South London’s Shame head up our list of irresisitble LPs
Shame – Food For Worms (Dead Oceans)
When South London’s finest released Drunk Tank Pink at the beginning of 2021, the non-starter year of lifting and reinstating restrictions, the brakes would be constantly halted throughout the entire album cycle. Following up their acclaimed debut with a work deeply rooted in anxiety, alienation and lack of purpose, seemed a rather fitting soundtrack to such turbulent times, yet the inability to road test the new material in any full scale capacity would have lingering effects.
Figuring out which angle to best approach their latest endeavour proved trying with the group constantly second guessing themselves and kicking around the notion of the dreaded “writer’s block”. That was until their label, Dead Oceans, stepped in with an ultimatum: The band would return to their old watering hole (The Windmill in Brixton), to unveil newly written material for a select number of attendees…in just two weeks. The experiment proved a resounding success as the increased pressure and deadline forced the members to do away with notions of sonic cohesion, or whether those who praised their previous turn towards the dark would be left underwhelmed. Instead, they found themselves back in the simple mindset of crafting new songs for nothing more than the requirement of having enough to fill a set.
All of these surrounding factors are vital when unpacking the creative stride Shame have hit on LP3. From the ominous opening keys of, ‘Fingers Of Steel’, it becomes quickly evident that the fidgety post-punk of its predecessor has been streamlined into a more restrained dynamic. As the track slowly swells and frontman Charlie Steen introduces the proceedings with the singular self-jab – “You’re complaining a lot about the things that you’ve got”, a more mature headspace comes into view. If Drunk Tank Pink was the exorcism or catharsis that needed to happen, then the ten cuts that make up Food For Worms are the resulting odes to making it out of the fire intact.
Just as a pattern begins to form, the absurd overkill psychedelic riffage of, ‘Six-Pack’, removes any signposts with its Hendrix indebted squall, while Steen’s trademark eccentricities are left utterly untethered. Yes, they may detest the vague post-punk label, or wince at the thought of being stereotypically compared to The Smiths, but it’s almost impossible to ignore the influence that seeps from the jangling menace of ‘Yankees’, with its spoken word poetic verses giving way to an anthemic hook so fuzzy and emotive, even Morrissey might claim it as his own.
‘Alibis’ toes the closest line to the despondent tone of their last record, but with a frenetic dance-punk twist, whereas ‘Aderall’ serves as both the midpoint and standout track; a nineties grunge tinted ballad, complete with lackadaisical gang vocals teeming with brotherly camaraderie, while Steen’s sobering declaration to an absentee friend lost to the throes of addiction – “Your parents really miss you”, is as universally relatable as it is deeply crushing.
Things take a noticeably darker turn in the second leg with, ‘The Fall Of Paul’, and the sardonic, ‘Different Person’, which echoes the lengthy no wave dirges from DTP such as ‘Snow Day’, and ‘Station Wagon’, but with a trade-off of nihilism for more increased cynicism, which sums up the project’s attitude adjustment rather succinctly.
While not a total departure or rebirth, Food For Worms is the sound of a band getting out of their own way, and allowing the material to be the guide. Working with renowned producer, Mark ‘Flood’ Ellis, who helped to execute an entirely live recording process; the resulting cacophony manages to feel joyful, sarcastic, elated, weary and acceptant, packaged within subtle sonic restraint, yet delivered with fluid musicianship. By rediscovering their initial adoration for the joy of craft and performance, while approaching their work with newfound maturity and a seasoned worldview, Luton’s finest finally sound like themselves, and make no apologies for it.
ZB
Gruff Rhys – The Almond And The Seahorse – Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (Rough Trade)
The tug of Super Furry Animals remains strong nearly a decade and a half after the release of ‘Dark Days/Light Years’, their ninth and final studio album. Being in a band like that buys you a lot of goodwill. A lot. Not that the quality of Gruff Rhys’ output as a solo artist requires much goodwill to be taken into account. Since ‘Yr Atal Genhedlaeth’, his 2005 solo debut, he’s proved as much of a treasure as his former band, which is no mean feat.
This isn’t his first swing at a film soundtrack. He scored 2014’s ‘Set Fire To The Stars’ about Dylan Thomas, and ‘American Interior’ in the same year consisted of a film, album, book and, erm, phone app so he has form and it shows.
Starring Rebel Wilson and Charlotte Gainsbourg, ‘The Almond And The Seahorse’ follows the lives of two couples dealing with anterograde amnesia, a traumatic brain injury that inhibits the ability to create new memories. The OST is a whopper, clocking in at 22 tracks across four sides of vinyl where original songs come interspersed with the instrumental score.
The haunting melody of ‘Amen’ was written before Gruff was even engaged on the project. “The yearning and frustration of the song seemed to fit the themes of the film perfectly,” he offers. The track forms a recurring motif throughout the film and reappears in several guises throughout the soundtrack – as a waltz, with strings, staccato, and on ‘Love Love Love’ – with the film being set in Merseyside – a tribute to The Beatles featuring a Mellotron, ‘Strawberry Fields’ style.
‘Layer Upon Layer’, a breezy three-minute power pop blast that plays under the film’s opening sequence, is straight out of the SFA songbook and wouldn’t have be out of place on ‘Radiator’. ‘The Brain And The Body’, which samples Wilson’s dialogue is especially striking as it explains the condition at the heart of the drama. The closing trio of tracks, ‘Ffenestr’, ‘Penbedw’ and ‘Arogldarth’, make up a 20-minute suite of cracking synth-fuelled instrumentals on their own – the eight-minute ebb and flow of the latter is especially good.
