Maybe it’s been a foolish endeavor, and maybe I’m the only one who misses the blog ol’ days, but I’ve been giving it a shot. I’ve been working on restoring some of the old content, though much of it was lost. I’ve slowly been rebuilding the old remix sunday archives, and even posting the occasional new edition. And I’ve been writing again.
You can find all the label’s releases here, on bandcamp, or most anywhere you listen to music these days. I’ve still got copies of some of the old vinyl releases, and I recently released the first in a set of charitable cassette compilations to raise awareness about the continued [mis]use of broken windows policing methods.
Plus, I put together a playlists section with a handful of spotify lists that hopefully start to capture a [slightly] updated version of the moods we used to peddle. Give those a listen and a ❤ if you would be so kind. If you want to get in touch, just give me a holler.
One of the first posts I wrote after returning to this site post-decade-long-hiatus was about how nice it can be to encounter artists who long to hear more of one of their hero’s signature style so much they are willing to fully embrace reviving that style themselves. These artists are practicing a form of nostalgic manifestation that I can’t help but respect. It’s especially not fair to deride them as copycats if the artist’s style in question has been abandoned. They miss hearing new work by artists who are no longer productive (or exist in a new form altogether), so they put in the work necessary to manifest those unwritten songs’ existence. I know it might sound silly, but I think these dedicated emulators are doing the rest of us fans a true service.
Last time, I wrote about the Boards of Canada tribute album by members of the Kahvi Collective. There, it was a bunch of artists doing their best to summon the spirit of BoC. In this case, it’s one artist essentially imagining a sequel track to Aphex Twin’s breakthrough song, “On”. I hope Ear Mind Eye, an artist from Canberra, Australia, doesn’t mind me framing it this way, but I don’t say any of this as a slight. Richard D James’s style in the early 90s was deceptively simple. It’s easy enough to put all of the elements he was working with together in a pot, but it’s another thing altogether to bottle even a fraction of the lightning James did around that time. He isn’t going to return to making music in the style he was pursuing back then–despite his generosity in giving us so much new work after so long–so we should be thankful to the devotees who are willing to try. In this case Ear Mind Eye makes a noble attempt.
Grab the track on bandcamp, as part of the Instant Slack EP. Or find it on your local streaming service.
I’ll be honest, I’m usually really turned off when I see an all-caps artist name with a V used in place of a U (or similar conventions like skipping all the vowels or whatever), but it just so happens that my father was in Bratislava for the last couple of weeks teaching a course at the Uni there, so I overcame my bias and checked the submission when I saw the Slovakian connection. I’m really glad I did. Bratislava-based FVLCRVM is the kind of artist who–at least from the outside looking in–seems like he’s drawing from a really deep well of natural talent and innate energy. As I mentioned the other day, I’m also a little dubious about stuff people label as hyperpop (to his credit I haven’t seen FVLCRVM himself use that term, but I’ve seen others do it). In this case, that label is really reductive. For one thing, a browse through FVLCRVM’s back catalog reveals a pretty broad stylistic approach, but also what makes these songs good is really the songwriting, not the packaging. This is just solid pop music, as far as I’m concerned, so it’s no real wonder that his work remains good across his genre shifts over time.
I’ve selected two tracks for you, but I recommend checking all his previous work too. And if you couldn’t tell how much I like the first song, I’m posting it despite the fact the only public embeddable version is a youtube stream. It takes a lot for me to get over my fastidiousness when writing here, but “Till”–released a few weeks ago on a major label (that’s why there’s no proper public stream available)–is truly jubilant 90s breakbeat revival pop. It’s simply sparkly enough for me to just get over myself and post it anyway. Definitely do yourself a favor and listen through until that key shift around 2:30. The second one, “Wildfire”, is about a year old, and as good as the first, but is also a good example of FVLCRVM’s genre-chameleon quality. It’s hazier and warmer–almost grunge music at times–but it’s no less of an earworm, and still somehow open and energetic despite all of its warble.
I suspect it’s only a matter of time before we see a top40 hit stateside written by this guy (if we haven’t already…?).
Those early scans can be a terrifying time, you are a bundle of nerves and heading into this great big unknown, and there is something so visceral about hearing that living heartbeat the first time. It’s one of those life moments where you are overwhelmed by emotions that you don’t quite understand, and yet you are also scared to let yourself feel them in case something goes wrong.
