The best new albums this week

The best new albums – it really is that simple

ALBUM OF THE WEEK

Various Artists – Bleeps, Breaks & Bass (Musique Pour La Danse)

The past five years or so have seen a major uptick in appreciation of bass-heavy, early 90s UK techno. We’ve had books like Matt Anniss’ Join The Future laying out the foundational movements taking place around Sheffield, Leeds and elsewhere and a steady stream of reissue gear on Musique Pour La Danse tapping into labels like Ozone Recordings and crews like Break The Limits. It felt at a certain point like all the best stuff had been remastered and reappraised – bleep techno and breaks was a sound with a finite lifespan (in its original form, at least) owing to the rapid pace at which club music kept developing as the 90s kicked into gear. But then comes along a hefty compilation like this one, and we’re reminded just how deep the waters of niche genres can run, and how valuable the right set of ears can be in digging out the best gear.

Olivier Ducreux, one of the Swiss aficionados behind Musique Pour La Danse, has made this quite a personal compilation. The tracks are drawn from his personal collection, gathered during bleep’s golden era when he was hopping across to London regularly and scooping up as many rough n’ tough breakbeat rollers as he could fit into his baggage allowance. At a time when music moved slower than it does now, this perspective gave him an edge as an early disciple of the UK-centric sound, taking it to Geneva and further afield to France and elsewhere. It’s a backstory which starts to gel around the reissue angle Musique Pour La Danse has taken to date, but the musical selection on Bleeps, Breaks & Bass feels more like peeping in a contemporary DJs record bag than a curated ‘retrospective’ compilation. There’s a common taste holding the particular choices of tracks together, meaning that if you appreciate the same kind of sounds as Ducreux, you’re going to love this collection.

It’s fun hearing some of the flagrant sampling of the day, such as Techno Excursion pinching one of LFO’s wilder hooks from ‘Mentok 1’. You know the compilation-only track from 1991, produced by Alex Hazzard, is a deep dig when original copies go for low prices second hand – it’s the only way to find a true secret weapon these days. The same goes for many of the other tracks on here – gnarly slabs of boxy, bassy dancing business that were probably pressed up by the bucketload and never quite reached a sort of critical appreciation. It’s only with hindsight and the cherry-picking quality of Ducreux’s arrangement that the true magic of these tracks shines through – that and a decent remaster, of course.

There are some legends showing off their early moves, of course. 4Hero’s Marc Mac and Dego get separate look-ins as R. Solution and Tek 9 respectively, while the KLF vs Moody Boys Remix of ‘What Time Is Love?’ is a brilliantly dirty, nervy version of the chart-baiting 1990 classic. KCC’s ‘Def Con Bass’ is a consummate bleep breakthrough from The Advent before they were The Advent. Even for a cut from his first Biosphere album in 1991, Geir Jenssen’s production on ‘Baby Satellite’ sounds a cut above.

But you’re just as likely to be pleasantly surprised hearing the less-remembered A Certain Ratio electro joint ‘Spirit Dance’ or scratching your head at Hypersonic’s ‘Dance Tones’ only to find that Suburban Base founder Dan Donnelly was involved. It’s a rabbits warren of embryonic rave culture where everyone was having a go and the right DJ could single out some gems from the swathes of filler. Now the hard work has been done for you and you can cop the whole lot in two volumes, but that’s not all.

It would be remiss to not shout out Trevor Jackson’s frankly blinding design work on this comp, apparently willingly nodding back to his early glory days Bite It! with a crowd pleasing approach printed up in dazzling fashion, with three different iterations depending on whether you cop the CD or one of the vinyl. It’s the icing on a perfectly realised project, very much by the heads for the heads, but equally primed for anyone who just wants to slam out some golden 90s styles on a proper system. 

OW

Nathan Fake – Crystal Vision (Cambria Instruments)

If you were already in awe of Nathan Fake before the 2004 breakthrough single, The Sky Was Pink, then fair play. Few things are more satisfying that picking up on an emerging production hotshot, watching them blow up, and then continue to mature across album after album of forward-thinking electronic music. Too many fall by the wayside, disappear into the ether, or wind up crushed by the weight of expectations.

