The best new singles this week
Our writers pick their winners from the past seven days
SINGLE OF THE WEEK
Annie Hall – Memories That Never Happened (CPU)
Annie Hall’s first release came way back in 2008 for cult electro label D1, but it’s in recent years her output has ramped up considerably. As electro has boomed outside of its long tenure in the burrows of the underground, her approach has marked her out. Electro, like any genre, has fallen foul of identikit productions being churned out by labels and artists at a rate of knots, but the upside is the genuinely compelling music shines through for offering something to add to the sound rather than leeching from it.
Marking her third EP for CPU, Hall’s individuality shines through instantly on ‘Memories That Never Happened’. It’s certainly electro, marked out by crooked machine funk rhythms, but the overall mood is more tilted towards the kind of sharp, focused electronica once found on the likes of Ai Records. The interplay between melancholic tones up top and a confidently melodic bassline down below creates a warmly emotive tone which is easy to connect with. It’s rainy day digitalia for headphone excursions, much more than just straight up club fodder.
‘Problematic Tape Recorder’ has a more strident rhythm section – the beats snap with purpose, but once again it’s the composition which lifts the track. The chords peal out with blissful positivity, and there’s even space for a flute-like thread in the later stages of the track which inject real soul into the track.
Hall is comfortable in her voice to move into distinct spaces within each track, favouring a submerged, dub-informed sonic for ‘Subsequent Experiments’ and simmering down for the heat haze of ‘Unparalleled Comfort’, making this an EP which functions like a release to be listened to end to end – a mini-album of sorts with different zones to explore and revisit. CPU has become a reliable bastion for this kind of expressive electro, and even within that accomplished milieu Hall’s work shines through as something special.
OW
Civilistjavel! – Fyra Plaster (Civilistjavel!)
Attentive underground music fans will have noted another live appearance from Civilistjavel! in South London last week, thanks to a recent explosion in the Swedish artist’s popularity. The venue was just about as Civilistjavel! as you could get. Spanners, tucked away in a tiny railway arch in Loughborough Junction between Brixton and Camberwell, accommodates few more than 50 people (60 on good days). Two labels in collaboration, ANA and FELT, ensured this was a mystery occasion for incense and polite manners, not gunfingers and louty lads.
This review compares live set and EP, giving an overall insider’s impression of a humble artist. ‘Fyra Plaster’ might be listed as B-stock on the Juno site, but it is a new release. Immediately, we’re launched into the noise-laced feedback clusters of ‘Sebäng’, run through Civilist’s usual looping devices. But they’re are also subject to changes in texture and timbre over time, which make them sound like enormous mechas blaring their war horns over distant, future-apocalyptic vistas. The trend continues: careful control of reverb and delay, especially on Cucina Povera’s voice, makes ‘Louhivesi’ sound at once up-close, but also faraway. The invocation of specific, far-off Swedish coastal areas in the track titles is equally put forth by the music, with ‘Kolugn’ sounding like what one might hear-llucinate when standing on the edge of a cliff and blocking out all natural noise with our hands. ‘Valmsta’ too, with its rubble-noise and slow pulse, recalls the calm quietude of traipsing across marshy strands back to your ramshackle cottage, like in the recent film Enys Men.
The EP is far calmer and more reflective than the, dare we say, dancehally live set performed at Spanners. And yet for all this interest, still little is known about the affectionately nicknamed ‘Civilist’. Sources close to this reviewer say he’s finally found a fandom after decades of circulating his music in the form of cassettes through personal, private trading networks of friends. Perhaps ‘Fyra Plaster’ marks the moment at which we can no longer indulge this origin myth, and when we finally offer our appreciation to a full vessel.
JIJ
Never one to attach excessive fanfare to his releases, Pev unassumingly returns to Livity Sound with an EP which neatly reminds us why he remains held in such high regard. Through the pandemic chaos he seems to have poured more energy into building up Livity and pushing the work of other artists, but the Pulse EP was worth the wait as his first fully fledged release since 2017’s Tessellations album.