That nice sweet sort of sentimentality on this track from North London’s Sound of Fractures, real name Jamie Reddington. This song was built around a recording Reddington made of his daughter’s heartbeat in utero. Hearing my daughter’s heartbeat gave me the same kind of combination of feelings. Wild excitement and anticipation, coupled with an instinct to hold it all in as much as possible. Both out of fear of the worst, but also a sort of self-doubt–because you no have real idea what you’re about to experience or whether you’ll be able to handle it when it happens. But it turned out that I was. If you’re in that spot, the mere fact you’re wondering those things about yourself and your baby means you probably will be too.
The track is out now on bandcamp and streaming. Also check another nice one from Sound of Fractures released early this year.
darkDARK is Genevieve Vincent and Chris James, the former based in LA, the latter in Austin.
Ghost Complex is their latest album, a sci-fi concept record about a pair of AI living in a post-human world, grappling with the choice between creation and replication, forced to confront the ambiguity of sentience. Humans left them a set of songs, designed as fables, so that the pair might recreate civilization in humanity’s image. The central question is whether will they accept their role as custodians of the past or choose to become architects of their own future?
Societal AI OD aside, this is a resonant question for us humans too. Do we use our energy to focus on doing something truly original, or do we accept we are products of our influences and make the most of that? I live primarily in the second camp. I expect Vincent and James do too. The album is delicate and beautiful, but also doesn’t seem to shy away from honoring its stylistic inspiration. Getting too specific with genre or reference points–when we’re ultimately dealing with pop music–is maybe a touch superfluous, but for me, Ghost Complex sits somewhere between the gauzy UK and Scandinavian trip-pop of the late 90s and early aughts, and a minimalist strain of blade runner revivalism; plus probably also with a dose of the graceful quality of a record like Chairlift’s Moth.
Notwithstanding the satisfying chunk of the bass on songs like “Cult” and “Petals”, darkDARK are best at their most gossamer. Album opener “Face With No Name” is the one that gets me the best. Vincent’s vocal delivery skips over the air, playing carefully with the bed of Rhodes beneath it. The shared fx on both elements automates exquisitely until you’re not quite sure what’s what. It’s all nicely suggestive of the album’s concept of a pair of machines wondering whether to emulate or separate from humans.
This is high-concept stuff, sure, but far more importantly, the album is really easy on the ears. No bandcamp for this, unfortunately, so go find it on streaming services.
darkDARK – “Face With No Name” (sc)
darkDARK – “Cult” (sc)
darkDARK – “We Had Everything” (sc)
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This review was written in support of the artist’s promotional campaign.
Graffick (real name Blaine Counter) is a San Diego-based producer who sent me this lovely tune last week. According to Counter, the Graffick project was born in the wake of a near-fatal semi truck accident that left him unable to walk for months. Yeesh, respect to him for doing anything after that kind of trauma. As far as I can tell, most of the Graffick back catalog sits at lower tempos than the instant track, which is a nice slice of bell-driven, live-drum-kit organic house. Really well put together stuff here.
No bandcamp here, so find the track on streaming services instead.
A handful of glimmering submissions from Chicago-based Shidi Midi.
I’ll readily admit that when hyperpop became ubiquitous in the mid-2010s, I was never quite able to fully grasp its appeal. Not that I couldn’t appreciate the intensity of its production, or even its plastic-obsessed aesthetic–but I think coming from a time and place where gabber kicks were the antithesis of cool, I just couldn’t quite stomach all of it as well as some of my friends. But I like where it’s gone, or at least what it left in its wake. I appreciate the ease with which the stylistic merging of dance music and video-game retrophilia has become commonplace; and I really like how many artists that might have been termed hyperpop five or ten years ago, are now just as easily embracing jungle and breakcore references over 150bpm+ gabber 4×4. It’s become embodying of exactly the kind of musical free-for-all that I’ve always sternly believed breeds real creativity.
Shidi Midi is one shining example of the class of artists working in that space. Their work seems as unencumbered by genre as it is proudly technicolor. I’ve selected a few good ones here — the first is the opener of their newest EP a-coo-stics; the second the closer of their album Birdhouse, released earlier this year; the last, an hilarious choice cut I discovered on their soundcloud that was an immediate winner in my book.