As all good soundtracks should be, ‘The Almond And The Seahorse’ feels like a proper journey. And a rewarding listen. But then this is Gruff Rhys, what’s not to like.
NM
No Pressure – No Pressure (Triple B)
Hardcore adjacent pop-punk supergroup, No Pressure, started life as little more than an outlet for guitarist Pat Kennedy (Light Years), and drummer Harry Corrigan (Regulate), to craft material that reminded them of their youth, with bands such as Blink-182, Millencollin and Lifetime serving as vital inspiration.
When time came to search for a vocalist, they found a like-minded ideology in The Story So Far frontman, Parker Cannon, who had become increasingly disillusioned with his own group’s expanded platform and frequenting of bigger venues; pining for the sweaty, cluttered club experience that birthed his original path.
With the agreed attitude of “no pressure” which become the moniker for the project as well as their exceptional self-titled EP, a groundswell of support grew from fans of all members’ surrounding outfits, who clearly yearned for the energetic, sugar coated bombast of classic pop-punk; a scene diluted by its own mass exposure thanks in no small part to bandwagon hoppers such as Machine Gun Kelly.
In the span of less than two years, what started as barely a side-project has ballooned into a constantly touring juggernaut, embraced by the hardcore community for its malleability with regards to how the most aggressive aspects of the genre can be repurposed for the catchiest of means.
Last year’s debut full-length makes good on all of their initial promise with a tight ten track affair, clocking in at just under twenty-three minutes. Crisp and clear whilst evading the dreaded over-produced sheen, the band manage to distil the ferocity of hardcore, the vulnerability of emo and the instantaneous hooks of pop-punk into a potent formula which feels both fresh and nostalgic.
Rapid fire drumming, two-step grooves and twinkling, fuzzed out riffs bounce around Cannon’s deeply personal ruminations on failed relationships, bitterness between old friends, and the passing of his father. From the heartfelt sincerity of, ‘Hand In Hand’, to the sardonic pissed off, ‘Big Man’, all the way to the Blink-182 indebted standout, ‘Both Sides’, (with a bass tone lifted right out of the Enema Of The State playbook), No Pressure prove that they’re far more than the sum of their parts with an expertly crafted, precise, endearing, endlessly playful yet cathartic batch of anthems, destined to become genre classics in the near future.
ZB
Philip Selway – Strange Things (Bella Union)
The third long-form odyssey from Philip Selway packs serious names on the credits. Laura Moody, Hannah Peel, Adrian Utley, Quinta, and Valentina Magaletti have all contributed their talent to Strange Things, a record of undulating beauty and epic scope.
Regardless of what you think that should sound like, though, for the main man behind it this was always going to be an album imagined as Carole King collaborating with BBC Radiophonic Workshop co-founder and UK electronica pioneer Daphne Blake Oram. Selway, apparently, is invited to have a go on the drums.
So far as visions go, that’s pretty specific, and may not be exactly the main thing on your mind here. Instead, from opener ‘Little Things’ through to the tender yet gradually rousing closing number, ‘There’ll Be Better Days’, the first impression is consistently one of incredible lyrical and musical depth. A masterclass not just in songwriting, but arrangement, which, although patient to a T, sits in an end of aural grandeur that’s somehow powerful but soft.
Big and often pretty complex designs somehow presented in stunning tracks small enough to keep in your breast pocket — close to your heart as possible. From subdued twinkling keys gradually bursting into string overture on ‘What Keeps You Awake At Night’, to the garage-pop of ‘Picking Up Pieces’, a track that feels lo-fi and yet is as layered and rich as they come, Selway once again proves himself to be a master at gauging balance, realising incredibly bold ideas in ways that turn relatively leftfield, unconventional tunes into things you could easily imagine hearing on mainstream radio or TV segments. Whether he wants either of those is another question entirely. The point being, Strange Things evokes a sorely missed time, when popular music was as sophisticated as it was daring, complicated, and artistic.
MH
Descendents – Milo Goes To College (New Alliance)
In the late seventies/early eighties, the punk scene was surrounded on all sides by leather jacket sporting mohawks with a predilection towards hard drugs and violence. Deep in Manhattan Beach, California though, was a group of young, nerdy friends who saw through all of the posturing and realised that the punk ethos was for the true outcasts, not the trend-followers who were drawn to the allure of apparent debauchery.
Before drummer Bill Stevenson would embark on his touring tenure with Black Flag, and before frontman Milo Auckerman would depart for college to study biology, Descendents released their iconic debut full-length in 1982, aptly titled, ‘Milo Goes To College’. At twenty-one minutes in length, with fifteen tracks often barely scraping over the two or even one minute mark, many cite the project as the true birth of pop-punk.
Imbuing the frenzied energy and brevity of hardcore with ear worm hooks, and a lyrical stance tackling far more adolescent suburban issues such as clashing with parents, being overworked, and (of course) unrequited love; the album proved that punk didn’t have to be about taking on the world while being off your face and never showering. It could be a means for youthful angst and aggression to be exorcised with positive reinforcement and executed with a nod and a smile.