These days, the genre-ambiguous corner of club music Pev has helped pioneer is marked out by individualism – artistic flair within the context of soundsystem-oriented sounds. That can sometimes lead to uneven results, but there’s a calm, considered approach to the Pulse EP which is absolutely true to Pev’s past achievements while still sounding like it heads in unique directions. Each of these ‘Pulses’ has its own approach, and yet they all hang together beautifully. There’s an airiness to the mix, with ample space for each thoughtful sound to glide, while all the weight you would expect is there in abundance. Dynamic shifts in ‘Pulse I’ are carried out with a minimum of fuss, all anchored by the centrifugal force of the titular blips coursing through the middle of the frequency range.
If ‘Pulse I’ charges forward as a linear slice of 135 broken techno, ‘Pulse II’ favours the kind of jagged edges and dubby atmospherics which feel most closely aligned with the earlier Peverelist releases. It’s certainly not some Bristol dubstep throwback, but the percussion is unmistakably his own – the sound of an artist cognisant of his own creative trajectory.
The clipped chord sequence on ‘Pulse III’ teeters towards something almost anthemic, which isn’t an approach you’d usually associate with Pev. It’s a sound you’d perhaps align with Detroit techno – certainly a pool of influence for Pev over the years, but it’s re-contextualised by the power of the melodic sub line which comes looming in as the track kicks into gear. Quite how he manages to make something so techno-tilted still sound like vintage Pev is anyone’s guess, but therein lies the magic.
The most stark swerve is reserved for the B2, as is always the case with the best EPs. ‘Pulse IV’ perhaps reflects a broader trend at play in club music, where the foundational influence of bleep techno has started to seep back into a variety of scenes. It’s a very tangible touch not least in the bass, but also in the fast attack of the lead synth hook and the vintage drum machine jack, drawing on the spirit of early LFO and giving it a Livity shimmer. Rest assured, this is no genre-study facsimile though, but rather a wonderful ‘what-if?’ given a formidable answer. What would it sound like if Pev took a stab at bleep? As good as this – a welcome twist and yet wholly unsurprising at the same time.
OW
Rully Djohan / Munif – Bubuj Bula (Soundway)
Soundway Records follow on from last year’s excellent ‘Padang Moonrise’ compilation with another deep dive into the exotic soundscapes of 1970s Indonesia. Both tracks featured on this 7” originate from the country’s (and, in fact, the world’s) most populous Island, Java, and each is endowed with a timeless sense of mystical wonder.
The A-side features a version of the Indonesian classic ‘Bubuj Bulan’ by Rully Djohan and first appeared on his album of instrumental covers of popular Indonesian songs recorded between 1971 and 1972. The intoxicating music contains delicate hints of Indian, Ethiopian, and Egyptian jazz blended amongst traditional Javanese instrumentation, with dubbed-out swells adding a psychedelic flourish to a song that’s been recorded by any number of vocalists over the years. Djohan recorded the piece alongside The Galaxies Band, whose leader and arranger, Jopie Item, performs the sitar accompaniment.
Over on the other side, we find the deep funk of ‘Naghm El Uns’ by the late Munif Bahasuan. Actively recording from as far back as the 1950s, Jakarta-based Munif was known to perform Malay, Gambus, jazz, pop and even Indian music, and his prowess for singing in Arabic is brilliantly displayed on the featured track here.
Islam is the dominant religion in large parts of Indonesia, and there has been a small population of people of Middle Eastern origin living across the archipelago from as far back as the glory days of the spice trade. While Bahasa is the most common language spoken or sung, the Arabic tradition is kept alive through song, and ‘Naghm El Uns’ is a glorious example of fusionist 70s funk with an unmistakably Arabic core. Vocal chants, agile keys and growling guitars meander over rolling drums as horn solos and sweeping strings interplay with the arresting vocal. Steeped in atmosphere and a discreetly sinister edge, the track completes another jewel of a release from the Soundway camp.