Sometime about 20,000 years ago, a wiry-haired and very hungry pack of descendants of the Miacis decided collectively that they should brave a plea for help from those strange smooth creatures with the strong rumps and weak shoulders. They’d been following these hairless beasts for some time, subsisting on what was left behind in or near piles of burning embers. But with an unexpected glut of healthy members having arrived in the spring, the pack needed more. The alphas of this particular pack were unique in that they were somehow capable of more than brute force; they knew how to demonstrate leadership of a more nuanced sort, the kind that centers strength derived from affection and protection, not only violence.
These canids were the first to tie themselves to the fate of humans. A few thousand years later, when men and women had stopped moving constantly, and built cities perfect for the proliferation of pest, small wildcats took the cue, and decided to set up shop too. Now we love these animals as family, and they love us.
Necessity and opportunity can breed sincere connection. It’s not always so different when two people find each other.
Hot Spoon, Cold Mango is a project from dutch-born artist Stephen Meeker, pursuing a genre he calls Motion Vision — a collage of modern classical, ambient, and post-rock. The project was born of the love between Meeker and his partner while indulging in Mango sorbet together using a spoon fresh out of the dishwasher. Despite these intimate beginnings, his latest album, Paws on Ears is lofty and conceptual; what Meeker terms as “easy listening for weary space travelers”.
The eighteen pieces on the record aren’t characterized by any single sound or effect. From the plasticine and putty-like woodwinds of “First Dance of Eight Paws”, to the amber-from-sap pianos of “Amongst the Roots of Trees”, to the fairy-buzz chimes of “Walk to Find Trees”. A disparate collection tied together by something ephemeral, but somehow also familiar.
Meeker describes his inspiration as rooted in his sense of his own existence. He explains that his music is an expression of his “profound lack of understanding of the world that surrounds [him]” and his desire to decipher our collective experience into something narrative. Paws on Ears does indeed strike a narrative chord, albeit an abstract one — not one that’s easily categorized. Maybe it’s that willingness to accept what he doesn’t know that gives the music its nearly-naive-but-surprisingly-complex quality. In any case, the feeling that resonates with me after a handful of listens through is simple the unconditionality of love possible between friends who need each other deeply. Symbiosis as devotion. Take that for what you will; I suspect Meeker wants the meaning to lie with the listener. Paws on Ears is out now for streaming universe-wide.
Hot Spoon, Cold Mango – “A Beckoning Plea of a Call For Bears” (sc)
Hot Spoon, Cold Mango – “A Cow Stands Guard Protecting Their Llamas” (sc)
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This review was written in support of the artist’s promotional campaign.
As she stares into her laces, a bee buzzes and hums in her ear is that a tune she remembers? or is it one she should? Grampa used to ask her what she expected from music
whether she thought it would fulfill her now as she waits for her ride, she wonders if the color is enough to keep her going whether things will change for the better or
if the volume will continue to dim.
Graffiti Warfare is the nom de guerre of Denver’s George Lattimore. Revolving Shores is his second album under that name. It’s an outright embrace of nostalgia, but broader in emotional scope than the work of some of his contemporaries. Nostalgia indeed, but not just for stoned teenage angst and romance, also for sharp-eyed grandparents, kite flying, and plastic cutlery.
From the opening song, “To Be It,” which features spoken word recordings by mid-twentieth century perennialist, Alan Watts, the album feels like it must have been a really personal process for Lattimore. I was quick to want to characterize the record as intimate and wooly, and at many moments, it is that. It’s certainly interpretive; some of its references feel like they must be Lattimore’s alone, or akin to the kinds of inside jokes siblings keep–almost indecipherable, but nonetheless totally charming to outsiders. It’s a largely instrumental album, only making sparse use of vocals on most songs, with greater focus on synthesis, pillowy drums, and pedal work. But where some of Lattimore’s nostalgia-seeking colleagues may opt to dive headfirst into fuzz, tape warble, and binaural synth washes, most of Revolving Shores maintains a sense of earnest clearheadedness, at times even bordering on the piercing.