The utter disdain and wit that seeps through, ‘I’m Not A Loser’, the complete dissection of all that’s wrong with the punk scene on the clustered, ‘Tonyage’, or the carefree humour of, ‘Catalina’, or the questionable, ‘Kabuki Girl’, are offset with moments of earnest, lovelorn, teenage passion on the standout legacy cut, ‘Hope’, or the tragic closer, ‘Jean Is Dead.’
With a bass guitar tone blueprint unaltered more than four decades on, and an attitude bordering on incel, snot-nosed angst with morsels of true enlightenment scattered throughout, 1982 will always be remembered as the year Descendents reared their geeky head and changed the trajectory (or rather charted the course) of pop-punk forever.
ZB
En Attendant Ana – Principia (Trouble In Mind)
Apparently built from confusion and dismay at the world we live in today, Principia effortlessly bucks the trend for outrage at The State of All This Shit by simultaneously calling out some of the biggest social ills of our age — not least the obsession with individualism at any expense, despite nobody actually knowing who they really are, and the isolation and pain this results in — while romancing us with these sexy and sophisticated songs. Quite the achievement when you think about it.
That said, we expected nothing less from En Attendant Ana. The band are from Paris, a place that seems incapable of giving birth to anyone or anything lacking in seduction skills. And when it comes to music, that trait is on another level. Instrumentally, things are wonderfully, captivatingly tight, paying homage to the structures and discipline of classic garage rock with audible touches of golden era roll, and shades of Gallic artistry. All wrapped around the more-than-perfect voice of lead singer and principal songwriter Margaux Bouchaudon — a talent we have surely all dreamed about watching on stage in the one of the French capital’s abundant late night live music dives — it’s familiar stuff, but difficult to find fault.
MH
No Spill Blood – Eye Of Night (Svart)
Irish self-proclaimed “synth-heft” trio, No Spill Blood, have finally made their epic return following a near decade absence since the release of 2015’s hypnotising debut Heavy Electricity.
A supergroup of sorts with their members teeth already firmly chipped and cut in seminal acts such as Elk, Hands Up Who Wants To Die, and The Magic Pockets, the band first rose to prominence with their immense Street Meat EP in 2013, while their place on the ever-expanding roster of Sargent House seemed to dissolve once original drummer, Lar Kaye (Adebisi Shank, All Tvvins) would make his departure.
Finding a new, apt label-home on Svart appears to have been the ideal partnership once delving into the cosmic nightmare that is Eye Of Night. Leaning further into their doom-metal angles than ever before, the neon-strewn hellscapes conjure an atmosphere as bestial and Lovecraftian as they are cavernous.
From the squelching, acidic synths of the cryptic intro track, ‘Cradle Scythe’, it feels abundantly clear that this is the work No Spill Blood have always strived towards. Be it the Cliff Martinez Drive soundtrack on peyote energy of ‘Unguem’, or the Mastodon scoring an 80’s arcade game electro fury of the title-track, the trio’s synth/bass cluster bombs make for a lysergic fusion of visceral rage, hallucinogenic electronics and devastating brutality.
Devoid of any use of guitars, this is arguably the heaviest project of 2023 (easily thus far) to eschew the instrument entirely in search of bombastic heft redefined and reimagined through distorted, fuzzed out bass tones and Tangerine Dream level synth lines. Furious, heavy, and trudging, yet performed with a calculated sense of eccentric, euphoric whimsy; No Spill Blood make their boldest claim yet on this long overdue sophomore effort, elevating and honing everything about the trio’s unique dynamic to an incomparable height of cacophonous bedlam.
ZB
Miss Grit – Follow the Cyborg (Mute)
Margaret Sohn chose the name of their debut full length well. Identity is perhaps more important to this artist than many, or less relevant, it’s hard to tell. Non-binary, and mixed heritage (Korean-American), whether they consider conversations around gender and ethnicity as distractions, or have made purposeful decisions to engage with those discussions, isn’t clear.
Either way, Follow The Cyborg conjures images of characters free from the weight of such human-made constructs, paving a way to a future that may or may not include us. It depends on how quickly we can stop fighting over those constructs and focus on challenges that must be overcome.
In many ways, Miss Grit’s inaugural long player sounds like that. Straddling tones that include garage rock, dark, mutated pop, synth, late-night soft-kissed keys, lo-fi electronica, it’s not that the artist, and record, don’t know what they want to be, but more a bold statement that we can actually be whatever we choose, all at once, now and forever. In this instance, that’s a cyborg — with the songs here attempting to tell the story and convey the experiences of a cybernetic organism — but anyone not reading multiple layers into that probably needs to listen closer.
MH
This week’s reviewers: Zach Buggy, Martin Hewitt, Neil Mason.
The albums that matter from the past seven days
ALBUM OF THE WEEK
Billy Nomates – CACTI (Invada)
Billy Nomates? Guest appearance on Sleaford Mods’ ‘Mork n Mindy’, right? And that’s probably the extent of knowledge the passing observer has about Midlands-raised, Bristol-based Tor Maries. What the more eagle-eyed will have clocked is Geoff Barrow provided some production work on her 2020 self-titled debut album as Billy Nomates and wasted no time signing her to his excellent Invada label.
And if Geoff Barrow’s involved you’d be wise to listen. The rewards for doing just that with ‘CACTI’, the second Billy Nomates album, are great.
There’s a shift here from that self-titled debut – for a start the sound is bigger, fuller, with more of a band feel to proceedings. The press release talks about there being an “economy of sound” that Maries “achieves with her defiantly DIY approach”. While that may have been true for the debut, we’re moving into new territory here.