Of course, we’ve since stepped through the black mirror into a very different world. But, three years — give or take — since his last LP (Blizzards), Fake only seems more suited to this new place. Crystal Vision is a spectacular example of razor sharp studio work, but top quality musicality is just one facet. Since we first encountered his output, tracks have always felt as through they were crafted for a future still unfolding. Fundamentally set within the techno space, nevertheless aurally and atmospherically he rarely adheres to the rules of genre, a trait that has gone from rarity to currency in the last decade or so.

Opener ‘The Grass’, is a case in point. Subtly off-kilter percussion underpins a sparse, desolate sound that neither rejects the tempo and timing of straight up dance music nor looks to replicate it. Later, ‘CMD’’s chimes cast your mind’s eye in crystalline beauty, with the Clark collaboration, ‘Outsider’, taking us further into the cosmos via slow arpeggiated melody. Even at the shallower end (read: not as infinitely deep), ‘Hawk’ lunges and stomps its way through a weird breaks-electro-bass hybrid, keeping feet locked to the beat without adopting a by-numbers approach. ‘Crystal Vision’ itself is another stand out, power keys expanding and retracting atop downtempo yet thoroughly rave-hued hats and drums. Somehow, Fake’s endeavours are always rough yet highly polished, sophisticated but direct.

MH

Tim Hecker – No Highs (Kranky)

In case anyone’s daydreaming in the back, Tim Hecker returns with ambient as intentional, attentive music. Since his first imperious works around the turn of the Century, the Canadian artist has offered an alternative to placid platitudes within the ambient realm. His albums err towards strained drama and unease, laced with abrasion and ominous explorations of frequency range. It’s doomed to fail as wallpaper music, sure to illicit customer complaints or at the very least uneasy looks from the laptop jockeys in any coffee house workspace the Western world has to offer. There’s abundant beauty in his compositions, but the beauty comes at a price which is worth considerable wedge in the era of the attention economy.

In the accompanying text for No Highs, such shots are explicitly taken at ambient’s co-opting by commercial interests, so it’s clear where Hecker’s intent lies. There isn’t an over-arching concept attached the music as such – just a reminder to pay attention, even if he calls track one ‘Monotony’. It’s far from it, despite the minimal pulse beating away at the track’s inception. The huge slabs of sound, which seem to blend orchestration, synth, sax and noise, grow like mushroom clouds unfolding in slow motion, and just as foreboding. Mere minutes into the record and the mind already savours the dense, multi-layered quality of these drone objects, mixed with a mastery which speaks to Hecker’s accomplished career to date.

‘Monotony’ is also a red herring due to the variety which No Highs offers. Plaintive synth suites give way to motorik scene-setting, sad and sweetly simple refrains and one outstanding partnership with Colin Stetson’s fluttering saxophone. The dramatic drive of ‘Lotus Light’ and ‘In Your Mind’ both nod to Hecker’s parallel outlet in the soundtrack world, as recently demonstrated on his work for Brandon Cronenberg’s Infinity Pool. Wherever you turn, Hecker arrests your attention, loading three minute pieces with grandiose sweeps and swerves without ever sounding hurried. In the process, he makes nine-minute, one-chord drones sound positively self-indulgent by comparison.

OW

Kahn & Neek – Lupus et Ursus (Kahn & Neek)

Transmitting wayward signals from within the Young Echo firmament, otherness is hardwired into Kahn & Neek’s approach. Ostensibly they could be considered a kind of grime operation – certainly their earliest drops on their Bandulu label were seen as provocative twists on the genre, not least the savage, internet-baiting opening shot ‘Percy’ with its iconic “every soundboy shut up!” sample. But given their work on other myriad projects spanning steppas, dub, dubstep and tape-looped ambience amongst other approaches, they’ve never felt beholden to a singular vision of what grime-informed soundsystem music can be.

Now they arrive with a debut album which in some ways affirms their mutant instincts. It’s not presented as a Bandulu release even though it easily could be – instead it’s billed as the first entry on a self-titled label. Clearly the pair want to separate this project from the Bandulu output, and from the opening shrouds of ‘Missed Calls’ with its ominous death-drones and snaking bass synth formations, we’re heading into a more evocative kind of soundsystem music.