What might seem at first like a weedy and cozy lay in grass (see early standouts like “Just Follow” or “DejaBlue“) pretty quickly turns into more of a healthy not-quite-micro-dose on a brisk autumn beach. There’s plenty of flirting with melancholia, but also an apparent attempt to tackle concrete family anxieties, grief, and insomnia. I’ll admit I’m usually more of a weedy lay in the grass type, but the album is probably strongest when it embraces the colder and more frenetic — the collage slap bass of “Volume” or the stop/start-synthesized-shrill meets soft underbelly of the album’s closers “Missing the War” and “Seashell.”
Revolving Shores is Lattimore’s own personal moment on a cold bright day in wet sand, but most listeners will find themselves feeling welcome to join him.
The album is out now for streaming on all major outlets.
Graffiti Warfare – “Just Follow” (sc)
Graffiti Warfare – “Volume” (sc)
Graffiti Warfare – “Seashell” (sc)
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This review was written in support of the artist’s promotional campaign.
Bombastic steppy heavy bass from Tokyo’s RIII (those are three i’s). “Kick” is the B2 off of RIII’s newest Vibesy EP, out now on Aranck Collective. The other track I’m including here is from Aranck Collective’s 2.0 compilation that was released this past June; “Howl” is dubbier, and reminds me of the kind of quasi-DMZ we used to push hard on Palms Out. Those were the days. Glad to know people are still pursuing this sound, and doing it well.
JASCE (pronounced like the first syllable in the name Jason) is a producer, vocalist, and violinist based in Philly. She sent me the attached eerie number, and I’m into it. Sort of a little like if Tori Amos on one of her breathier days went to a rave full of goths and dnb kids. Maybe that’s a little reductive. Based on a quick scan through her catalog, JASCE is a really talented producer, and clearly her background as an instrumentalist brings the sort of musicality that’s not infrequently lacking in bass music. I respect her commitment to merging proper singer-songwriter stuff with monstrous bass. Some of her songs go a little too far into mainline dnb territory for my tastes, but on this one, the percussion is super sharp, and that bassline is just really well contained and tense.
Stream this at any of the usual places, or grab it on bandcamp.
I’m such a sucker for a good Burial homage. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, the dude developed a genre and no one who works in the space can avoid the reference. But I say just own it.
Leeds-based music educator Andrew Potterton does that. He seems like the type of artist who just loves figuring out a genre. A quick scan through his soundcloud reveals a new genre almost every tune. It ranges from dusty house to mainline dnb to pure ambient synthscapes to rave to trap to phonk to lofi beats to study to–to just about everything else. Some might say that indicates a lack of focus, but from a pure skill standpoint, I find the versatility impressive, especially because it’s all pretty well executed. And I think putting it out under your government name indicates a real lack of pretension, which I totally respect. It makes sense coming from a music teacher. You’ve got to be able to approach lots of genres to effectively teach electronic music composition to students with wildly varied tastes. Plus, kids are brutal, so being pretentious isn’t going to get you far.
No bandcamp for Andrew, unfortunately, but check his soundcloud and spotify profiles.
Subfiction is one of those artists who wears a mask. A lot of the time, this makes me skeptical. But who knows, maybe the guy behind the mask has a job they need to protect, or maybe they’re the son of a couple of mysterious masked super villains, and they’re just keeping the family tradition alive. All credit due, the mask in question is kinda cool; it’s less of a mask, really, and more of a collection of lacey scarves, sometimes worn in conjunction with LEDs. In the case of the cover art above, I’d say the rest of the fit lends itself to my super villain theory.
In any case, the only other thing I know about the artist is that they’re operating out of the Netherlands (ideally in a secret mountain lair, but Holland doesn’t have any mountains). The music wears its influence on its [robot villain] sleeve, and track titles like “twerkin’ aphex” hammer the point home. But is that a bad thing? I don’t really think so. The aforementioned song is frenetic and NRG-etic and delivers on its title. The other featured track is no less ambitiously titled “killa4dafloor” — manifest what you want out of a track, I suppose! It’s a nice and simple breakbeat track with acidic 303s and ravey sampled vox. Not exactly groundbreaking, but still a solid shot at its stated purpose. Floors often thrive with familiar references as much or more than they do with newly broken ground.
Check the EP on bandcamp, or stream it wherever you listen these days.