While ‘CACTI’ was conceived in her kitchen, it was brought to life at Invada Studios where Maries “raided the cupboards”. Imagine what Geoff Barrow has in his cupboards, and well, here it is, ‘CACTI’-shaped. Co-produced with the label’s in-house engineer James Trevascus, DIY this is not.
A track like ‘Blue Bones (Deathwish)’ has Maries coming on like late-period Fleetwood Mac. FLEETWOOD MAC! Think ‘Tango In The Night’, you know, ‘Big Love’, ‘Seven Wonders’, ‘Everywhere’. Maries voice sounds great too – she’s signing rather than the predominant sprechstimme of the debut. There’s a Stevie Nicks-like rasp on a track like ‘Spite’, which shimmers with Top 40 power chords and ripples with a bassline that wouldn’t be far out of place in 1980s Sheffield.
And that’s where ‘CACTI’ scores big. What Maries does, and she does it deliciously well, is mix these 80s AOR pop licks with some filthy synth work and basslines Cabaret Voltaire would’ve been very happy about. So she can get as 80s AOR she likes, but there’s a sensibility here that loiters in the post punk/no wave back streets and nods knowingly in very much the right direction. So a track like ‘Same Gun’ has such a glorious pop hook, but the bass is stripped bare, stalking, almost krauty. It makes me think of Pat Benatar for some reason. I know, I know.
Lyrically, Maries takes a step back from the ballsy front-foot lyrics of the debut album. Here she displays a more heart-on-the-sleeve venerability, prompted by the familiar wobbles cast by the lockdowns, which, looking back now were beyond weird. So into the trauma of the last couple years she wades, confronting uncomfortable truths or as Tor puts it, “70-80 per cent of being bold is about being vulnerable as hell.”
The hypnotic closer, ‘Blackout Signal’ lays out her thoughts on the matter. “I can’t wait for the blackout signal / I dream of shutdowns now”. It’s a cry for the peace and quiet of lockdown, for a return of the hope that when it was all over perhaps the world would change for the better. Fat chance. It’s a track that descends into a dark hole the longer it goes on with Maries howling the chorus into the void towards the end. Brilliant stuff.
There’s not a dud track – or one even approaching average – across the 12 offerings on ‘CACTI’. “There’s too much music in the world already,” believes Maries, “so everything I make has to count.” And count it does. January is always a bit early to be talking albums of the year, but this sets a very high bar that’s for sure.
NM
Eddie Richards – After All Vol 2 (Repeat)
Genre definitions are funny things. Quite apart from the fact that their use has become increasingly perplexing as musical forms evolve, mutate and splinter off into novel territory, these stylistic terms mean different things to different people. Few such definitions in modern dance music appear as fraught with ambiguity, even controversy, as tech-house. To modern audiences, it conjures images of immaculately manicured, sleeve-tattoo-wearing and, most likely, super sexy jocks fist-pumping while Traktor mixes their freshly downloaded top 100 Beatport chart tracks for them. In these instances, the music tends towards the forgettable, an indistinct third cousin twice removed from what the tag once meant. Back in the ‘90s and ‘00s, the hybrid techno house sound championed by DJs and creators for whom techno was a touch too moody, house a little too saccharine, was positioned on the brightly burning vanguard of UK club culture. Propulsive and raw, crowed-enlivening but never cheesy, the sound balanced techno’s abstract abandon with the hooks and funk of house, and the events at which it was played were some of the most vibrant and unabashed of the time.
It’s hard to think of a single artist with whom the origins of ground-level tech house are more closely interwoven than Eddie Richards. Around and actively contributing to the UK’s house movement since its very beginnings, Richards was blazing a trail as far back as the halcyon days of rave in the ‘80s. He rose to greater prominence as one of the core protagonists of the then-burgeoning tech house sound, his Fabric residency the stuff of legends. German label Repeat have done a grand job re-issuing a selection of his finest works over three instalments. ‘After All Vol 2’ contains some of his very best, with each track a seductive banger. Whatever tech house means today, if you want to immerse yourself in or get to know the sound in its purest and most vital form, this is an excellent place to start.
PC
Liela Moss – Internal Working Model (Bella Union)
If you’re going to have special guests, Gary Numan, Jehnny Beth and Dhani Harrison would do it. Welcome to ‘Internal Working Model’, the third solo album from The Duke Spirit’s Liela Moss.
We’re seeing a number of records that deal with the fallout of the last few years. Working with bandmate/real-life partner Toby Butler, Moss vents her “frustration at our disconnected culture”, you know, the way big business puts itself in the way of our basic needs. “There is very little work in the public interest. Self-interest reins supreme, and it’s toxic,” she offers. The antics of someone like Michelle Mone spring to mind, perhaps?
Moss talks about taking an interest in the work of people like Vandana Shiva, Gabor Mate, Bessel Van de Kolk and XR when she began work on the record and, now it’s finished and being released, how little seems to have changed.
The soaring ‘Vanishing Shadow’, where Gary Numan adds moody backing vocals, sets the tone for the record. ‘Ache In The Middle’, a powerful downtempo to-and-fro between Moss and Savages’ Jehnny Beth is perhaps the standout and came, apparently, as a total surprise. Moss had sent the track to Beth’s bandmate/partner Johnny Hostile for some advice. He asked for the lyrics, which struck her as odd, but you know. The track came back with Jehnny Beth all over it.