PC
Eddie Fowlkes – AHYEE EP (Classic Music Company)
These days it’s widely recognised that Eddie Fowlkes deserves more credit for his role in the development of techno in Detroit in the 80s and 90s. Now his new releases come with a certain elder-statesman gravitas, but that shouldn’t mask what’s really going on with the music inside. Fowlkes has never really stuck to one style, which might be part of the reason people have struggled to latch onto him like they would, say, Juan Atkins, but a release like this one for Classic reminds us exactly why Fowlkes should have as much legendary status as his peers.
‘AHYEE’ sounds right at home on Classic, a label which has a sizeable legacy of its own as an incubator for freakier strains of house music. The sizzling, bumping beat is tried and true, but the odd harmonics of the bassline are the first clue things are about to get nasty. This alone would be enough to build a track around, but it’s actually the squashed, shaking chords which denote the peak of the track which make it truly sing. Fowlkes’ swagger on the mic only adds to the fun – this is house music magic plain and simple.
True to Fowlkes’ meandering sound, ‘Blow’ comes on hard and crooked with a broken beat flex which could slot in nicely with the West London sound of the early 00s. It’s not trying to be as instantly easy as ‘AHYEE’, but it’s primed to get a crowd going buck wild if they’re ready for some rough brukkage.
On the flip, ‘Talking To Me’ offers something a bit rawer and stripped down – it does a fine job of heating things up with its sample cuts and synth lines, but it doesn’t land with as much presence as its neighbours. ‘Complex’ however redresses the balance with a quintessential exercise in Motor City machine soul, slamming but full of feeling and ready to take a dancefloor skywards. You can hear the legacy of the city pouring out of this one, but there’s a crooked, almost UK funky-styled kink to the percussion which could land the track in some surprising sets, if the right DJs hear it.
OW
Dancefloor Classics – Dancefloor Classics Vol 2 (Rajaton)
The only constant is change, and Sasu Ripatti exercises that notion more consistently than anyone. As his foremost moniker Vladislav Delay continues to traverse increasingly experimental pastures and he turns his hand to surprise collaborations with Sly & Robbie and lots more besides, the Finnish maverick has efficiently rendered any expectations for his releases obsolete. As such, when he names a new project so brazenly as Dancefloor Classics, you approach with an open mind, but even then you’re in for a surprise.
Of course we all know Ripatti has an affinity for pop, as displayed with such finesse on the much-loved early Luomo albums. Opening up Dancefloor Classics, he’s made a draw for a very well-known party banger and given it a fierce footwork-esque treatment – ODB and Kelis’ eternally naughty ‘Got Your Money’. Ripatti has explained, “I like to create music for a dancefloor that exists only in my imagination and doesn’t try to suck up to the standardized reality,” and sure enough this is far from an obvious club-friendly approach. Even in terms of the wild angles and stuttering edits of footwork’s structure, this is a brutally experimental approach to such familiar source material.
Such is the sonic degradation taking place on ‘Didn’t You Know’, it’s not easy to discern the sampling taking place, instead forcing us to consider the end result of the experiment. The jaunty swing of the boxy drum machine is but a bit part pitted against the dishevelled cuts and a lot of electro-acoustic interference, almost baiting the idea of this being something you might actually play to get a crowd moving.
However, this has been cut onto a 10” plate – a format which speaks to soundsystem music as a louder cousin of a 45, and one gets the sense Ripatti is trying to encourage this kind of devilish disruption to take place on a conventional dancefloor. He might be ambitious in his outlook, but that’s precisely why it’s interesting.
OW
Reappropriating a famous Marilyn Monroe quote for your EP title is more than enough to get our attention. Better yet, why not throw in some sick music while you’re at it? Glaswegian artist Helena Celle (real name Kay Logan) has already turned heads in the past few years as something of a musical genius, owing to her semi-generative sound practice and approach to music making using systems and logic.