LDN Monos, real name Curtis Neil, is a producer from London who’s recently released his debut long player, August in Winter. It’s a nice amalgam of styles — not stuck in any particular genre, but still totally accessible and friendly on the ears. Mostly mild and easy to digest, but still evocative, and wholly unpretentious. I posted the video for the excellent first single from the album earlier this year. In general, the video treatments for the single have all been outstanding.
No bandcamp for this unfortunately, but stream the album on spotify or wherever, or if you don’t have that kind of thing, it’s also available for free streaming on soundcloud.
Lightfooted cut of midtempo electronica from Birmingham-born, London-based Mattr, real name Matthew Clugston. The track he sent over, “Lex”, is a really lovely song, but perhaps most striking is what consistent and plentiful output Clugston has had over the past couple of years. This may be projecting, but he seems to be one of those producers who really took advantage of the 2 years indoors and decided to finish a few dozen of the tracks he had sitting in his draft folders. (And look, as a producer who didn’t do that, to each their own, pandemic was/is pandemic. But power to those who made the most of it creatively.)
In addition to the new one he sent over, I’ve picked out a couple of others from various releases he had this year. Grab them all on his bandcamp, or stream your dreams away.
Growing up is scary. When you’re a kid, you probably have one of two generally misguided perspectives on getting older. (a) It’ll get easier to just be alive, and I’ll finally be self-determined, so I’ll be more able to do what I want. (b) I’ll be bored, and boring, stuck in a normie life forever, so I better let my light burn bright (or out) while I have the chance.
Neither is particularly accurate. For most, the just being alive part does get a little easier, but self-determination doesn’t usually truly mean the time or power to do what one wants, especially when time speeds up on an exponent. If you have a family, you probably won’t often be bored — though sadly you might seem boring — but at least for many, you’ll fucking treasure the moments when you get the chance to have a few normal boring hours. And sure, go ahead and let your light shine bright as a kid — I’m glad I did — but also leave yourself a little fuel for middle adulthood, because it can be legitimately exhausting to have babies and jobs and purpose, even as thrilling as all that can be.
London-via-Leeds hailing Wittyboy burned bright early — do you remember those niche/bassline Craig David remixes he did back in 2007ish? I think he’s still doing that banger sound for the most part — and power to him for it — but like many of our age group (he’s about a year younger than me, according to wikipedia), he’s at the least supplementing his speed wubs with some more “grownup” (or maybe just mild) sounds, and offering listeners a touch of introspection. “My Fear” is a sweet and simple song that exists in a space somewhere between that post-garage sound that I hate describing but like listening to, and something a bit more akin to straightforward dancefloor pop. It’s really listenable stuff, and hats off to a wubgawd for showing his softer side. We all gotta take a breather sometimes as we approach our 40s.
Hard-as-nails electro meets g-tech from Osutin, real name Austin Crumpley. Osutin may hail from Phoenix, but this is the stuff that would make nearly any Michigander grimace and start moving their butt.
Osutin’s Bass Go EP is out now on LA label, Teethy. Grab it on bandcamp, or stream it all over.
Sharp, clenched, grand electronica from LA-based Tommy Simpson, aka Macro/micro. Simpson recently stopped work as an engineer for Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, where he assisted on the last two NIN albums and their recent film work, including that excellent score for Watchmen.
Simpson’s own work as Macro/micro definitely exists in a similar space as does that of Reznor and Ross, particularly in his use of tightly controlled distortion (see e.g., “Awe” and “He’ll Be With You Shortly”). But there’s also an evident generational divide. Despite its general darkness, this is not dour music, there’s plenty of optimism to be found here too (see e.g., the closer, “Gratitude” which is probably my choice from the record). As a much younger artist, Simpson seems more willing to open the blinds more often and let in some light.
Check out the whole album, released this past July. It’s out now on bandcamp, and streaming everywhere else.
Macro/micro – Things Will Never Be The Same Again (bc)
I’m slowly returning from paternity leave, and this kind of ditty from LA-based apob speaks well to my current mood. Having a little baby who smiles constantly and squeals in delight 100x/day makes it hard to have anything but fun, even though my wife and I are both wildly exhausted.