While ‘Internal Working Model’ shimmers under its dystopian sheen, it isn’t all dark corners. The closer is proper ray of sunshine. With bright modular synths arpegiating all over the place, ‘Love As Hard As You Can’ features Dhani Harrison (his dad was musician, you might have heard of him) is a proper hymn to, well, loving as hard as you can. Wise words in these difficult times.
NM
Strategy – Unexplained Sky Burners (Peak Oil)
Over time Paul ‘Strategy’ Dickow has done enough to keep us guessing with each release. Sometimes we’re treated to aqueous ambience, sometimes looped up disco house with a minimal twist, elsewhere some live band jams with a kosmische bent. In amongst his considerable catalogue, Peak Oil has been an enabler in that regard, carrying a self-titled album way back in 2012 and the Pressure Wassure 12” a couple of years later, and the two records couldn’t be more different. Interestingly, Pressure Wassure carried some meaty garage flex which rears its head again on this first cassette release for Peak Oil – a tidy album of the kind of off beat, heartfelt electronic gear Dickow is loved for by those who know.
‘Frontiera’ is certainly not a conventional garage cut, but it swings on a 2-step beat and there’s some walloping sub bass, even if the synths are a fruitier flavour and everything has a roughshod charm. ‘Unexplained Sky Burners’ leans a little further into 140 dubstep realms and utterly succeeds, even while not sounding like any kind of typical dubstep you might have heard before. It’s the sound of someone who wholly feels and appreciates the music and choose to channel it through their own tool set rather than trying to seek out the ‘official’ sound palette, as it were.
Overall, Unexplained Sky Burners is a release with the spirit of the rave in its bones. The beats are strident and ready to party, the hooks direct and insistent. Dickow’s somewhat indie tendencies keep everything fresh and distinctive, even when samples like ‘that’ Yazoo laugh get dropped into the mix, and it winds up as an album which could very much be at home listened front to back on tape, as much as it could be mined by DJs looking for some non-cookie cutter wares with all the right chops and drops.
OW
James Yorkston, Nina Persson and The Second Hand Orchestra – The Great White Sea Eagle (Domino)
This is one of those albums that just makes everything seem a little bit better. It’s the follow-up to 2021’s ‘The Wide, Wide River’, the first outing from Yorkston and Karl Jonas Winqvist’s Stockholm-based Second Hand Orchestra.
It seems that slowly but surely Yorkston has been adding people to his gang, although it was Winqvist who made the inspired suggestion to add The Cardigans’ Nina Persson.
The record follows the same path as ‘The Wide, Wide River’. None of the orchestra had heard the songs before arriving at the studio. Yorkston would play each song, with the other musicians joining in as and when. After three or four run-throughs they’d press record. “Everything was just happy. I love the wildness in it,” says Yorkston. You can hear it in the recording.
‘The Great White Sea Eagle’ feels mellower than its predecessor, more chilled out somehow. Maybe it’s just more sure of itself. The stall gets set out beautifully on the melodic almost sing-along opener, ‘Sam And Jeanie McGreagor’, where Persson takes the lead. You forget what a good band The Cardigans were. Her voice is terrific.
‘The Heavy Lyric Police’ is fit to burst with the entire orchestra seeming to scrap for space as it reaches its crescendo. It’s followed by ‘A Sweetness In You’, just Yorkson and a warm keyboard. These kinds of to and fro – from chucking everything at a song followed by a track that couldn’t be more minimal makes for a delightful listen.
Yorkson himself hits the nail on the head when he describes ‘The Harmony’, a beautifully intimate duet between him and Persson, as “woozy”. That’s exactly it. The whole thing is off-kilter in the most pleasing way. It’s a truly lovely record.
NM
Wave Temples – Another Night In Peru (Possible Motive)
Operating in the mysterious zone otherwise known as the tape scene and with a catalogue reaching back more than 10 years, Wave Temples feels like an artist one stumbles across thanks to blind luck on some kind of intrepid journey. Of course such imagery is positively encouraged by whoever makes this music, in which exotica and tropical fauna are channeled in subtle rather than crass ways. The emphasis is on creating an eco system in the same mode as artists like Andrew Pekler and Tristan Arp, where the wonderment of the unknown is about fantasy lands rather than problematic cultural colonialism.
Not Not Fun picked recent Wave Temples releases and now another notable link up arrives courtesy of Possible Motive, who also put out the excellent X.Y.R. album Anciente and Ratkiller’s Leather Squeaking Softly. The sound conjured on Another Night In Peru is fascinating, putting field recordings on an equal footing with any melodic or rhythmic elements to create vivid and tangible scenes. There are some beautiful musical passages, but they seem to move in deference to the environment around them, as though emerging from the trees. If you’re a fan of this kind of ecological listening experience, Wave Temples can take you to a very happy place indeed.
OW
This week’ reviewers: Neil Mason, Oli Warwick, Patrizio Cavaliere.
The albums at the top of the pile
Ataxia – Out Of Step (Life & Death)
There are no rules drawn up about what makes a record sound like it’s born out of Detroit culture. Some records have it, and some don’t. You might argue it’s a certain toughness, but it’s not tough in the same way as club music from New York. You might say it’s rooted in the bump – that touch of groove that edges up the funkiness of the track. Perhaps it’s in the soul of the music – the harmonic interplay or the message of the vocals communicating the story of the city. Sometimes there’s a coolness in the delivery which feels intrinsic to the city, not desperate to please or seek approval, just expressing on its own terms. Either way, Ataxia have pulled together enough of these qualities to make an album which absolutely sounds like Detroit.