There are ample strong MC-led cuts on Lupus et Ursus, with Flowdan and Riko Dan lending some power to the icy wastes of ‘War Start’. It’s pointedly apocalyptic, deadly and physical but not upfront in an obvious way. Rather than leaning on the build-up / drop tension of dancefloor dubplates, they’re painting a more cinematic picture which comfortably leaves obvious drums behind. At times you can sense the smoky malaise of Bristol’s ill-defined (and contentious) ‘sound’ in the atmospheric touches. ‘Bad Luck’ comes on as a slow, trap-speckled grimoire while ‘Delayed Atoms’ teases melancholy with a touch of the sad-hearted beauty you might associate with Neek’s work in O$VMV$M. There’s even a shot of noirish RnB on Rider Shafique-featuring ‘Shallow Grave’ – a crossover anthem for a scorched earth.

In its widescreen scope, Lupus et Urpus logically extends what Kahn & Neek have built up to this point, hanging together as a proper album should. It flows in a unified direction while taking you to disparate points on the map, offering up a bassweight music like nothing else out there right now.  

OW

Polibio Mayorga – Ecuatoriana – El Universo Paralelo de Polibio Mayorga 1969-1981 (Analog Africa)

Evocative, transportive, perhaps even visceral. Analog Africa’s 37th compilation release (congratulations, by the way) is a heady and intoxicating trip out to the Ecuadorian capital, Quito. There, we meet one of the country’s most celebrated and explorative musical pioneers — Polibio Mayorga, in case it wasn’t already obvious from the album title.

Before we wade into the sounds themselves, it’s useful to look at some background. Back in the 1970s, Mayorga found himself at a crossroads, or at least keenly aware the worlds of music production and performance were changing, while the traditional styles of his homeland were not necessarily keeping pace. Taking it upon himself to modernise ancestral rhythms of the region, he grabbed a Moog and set to carving out a new place for himself in the pantheons of South American sonic culture. Not that he was at risk of ever being forgotten.

To give an idea as to his status around this time, 1979’s ‘America Índia’, a charming Huaynito track combining shuffling percussion with jaunty melody, featured here, was originally released under the moniker Junior y Su Equipo. The idea being to trick Ecuadorian music sellers into believing this wasn’t by Mayorga, as many saw him as too dominant in the industry already. Cue a run of other alter egos trying to take that heat off.

Building a parallel universe for himself, the tracks on Ecuatoriana reflect that. Spanning a number of styles — Huaynito, Sanjuanito, Albazo — in many ways you can the hear centuries-old backstories behind these cultural totems on the record. But, removing our 21st Century biases, it’s also easy to appreciate how progressive things would have sounded way back when. The visionary nature of this work shines, whether that’s on the spacey harmonies of ‘Atlas Horas’, or the baritone low end hooks of ‘Munequita Blanca’.

MH

Skourge – Torrential Torment (Lockin’ Out)

Sharing former and current members with acts such as Drown and emo-grunge outfit Narrow Head, Torrential Torment is the aptly titled, much anticipated debut full-length from Houston, Texas crusted hardcore mob Skourge.

After a slew of demos, EPs and most recently a contribution to the Hardcore Up Your Ass compilation, the band’s LP has been promised since early 2022 but due to other project loyalties (Narrow Head have already dropped their third and best album to date this year with Moments Of Clarity), it’s taken until the Spring of 2023 to finally embrace the fruits of their labour in all of its toxic glory.

Balancing an intimidating concoction of venomous hardcore, crust punk and deathgrind, the opening squall of ‘Geo Desecration’ conjures an unsettling atmosphere of heightened dread before the blistering title-track doesn’t so much kick the door down but cut it in half before lighting the entire house on fire with its audibly despicable fuzzed out guitars and buzzsaw riffage.

From there on it’s a no hand holding experience with zero points of respite for the uninitiated, while those already aware of the bedlam they’ve signed up for will encounter several nuanced motifs throughout the near half-hour runtime.

From the heaving groove metal trudge of ‘Freedom Denied’ to the thrash soloing on standout cut ‘Hallucinator’ to the doom-sludge machinations toyed with on the epic two-punch finale of ‘Blood Drenched Sun’ and ‘Old Gods Return’; Skourge exude a deep understanding of a myriad of differing forms of metallic punk extremity, coalesced into one abrasive cacophony of unhinged rage.