The sound of “having more fun v1” is true to its name, for sure, but it’s still got an artery of subtle seriousness running through it — maybe it’s that Twin Peaks-y secondary bass line. This song is the first solo release from apob, real name Aaron O’Brien, but he’s produced and written for some interesting names these past couple of years, including Dora Jar, Aiden Bissett, and JELEEL!. One to watch, this one.
Not on bandcamp, but streaming all over, including on spotify.
Cando is a Bristol-based production duo composed of Chad Leotaud and Owen Roberts. Roberts comes from the world of commercial pop and dance, working as a songwriter for the likes of BTS; Leotaud was raised in part in Trinidad, with a background in dancehall and early 2000s DMZ-era dubstep. The track these two sent over recently, “Sting in the Tail”, is the b-side from their most recent two-tracker, and crosses percussive dancehall stylings with touches of both that first-wave dubstep sound and some mainstream sheen. I’ve also included an older track, “Bleak Dub”, from 2019, which sits more firmly in Deep Medi territory, and burns nice and slow. Ones to watch.
Both tracks are available for streaming, or on the duo’s bandcamp.
in response to the healthcare system feeling so criminal, my mom joked that we should just start stealing things. we went to cvs later that day, and I may or may not have stolen a pack of peanut m&ms for her.
“Sorry CVS” was written by Lyrah and her brother, shortly after his diagnosis with stage 4 cancer. It’s a song about a criminal and unjust healthcare system devoid of humanity, replaced instead with insensate cynicism. If a system like this bills itself as compassionate, but happily denies care to those unable to pay, what form of twisted ethics should ever protect that system from theft? Besides, CVS is the kind of place that’s just begging to be stolen from. Sending love to everyone out there unable to get adequate or appropriate care, and all of those forced to navigate a labyrinthine Medicaid system.
I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about the divisions of the autonomic nervous system, particularly the parasympathetic and enteric, and the ways in which the branches of the trigeminal nerve may be affected by changes in the rate and consistency of peristalsis. Could it be that the chronic migraines I’ve experienced since I was a teenager might be affected by finding a way to change the pace of peristalsis and/or attaining better conscious control over general parasympathetic function? No easy answers to questions like these.
Digital Artifact is an artist who clearly spends time trying to feel out the answers to difficult questions. Not only because he’s a computer engineering student, an experience which I can only imagine bears with it a fair share of challenges, but also through his music, which is distinctly explorative. Most of his music is iterative–as in, it’s made by applying the same set of rules a number of different times, and recording the outcome. That’s a heady endeavor, no doubt, but all of it manages to maintain touch with an emotional nerve. These are explorations worth following along with.
I’ve selected a couple of songs for you here, but he’s got a wealth of material available to stream on his soundcloud and spotify profiles, so I really recommend going there, hitting shuffle, and letting the material take you where it may.
Digital Artifact – “A Quantum Entanglement of the Mind” (Iteration One)
Digital Artifact – “A Hollow Blue Cube In The Sand” (Iteration Two)
Digital Artifact – “An Involuntary Hallucination” (Iteration One)
Concrete and plasticine murmuring post-dubstep sounds from Mexico’s AAOM, real name Alfonso Otero. This is the kind of music that plays through drywall and out from the storm drains. Warm, but still full of shivers.
Twinkly brooding bass music from LA-based RamonPang. Consistent with the main lyric, the tension in this feels like being held underwater for a few seconds too long — just long enough for fight or flight to start setting in — until finally that tuned sub bass comes in with a great sigh of relief.
Full-bodied and progressive, this track from Dutch producer Full Monty bridges some of the gaps between dembow-tech and trance. It’s Nokia ringtones on holiday in Tenochtitlan. Solid stuff.
Out now as part of Bleeps, Beats & Bass 3 celebrating 15 years of Dutch label Basserk. Stream it or grab the compilation on bandcamp.
Baalti is San Francisco-based duo Mihir Chauhan and Jaiveer Singh. They recently sent me a couple of songs from their 2021 self-titled record, and it’s perfect music for beginning the summer. Chauhan and Singh describe Baalti as an expression of their love of sample-based music, and a forum for recontextualizing the sounds they grew up hearing as kids. It does just that. Reimagining old Bengali disco and Gujarati funk records as straightforward organic house music, Baalti does well not to over-process these precious samples — if the ingredients are great, why mess with them too much?