The duo of Rickers and Ted Krisko have been plugging away in various corners of the tech house scene for some 10 years, moving between European and US labels while notching up some key spots on the likes of Planet E and KMS as well as collaborating with fellow Motor City alumni Norm Talley and getting remixed by Terence Parker for a 2017 acid tweak-out on Nervous Records. They have an established approach of sorts, but after these scattershot singles Out Of Step feels like a more rounded approach to the house and techno album. It’s an album predominantly defined by dancefloor tracks – chunky six-minute workouts for DJs to get busy with – but there is a sense everything was created with the larger whole in mind.
Considering it as a complete listening experience, it harks back to the 90s kind of dance music artist albums, where each track felt distinct from the others. Given the decades of producers rolling out a batch of 10 tracks ploughing the same furrow, it’s satisfying to hear the gears shift from cut to cut as we trip through Out Of Step. It makes for the kind of album where you could grow attached to particular favourites, skipping the CD back and forth to catch your jams. If that sounds a little nostalgic in the era of streaming and playlists, then it reflects the overall vibe of the album, which holds true to certain tenets of Midwestern club music and blasts them with pride.
As such, opening track ‘Detroit Gospel’ makes sense as a pumped-up techno workout with giddy synth lines up top, while ‘Pine Island’ slips into a slower house shuffle with local legend Andres on hand. That’s two tracks in, and already Out Of Step sounds like quintessential 313 gear. ‘Language’ might well be one of the highlights of the album, teasing some ghettotech flexing on the 808 and playing around with some off-key vocal samples, keeping dancers on their toes by dipping into some deliciously disorienting bass drops in the mid-section that might well derail the jit. DJ Minx is also on hand to help Rickers and Krisko work up a sweat at the trackier end of the Detroit house spectrum on ‘Maxia’. As opening salvos go, Ataxia map out a thoroughly convincing direction for their album as a celebration of their hometown’s music culture.
The pressure maintains throughout, dipping into taut electro, piston-pumping machine soul, and even swerving to a little breakbeat play on ‘Feels Like’ with Mister Joshooa. It’s one of the moments on the album that passes by a little less memorably due to its stripped down, rolling nature, but as a building block amongst this gut-busting 12-track compendium, it’s no bad thing to have a little breather from the wilder tracks. In penning their love letter to Detroit, it’s clear Ataxia couldn’t stop the tracks flowing, and Out Of Step feels astoundingly full-bodied top to bottom. It’s not dressed up in any grand schemes – just delivered with a no-nonsense sincerity which chimes perfectly with the fine tradition laid down before them.
OW
Mike Paradinas is never someone you should feel comfortable expecting things from. The Planet Mu boss, better known to most under his production alias, μ-Ziq, has made it his business to confound and avoid anything like conformity throughout a stellar and storied, decade-spanning career, both as the guy who ultimately decides what one of the finest and most refined electronic music labels on the planet puts out, and as a boundary-breaking artist in his own right. The sweetly titled Hello is just the latest case to prove this UK studio-maestro remains consistent in his unpredictable genius.
Having used up all the hyperbole it’s probably worth pointing out that μ-Ziq, and the whole Mu sonic world, are heavily rooted in IDM and the rave culture of thinkers, but such vague and broad descriptions are never going to land any fingers on any real points. Nevertheless, this record is a wonderful example of what we mean. Opening with the piano and halftime drum & bass-led ‘Hello’, this is dance floor business but it has so much in there so far from those norms it has barely even seen them for years.
Elsewhere, ‘Magic Pony Ride, Pt.3’ represents μ-Ziq exploring the cosmos with a staccato, mid-tempo arrangement that marries thinking sounds of space and all that might hide there with complex, snare-capped drum patterns to offer an acid house-inspired 140 dream you don’t want to wake up from. ‘Modulating Angels’ again takes things on a new trip, owing much to the steely chopped and cut percussion of pared-back Squarepusher jungle, doing away with almost everything but the beats and some trickling keys and haunting synth lines, with ‘Iggy’s Song’ also taking a lead from similar sources of inspiration. One hand on the hardcore eight pack, another rooting through sound designs of grand masters.
MH
Nueen – Diagrams Of Thought (Balmat)
Previously spotted floating through the bucolic pastures of Quiet Time and Good Morning, Mallorca-born artist Nueen moves from the cosy climes of cassette labels to an appearance on Balmat. With the previous releases from Luke Sanger, Hoavi and Patricia Wolf, this Spanish label has proven to be an instant must-check for anyone concerned with ear-catching ambient electronics. Rather than hyper-patient drone material, the Balmat focus tends to be on shapely, organic melodic patterns and tender sound design experiments, which is something Nueen instantly adheres to as Diagrams Of Thought eases to life.
There’s no one mode on the record, which makes it more pleasing to listen to as each piece marks out its own space. ‘Lev’ noticeably draws on the kind of Rompler-plucked bass thunk you’d commonly associate with peppy deep house, but it also underpins sparkling FM bell tones and wobbly ghost pads beautifully. When more outwardly ambient moments appear, as on the drifting expanse of ‘Vig Ase’, they sound more memorable in contrast to other paths Nueen chooses to explore. Even these slow drifting pads can be punctuated by an unexpected, isolated bass drop, just to keep things interesting.
