.
‘Tawamure’, translating from Japanese to mean something along the lines of ‘pleasure’, ‘jest’, ‘flirtation’ or ‘fun’, indicates this album’s intended mood. Sonically, it rests somewhere between the music of sample-based artists like Foodman and Gooooose, and the depressive post-trap and dance of CS & Kreme. Chirpy yet cinematically dubby vignettes are the name of the game here, opening on the neoclassical, Redeemer-era-Dean-Blunt-adjacent instrumental ‘Mou Aenaindesune’, and later seguing into weirder works like the lo-fi broken beat track ‘Hikyou’, the ambient gabber (yes, ambient gabber) piece ‘Nen’, and the incredibly slow yet dubious headnodder ‘Kongen’.
Midway, the album adopts a stranger tone. Tracks unfurl through surreal, gritty samples; they sound either like roaring crowds or brutalist noise-bustle. It’s as if Oneohtrix Point Never and Wojciech Bakowski were captured, tied up, eye-clamped and subject to harrowing war imagery, vis-a-vis the Ludovico Method depicted in the film A Clockwork Orange. Except in this case, the music playing in the background is psychopathically chirpy. The overall palette is only somewhat ‘fun’. We must admit, most of the fun to be had is probably on the part of the producer laughing his socks off at our bewilderment!
JIJ
This week’s reviewers: Patrizio Cavaliere, Neil Mason, Jude Iago James, Oli Warwick.