“Aame” turns Gujarati funk into effective modern house; “Kolkata ’78” flips a classic Rupa Biswas record into shuffling percussive disco-house. The whole EP is worth checking out, and will work as well on a dancefloor as it will soundtracking your next summer cookout. Available now for streaming, or on bandcamp.
Unexpected submission from the legendary techno label Tresor. This is not what you’d expect from Tresor — it is not techno, it’s glitch hop. But in context, this makes a lot of sense. First of all, The Fear Ratio is composed of UK techno heavyweights Mark Broom and James Ruskin, so it’s not surprising they’d have the attention of Tresor (Ruskin released two seminal albums on the label). And second, Tresor is not just a label — it’s club in Berlin that has been open in various incarnations and at various locations around the city since 1991. Berlin is not a city unfamiliar to this glitchy branch of hip hop — after all, the godfathers of this sound, Modeselektor, came up in the city, and have undoubtedly played plenty at Tresor. I’m just glad to see Tresor championing stuff like this.
Featuring fellow Brit King Kashmere, “Spinning Globe” sounds a bit like what I imagine we might be hearing if Company Flow had never broken up and had instead moved across the pond at the turn of the century (and maybe El-P’s EPS-16 had been lost on the way, forcing him to start using a cracked version of Acid Pro and whatever thrift shop drum machines he could get his hands on). It’s sci-fi hip-hop for a new decade; and the production is sharp as nails.
The song is the first single from the upcoming album Slinky out on June 24th. Pre-order the album now on bandcamp and get the first two singles straight away.
The Fear Ratio – “Spinning Globe” (ft. King Kashmere) (sc)
I have a thing for melodies that have a naive quality to them. Maybe it’s the eternal teenager in me, but I love when a song manages to capture the feeling of early teenage melancholia through the use of a sort-of miniaturized and humble melodic loop. This song, sent over by Australian producer 44 Ardent, does just that. Mellow modern house rhythms right for a ride to the forest on a spring day, “nomoreheat” relies largely on this kind of sweet child-like and comforting melody–to great effect.
Out now for streaming, but unfortunately no bandcamp.
Back in the earlier days of Palms Out, we were emphatic champions of a breed of house music that was coming out of the Bay Area. It seems quaint to say now given the ubiquity of what became known as the Dirtybird sound, but at the time, it was cutting edge stuff. Claude VonStroke was the torchbearer, and pockets of the sound sprung up all over, including in the UK (where artists often framed themselves more as an evolution of the fidget sound). But behind VonStroke, Justin Martin and his brother Christian were probably the most visible names of the pack.
I lost touch with that scene as the blog wound down in the early 2010s, but I’ve come to find that Justin Martin never let up, eventually starting his own What To Do imprint, and realizing impressive levels of main room success. His work got deeper, as is demonstrated on the track his label sent over recently, but it’s still got that characteristic Bay Area mixture of sharp percussion and big bottom end. The track comes with a nice remix pack, including the ace 2-step version below by British phenom lau.ra. But definitely check the whole pack, it also includes a really lovely mellow breakbeat rendition by Tom Jarney and one from old Palms Out favorite DJ Sliink, among others.
Justin Martin – “Let’s” (ft. Claire George) (bc)
Justin Martin – “Let’s” (ft. Claire George) (lau.ra Remix) (bc)
Parisian producer ooo_k sent me this shimmering club cut a couple of weeks ago. People love to talk about the distinct sound of French house music, but often overlook how well that pillowy aesthetic translates on French takes on the genres championed by the likes of HudMo and Rustie in the early and mid 2010s.
“WDYK” is a perfect example of this — it’s not as weeded as purple music from Joker or JKamata, or as orchestrally grand as Taz or early Girl Unit, or as glitchy as the catchall vapor twitch term, but it’s got the ingredients that tend to tie all of those references together, plus a bit of something else. I find that extra something distinctly French, though I’m struggling how else to say why. In any case, this is supremely enjoyable music.
I’ve also included a couple of previous releases from ooo_k for a little context. These are all out now for streaming, but no bandcamp unfortunately.
ooo_k – “WDYK” (sc)
ooo_k – “Way Back” (sc)
ooo_k – “Aaa” (sc)
And if you’re looking for more quasi-purple, we’ve got a new playlist for just that.