‘Veta’ can be considered a slight disruption as its crunchy electro beats and warm, fluid bass cut a path into the middle of the mix, but they don’t sound out of joint with the album’s overall clarity. Nueen sounds free in his exploration of different approaches on Diagrams, which like other Balmat releases comes across as though it was thoughfully compiled from a rich pool of ideas.
OW
Decius – Decius Vol1 (The Leaf Label)
If, as the Manic Street Preachers once proclaimed, “All rock ‘n’ roll is homosexual”, then it can only be even more true of house music. Its roots in the gay nightlife of Chicago, its influence from the mid-80s hi-NRG productions of Bobby Orlando and Man Parrish, its all-welcoming ethos, they have all remained a central part of the music’s DNA. These days, of course, that influence is usually implicit – if you know, you know, if you don’t then it doesn’t matter too much. Which makes the arrival of Decius Vol1, which wears its LGBT+ credentials very much on its sleeve, all the more welcome and refreshing.
Decius compromises of brothers and Trashmouth Records founders Liam and Luke May, Quinn Whalley (Paranoid London/Warmduscher) and Fat White Family frontman Lias Saoudi, and those already smitten by the Paranoid London acid house bug will be delighted by the likes of ‘U Instead Of Thought’ with its classic Chicago drum machine rolls, the frisky disco bassline to ‘I Get OV’ or ‘Look Like A Man’s vocal hysteria and throbbing sequencers. It’s this combination of very current dancefloor firepower and spectacular vocals which hark back to an era of abandon that devotees of Sylvester and Patrick Cowley will recognise immediately. A heady mix indeed, which is just how this lot like it.
BW
The idea of Plaid’s 11th album – released un-coincidentally on 11/11/22 – being a recreation of a gig booking played in outer space raises two questions in this rather cynical journalist’s mind. Firstly, what are they smoking? And secondly, where can we get hold of some?
It might be more believable to assume that all of the Plaid (and Ed Handley and Andy Turner’s stint with The Black Dog) output had been recorded in such a way – it’s all very much out of this world and always has been. But their style has shifted slowly over the years, away from the early beat juggling of ‘Angry Dolphin’ to an altogether more home listening proposition. What Feorm Falorx indicates, however, is that with that shift they’ve not only managed to maintain their distinctive trademark sound but also become more communicative and direct.
‘Cwtchr’, for example, boasts a tumbling, off kilter beat but it never throws the listener off the scent, while ‘Return to Return’ dallies with the hitherto unexplored areas of high frequency with what sound like plucked violin arpeggios, underpinning them with hip-hop beats and gloopy bass. ‘Modenet’ is even more approachable, with a touch of Mike Paradinas-style melancholy about it, and the ‘Wondergan’ is a joyous steel pan workout that’s way more fun than so-called ‘intelligent techno’ was supposed to be.
The concept of becoming more accessible, especially with age, is something usually associated with watering down or reduction of some sort. Plaid seem to have been able to achieve it here without diluting their legacy in the slightest, if anything making it stronger. Good on them. We only wish we could have made the original gig.
BW
When dealing with artists like Tom Halstead and Joe Andrews it’s difficult to focus on criticism and not descend into potted histories. Having spent years blurring lines between all manner of genres that just about fit in dark rooms late at night as Raime, a project that splices drum & bass with cinematic scores, adds punk and shoves the lot under blue-lit hues of jazz-grime, you can’t help but feel that harping on about that glory while discussing their latest project (of sorts) does the latter disservice. But then it feels rude not to clarify the pedigree we’re dealing with here.
Chin-stroking disciples will by now have left the room in disgust at the suggestion Moin is a new era. Paste is the second contiguous album under the name, but the duo were actually working with this moniker before Raime was a thing. Credibility hopefully retained, to some extent, this latest effort is perhaps the finest thing the two heads — and new compatriot Valentina Magaletti — have ever done. Elements of hip hop and experimental downbeat lift the garage rock foundations to unfathomable heights of samples, loops, words, plucks, melodies, darkness, light, subtle euphoria, and humour. Post-genre for those bored of post-genre.
MH
Andy Ash – All The Colours (Quintessentials)
Liverpool-based artist Andy Ash returns to Quintessentials with some of his most accomplished material to date, serving up varying shades of deep house wonderment on the ‘All The Colours’ LP. The DJ, producer and visual artist has kept up a prolific work rate of late, with his production prowess edging ever forward with each carefully crafted release. The new album was tantalisingly teased last month thanks to a splendid remix EP, and, sure enough, the finished article proves to be inspired throughout. The collection sees Andy collaborate with a selection of talented vocal artists, adding an extra dimension to his propulsive four/four soundscapes.
The LP launches with the rugged dancefloor drive of ‘The Sound’, where Eric Rico’s soul-drenched vocal simmers over deviant synths and fizzing drums. Next, the growling acid and Fingers-esque bass of ‘Life’ is a fist-pumping main room guarantee, while the deep house shuffle and Peach Boys-inspired top-line of ‘I’m Here’ provides one of many magnetic, heads-down moods. Rousing slap bass and cheerful crowd samples enliven the impossibly propulsive disco flex of ‘The Village’, before the bump resumes via the solid drums and undulating synth motifs of ‘Os Talking’.