With death-thrash guitar tones chugging out familiar breakdowns and a distorted bile-bite vocal performance from frontman Seth Gilmore, this is an entirely new breed of crossover hardcore catered specifically to those with the most heinous of predilections. 

ZB

David Edren – Relativiteit van de Omgeving (Not Not Fun)

David Edren’s work first graced the ambient ionosphere under his DSRlines alias, gliding from CD-rs to cassette releases in a flutter of sparkling arps and cooing pads. Those early releases have been picked up by the likes of Black Sweat for wider release and vinyl pressings, and over time he reverted to his given name to release spellbinding albums such as the instructive Electronic Gamelan Music and the 2018 collaboration with Jatinder Singh Durhailay, Tea Notes. In tandem with the release of his collaboration with Hiroki Takahashi on Aguirre comes this reliably beautiful release for Not Not Fun.

If you’re familiar with Edren’s work then you should have some idea of what to expect, and he doesn’t especially revert from his angle of approach here. ‘Uurwerk’ features the cascading bell chimes and woodblock patterns which can be found on other releases, while ‘Zaailing’ unfurls with a new age elegance that’s oh-so easy on the ears. The likes of ‘Vrije Vlucht’ meanwhile deal in more intricately plotted narratives, moving through pronounced sonic phases rather than simply cycling in a happily static arrangement.

Music of this kind always comes with a hearty recommendation purely for the effect it has on the listener. Such restful, harmonious creations can’t help but be good for the brain, massaging out your mental knots without reverting to the banality which can befall so much melodious ambient. There is depth and mystery to be savoured in Edren’s music, and it sounds resplendent on this latest long player.

OW

A.L. Viktor – Hy! (Hypno Discs)

Who is A.L. Viktor? We’re not exactly sure – Glenn Astro’s Hypno Discs describes them as an industry newcomer, but given Astro’s penchant for playing with aliases and unerring prolificacy, it could just as easily be another of his sonic outlets. Rather than sample-oriented house refractions, Hy! deals in exotic electronica, emerging from that fertile pool which lies between organic instrumentation and electronic experimentation, where Fourth World imagination and kosmische rhythmic insistence all spill together to create leisurely, weirdo lounge music.

You’ll never be quite sure what’s a processed bit of real-world percussion and what came tripping out of a low-pass gate on a modular system – perhaps it was all made by running a Pantomime 4 through a shoe for an oaky timbre, for all we know. In the abundant mystery of the trip lies the joy, of course, and Hy! fully succeeds in jettisoning all contextual baggage from the instant you embark. It’s the kind of journey where you might hear a 303 squished to a murmur until it becomes a cricket in the middle distance of a mix led by tumbledown drums. If you appreciate such delicate detail and sonic wildlife spotting, you’ll be able to while away many a happy hour inside Hy!

OW

A Produce – The Clearing (Independent Project)

As we music writers know, premature passings almost invariably make for musical martyrs, not to mention an inevitable shift in the way we listen to and appreciate the music they left behind. An example is the late Barry Craig, who was known as a pusher of the experimental DIY music scene in Los Angeles from the late 1980s until his untimely death in 2011.

Craig’s music was of the haunting new wave variety. It carried with it a deep sophisti-pop sheen that could have only come from the city of angels – the same city that has incubated the snot-nosed indolence of influencers like Jake Paul as much as it has the idiosyncratic creativity of geniuses like James Ferraro. It’s this amoral diversity that rests at the heart of ‘The Clearing’, which has been expanded and remastered here.

Dystopian city pop heaters like the show-stealing ‘Ashes Of Love’ (which could’ve very easily have made it onto an alternative Liquid Sky soundtrack), are interspersed with dark ambient mood pieces like ‘The Clearing’ and Coil-esque subtexts like ‘Owachamo’. An attention to detail and taste for collaboration permeates the entire project, with fellow faces from the late 20th-Century LA scene including guitarist Richard Franecki, little-known experimentor Josie Roth, and Underworld collaborator Brian Daly all in tow for cameos on such far-flung instrumental contrbutions as viola, conga and harp.

JIJ

Alhaji Waziri Oshomah – Vol. 2 (Luaka Bop)

“Unique” is a word we don’t throw around lightly. But the unique spiritual underpinnings of one Alhaji Waziri Oshomah were notable enough to say the least. With his music unearthed for the rabid international music fan by record label Luaka Bop last year, Oshomah’s music is renowned for its fusion of highlife and funk, and admixture of both Christian and Islamic religious themes. 