To give you an idea of Logan’s practice, she’s quoted to have once said: “systems can derive meaning through recursion… the musician is the observer who affects the properties of the system through interaction.” On the off chance this doesn’t dazzle you enough, the music on this latest EP certainly will. Opener ‘I Did It My Way’ says it all. Hauntologic detuned synths and cut-up breaks make up the backbone for a riffing acid line, providing the perfect soundtrack for a life grabbed by the horns.
The mood of the ensuing numbers is playful, danceable and squelchy, revealing the thought process underlying all of this: once you build the system, and get past the hard slog of constructing a reasonable framework, everything else falls into place, and you can play. Just-intoned house sludgers then ensue, and that’s not to mention a cameo appearance by fellow Pict Jennifer Walton. Closer ‘Original Besttrack (Abe’s Oddysee Extended Mix)’ is by far the most out-there, moving through a whopping 20 minutes of lo-fi breakswirl
JIJ
Syz – Headspin (Banoffee Pies)
It’s been a steady rise for Syz, who slipped out a couple of low-key club 12”s before linking up with the similarly breakthrough London-based Control Freak label in 2020. Now he’s aligned with Banoffee Pies to cement his presence on the scene with the kind of crisply functional, bass-toting weapons that could comfortably slip into uptempo sets treading the line between techno, garage and breaks.
Functional might be considered a dirty word by some, but there’s value in the kind of tracks which carry a spark while doing exactly what they should for a DJ. As ‘Spiralizsa’ slides into a techy mid-section peppered with darting chords, it sports enough personality to stand out without resorting to disruption. There’s a laser focus to Syz’s sound which drives it home, but you’ll remember the tracks thanks to the zest in the production and the subtly playful elements which edge the tracks beyond the realm of tracky tools.
The beats are intricately constructed – just listen to the tightly-woven configuration of ‘Ozmogolikan’ with its mixture of pots n’ pans percussion and razor-sharp drum machine propulsion. ‘Earworm’ pushes the minimal techno influence in Syz’s sound to the fore while adjusting the temperature for a broader bass music remit. ‘Burner FM’ gets into deeper head-twisting territory without derailing, and that’s to the credit of the modulation at work throughout.
You’re not likely to reach for these tracks outside of a mix context, but when faced with an abundance of solid dancefloor gear there’s an inventive edge to Syz’s sound which makes his lithe productions jump out of the mix at you.
OW
Pedro Bertho – Le Lien EP (Hell Yeah)
Another month, another spellbinding release from planet Hell Yeah. This time out, the always intriguing Italian label enlist the sonic services of Brazilian-in-France, Pedro Bertho, who delivers a distinctly fusionist EP of dance-ready grooves with the help of a guest appearance from Mariana Gehring alongside a pair of remixes from My Friend Dario and Romain FX. First of all, party promoter and seasoned digger Bertho gets sets off on an especially strong footing with EP opener ‘Tomei’.
Here, Gehring’s delicate vocal glides through undulating pads as throbbing bass, crisp drums and driving percussion power the groove. Hypnotic, mysterious and wildly propulsive, it’s a fine piece of work from the Cracki Records alumnus, and next up, French producer Romain FX steps up with a respectful revision. Making the most of the key instrumentation while feeding the lead vocal through a cosmic blender, he emphasises the bass and subtly guides the track further into club territory.
Next, the tribal rhythms, bubbling acid and off-world synths of ‘Elephants Au 5eme’ power a ragga vocal deep into the tropical heat of an equatorial forest, before label regular My Friend Dario rides in with gently mangled interpretation. Chopping the vocal to pieces and adding all manner of saucer-eyed overdubs, he steers us deep into the mist with a typically deft production flex.
PC
This week’s reviewers: Jude Iago James, Patrizio Cavaliere, Oli Warwick.