The swung groove and dreamy keys of ‘Mad Affection’ make way for the introspective profundity of ‘Another’, before closing track ‘Letting Go’ blends dusty rhythms with melancholy chords for a poignant endpoint. Andy Ash proves himself among the very best of the UK’s house protagonists here, and, if it’s ho-ho is your game, ‘All The Colours’ is nothing short of a must-have album.
PC
Christina Vantzou – No 5 (Kranky)
As you might well surmise from the title, Christina Vantzou is returning to Kranky for her fifth solo album, although the US experimental artist has a much busier discography of works covering more than 10 years since she first emerged. In the past few years she’s been working regularly with John Also Bennett on the CV & JAB albums amongst many other ventures, but here she returns to her methods as a mighty re-arranger, pooling session recordings from a plethora of musicians and feeding them into her unique tapestries.
There’s a sense of closeness orbiting the music, whether through the synth passages of ‘Reclining Figures’ encircling your ears, or via the ASMR tickle of footsteps on foliage leading us into the fragmented swoon of ‘Red Eel Dream’. The shards of instrumentation and performance are cast asunder and yet they spring back to Vantzou’s lantern like dutiful moths as she navigates us through strange archipelagos of atmospheric sound. Despite the sense of space and travel, at all times every sonic incident feels within reach – intentional and graspable.
Sometimes the composition comes through more lucidly, as on ‘Kimona I’, and elsewhere the direction feels tangential. ‘Tongue Shaped Rock’ lilts and meanders. With each new turn throughout No 5, the intrigue deepens.
OW
Rachika Nayar – Heaven Comes Crashing (NNA Tapes)
To say Rachika Nayar’s music feels romantic wouldn’t quite be right. In so many ways, Rachika Nayar’s music is romance. A love affair for an age in which the organic and synthesised are rapidly becoming one, when we have long-since understood it’s possible to see something of ourselves, and each other, in the mechanical and algorithmic results of our own machinations. Warm humanity in a world where it’s easy to overlook the importance of actual living things.
Quite the attempt at poetic justice, really the record is best described as “beautiful”. Nayer’s previous efforts made it pretty clear her backstop is the guitar, but here that instrument appears almost unrecognisable. These mini-epics of synth, sounds that feel born under the yellow glows of street lights on winter walks home from clubs, times when we have opportunity to take everything in through wide-eyed observations impossible amid the frantic mayhem of days driven by the apparatus putting us at risk of forgetting ourselves. Climaxing with a title track that sends breaks crashing around your ears and finally unleashes guitars in an orgy of drum, drone, and riff, before tucking us up in the cosiness of gentile refrains. Truly something to hold close.
MH
When Soundway Records set about shedding light on the various hidden corners of the musical universe, they do it proper. The latest niche on the receiving end of Soundway loving is ‘80s Argentina’s electronic avant-garde, with all-manner of idiosyncratic curios carefully curated by Ric Piccolo and Ariel Harari. Italo disco, electro-funk, post-punk, tango, ambience, jazz-fusion, Afro-folk and techno-pop are all represented here, via a most generous 19 tracks split across three slabs of wax.
The compilation starts strongly thanks to the moody electronics of Carlos Cutaia’s ‘Operativo’ before gliding up and down the gears across a routinely enjoyable set. Ric Piccolo’s edit of ‘Dimensiones Ocultus’ from El Signo provides bags of electro-boogie enthusiasm, as does the Harari edit of Toby’s ‘Ain’t That Better’. The rising melodies and optimistic sensations of Mike Ribas’ ‘Secuencia Sin Consecuencias200’ do a fine job lifting the mood, while the blissed-out Balearica of ‘Reencuentros N° 2’ from Adalberto Cevasco proves a sumptuous sundown highlight.
Elsewhere, the upbeat groove and hyperactive vocals of Divina Gloria’s ‘Mediterranée Club’ is sure to get bodies moving, and the soul-flecked funk of ‘I Wanna Make You Mine’ from Delight is one of the many feel-good jams that permeate this wildly imaginative collection. There’s scarcely a dull moment throughout, and owning this album is sure to add much to even the most well-rounded of music collections.
PC
Loraine James – Building Something Beautiful For Me (Phantom Limb)
As the world continues to play catch up with the genius of Julius Eastman, projects such as this one will do wonders to help enshrine the late American composer’s name beyond the realms of classical music. Through a connection with Eastman’s brother Gerry, Phantom Limb have been able to commission Loraine James to create a bold yet sensitive response to Eastman’s work.
Building Something Beautiful For Me feels intimate beyond James’ prior albums for Hyperdub. While her beat-oriented work still operates with a certain internal logic that keeps it independent from broader stylistic trends, her ability to seemingly transcode her personality into her music comes through stronger in these more delicate pieces. It’s aligned more naturally then with the Whatever The Weather project which appeared on Ghostly earlier this year, but of course there’s a strong variable here in the form of Eastman’s compositions, sample source material and overall imposing presence.
From one gay Black artist to another across a generational and geographical divide, the resonance remains deep, but equally James doesn’t sound phased by the project and instead projects herself through it with grace. Eastman is unquestionably there in this work, but ultimately, it’s another development for Loraine James, one of the strongest voices in contemporary electronic music.
OW
This week’s reviewers: Ben Willmott, Jude Iago James, Martin Hewitt, Oliver Warwick, Patrizio Cavaliere.