Oshomah was a devout Muslim in a country where it is decidedly unusual for a highlife musician to be one. Highlife is mostly recognized as a Christian musical tradition in Nigeria and Ghana, but the history shows that it was, in fact, first spiritually influenced by a mixture of Christianity, Islam, and local traditional Akom. Oshomah’s music captured this inception perfectly. Living out most of his life in the majority Christian Nigerian region, Edo State, his blend of live highlife and funk drew attention to Islamic beliefs. His shows were decidedly spiritual, with the artist performing gyratory, rapturous dances and wise regalings of knowledge between songs. 

Oshomah started a band in 1970 during the Nigerian Civil War, from which the music on this now second volume in a series by Luaka comes. The music is gorgeous; it takes a second to find the rhythmic backbone, but once you do, only a replicant would find it difficult to enjoy its serene guitars and honest drum hits. If that weren’t enough to make you smile, take it from us: Sir Waziri doesn’t name his songs after abstract concepts, but rather members of his home community. The A-track is dedicated to a friend named Alhaji Yesufu Sado – and is called ‘Alhaji Yesufu Sado Managing Director Alh. Y. Sado & Son LTD.’ – with its lyrics owing to the man’s big heart and warm demeanour. Similar on the B-sider ‘Chief J. Aigbokhaode Electrical Contractor Ikhin – Benin’, an ode to the electrical engineering trade as much as it is to the man himself. Oshomah clearly made music for the right reasons, chief among them his own people.

JIJ

Fire-Toolz – I am upset because I see something that is not there. (Hausu Mountain)

Angel Marcloid already has a pretty eclectic back catalogue, veering from the jazz fusion of Nonlocal Forecast to the reflective oddness of MindSpring Memories. Fire-Toolz, for those encountering the pseudonym for the first time here, only adds to the breadth of sounds. And partly because this record itself is made from such varied and seemingly disparate parts.

There should always be some degree of trepidation when you’re handed an album with advice like ‘buckle up’, or ‘expect the unexpected’. Not least if the person responsible already has a reputation that defies expectations. Perhaps what’s so impressive here, though, is that while both those tips are on the money, I am upset because I see something that is not there manages to project its college-like tapestry of sound coherently. All the more amazing when you learn those tones include 1980s Brat Pack flick movie scores, death metal, art rock, avant-garde electronica, acoustic folk, noise pop, breakbeat rave and bits close to library recordings. It’s beguiling and dizzying when you get caught in a moment, only to be spun round and set off in the opposite direction. But it also works very well indeed. Just don’t ask us to explain exactly how.

MH

Berurier Noir – Macadam Massacre (Archives De La Zone Mondiale)

Among the French punk bands who’ve survived the defamation of the punk movement until the present moment, Berurier Noir stand out like a sore big toe. Enjoying many artistic phases, they first formed in 1983, lasting for the best part of a decade before splitting up in 1989. They then reformed in 2000, sparking up again for a second half-decade, like an unruly candle reluctant to fizzle out.

Now is a great time to be reissuing French punk. Just at the moment at which the “centrist” liberal Macron bypasses the French parliamentary process to introduce a so-called “emergency” raising of the official retirement age – sparking riots across the country – does the reissues label Archives De La Zone Mondiale give ‘Macadam Massacre’ (an album lamenting the social alienation of the suburbs) a reissue. It deserves it.

A rot has set in in which unnecessary work culture and austerity have become the norm, as a lie is pushed that the status quo is unchangeable. It’s not a new sentiment, so it’s no wonder Berurier Noir were so popular: famously eschewing drum kit for drum machine (and affectionately naming it Dédé), the band opt for a militaristic sound on the beguiling lead single ‘Baston’, repeating the lyrics “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Each track recalls an early version of Death Grips’ ‘Hacker’, remaining furiously danceable and angrily righteous well into the present day. As the murderous song ‘Chromosome Y’ puts it, “in the hands of the state, the force is called right / in the hands of the individual, it is called crime…”

JIJ

This week’s reviewers: Martin Hewitt, Jude Iago James, Zach Buggy, Oliver Warwick.