Looking Back Through 2020 | 27/12/20

Feels like this year is really trying to go out with a bang at the moment, everything in the UK is just sinking deeper into chaos and it's hard to see things getting better anytime soon. I still think there's benefit in the sentiment of 2021 brining a bright new dawn, even if it's just something to keep us going. Reading through lots of 'Best of' lists makes me realise the sheer magnitude of talent and art that's come through in the last 12 months, and I feel saddened I've not experienced it to its full potential - so that's what I hope I can do more of next year more than anything. I'd like to share some of my favourite sonic moments myself - as ever just a personal list and am in no way qualified to be making statements about what is best. That said, I'll back that it's all great music, so listen along if you can (here's playlist link).

Can't Fight (TSHA Remix) - Lianne Le Havas

Melding the sun-soaked sweetness of Le Havas' mellow tones with the eager optimism painted in TSHA's sound design makes for one feel-good chill out. This came out at the start of summer, when we were just starting to be allowed outside a bit, and brings me back to whole days spent in Burgess Park. The suspended chords in the chorus using a loop of her voice is the most technically eye-catching, but all the details are splendid; little bursts of synth melodies here and there, the various tinkling percussion. A heavy sidechain and modest increase in tempo allow for a change of mood from the original track whilst maintaining the basis of its beauty. The whole album from Lianne Le Havas is thoroughly enjoyable, and while this is my favourite thing from TSHA this year, I'd also mention the Griff garage mix which I had on repeat for ages.

Alone, Omen 3 - King Krule

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this track and Anquetil's accompanying video numerous times this year, but here it is again. It's short and sweet, and the instrumentation feels natural, bringing you into an idle haze with the playful swing of the hihat pattern. Guitar holds steady, as bulges of synth chords are interspersed throughout. Archy stays on the softer side of his vocals other then a few delay echoes as you're taken from A to B on this through-composed journey.

Heartbreak - Bonobo, Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs

Right back to the 80's and 90's instantly with this one. 'Heartbreak' marked the first release to appear on Bonobo's new OUTLIER records, a signpost for more club-focused sound to come (exciting!!). As such, the strength is in the drums, which feel utterly UK, despite both producers being based in LA. Looping melodies focus on capturing that classic rave euphoria, and a huge buildup from 2:08 gives space for focus on the Class Action sample. Drops are simple but effective, and I love the little breakdown outro - think that will sound huge in a mix.

Lifetime - Romy

From one throwback vibe to another. This time we see a full-on embrace of cheesy Eurodance 90's vibe in an anthem that feels hyperpop and indie simultaneously. It's endlessly fun, a love song that's charmingly naive during every moment the bass bounces through. The cluster of synths are all catchy, but the high-octave motif, ever so slightly off beat that you can hear best from 2:30 is my favourite. It's a bittersweet one; as exciting and wonderful this solo debut from Romy is, it's just screaming to be heard on a dancefloor with your closest friends. In this way, 'Lifetime' is the most representative of how music has felt during 2020.

Everything U Need - Overmono

Definitely wins best artwork 2020. Something dark and gritty to ground this list so far, 'Everything U Need' coats a core detuned motif with a plethora of sharp and snappy percussive lines, like darts shooting in all directions. This is then enveloped again by sustained bass and pad notes, encapsulating the mix with a wall of sound. Setting the bar high for what is a strong EP overall, this title track's spiky exterior would allow it to bring its emotive and introspective interior to an industrial basement setting.

We Once Knew - Jagā

I weirdly had the most profound response to this track while queueing for the gym a few months ago. The emotions in the track and compelling and inspiration, yet at the same time forlorn; as if with nostalgia for something long gone and never coming back. A real tear jerker, the steady march of the break punctuates the soundscape of cloudy pads. We set the scene in order to drop the drums at 1:28. The vocal sample is pitched up and heavily processed, but still feels desperately human in it's tone. As the drums drop back in, we glide through to the end of the track in a state of inward reflection. Potentially my favourite thing I've heard this year, shout out to my friend Rich Rose for showing me this one!

My Gemini - Kllo

One of the standout tracks from a stellar album, 'Maybe We Could'. Combining dance music sonics with emotive pop songwriting, Kllo produce a distinctive and memorable sound with each track that comes out. This one feels steeped in Burial influence; at surface level in the vinyl crackle form start to finish, and looking deeper in how the bassline will enter to transform the tonality of the chords over top. A blending of full lyric line vocals with looping cuts and the voice again sampled for the chords creates unified euphonics with a signature sound.

Reflecting Light - The Avalanches

After a campaign that steadily made its way through the entirety of 2020, accompanied by visuals from Johnathan Zawada, December brought us the release of The Avalanches' 'We Will Always Love You', a stunning sonic journey with a handful of creative collabs. The production aspect of the album is strengthened by the patchwork-style weaving of samples, here seen with Vashti Bunyan's 'Glow Worms' in the mix. It's hard to separate the track from the rest fo the album, but something in the strings and Maitreya's captivating vocals feels incredibly cinematic. This melting-pot of different sounds forms a product that feels futuristic, innovative and yet firmly familiar.

It's Gonna Be Perfect - Kev Sheridan

Kev Sheridan's classical music background is evident in subtle refinements of 'It's Gonna Be Perfect', notably in the 8-bar long melody that loops across the track. Its relationship with the tonality and harmony of the track makes it addictive, and with gradual shifting in its processing remains fresh to the ears after countless replays. Beat-wise, the Berlin-based Irish producer works this break to its limit. The pair of loops, drum and synth, you would imagine to quickly get boring, and yet the space and depth explored so stylishly in the track's mix and arrangement creates a powerful sense of narrative. The rhythm and melody are like two wheels of a bike, in the same constant motion, while taking you on a journey of transforming landscapes.

Black Dog - Arlo Parks

It's been an exciting year for the poetic singer-songwriter from South London, and I've been pleased to see her music stay consistently interesting despite expanding pop success. 2020's highlight for me is this touching plea with a loved one in pain. The lyrics are tender and vulnerable, matching perfectly with Arlo's soft, hushedly rasping voice. There's an ASMR quality in the guitar recording, with focus on the organic sounds of the instrument outside of the musical tones - the friction of the stringers against the fingers, the occasional tapping against the body. The ascending piano notes give a moment of ascension out of the grey melancholy, before letting us glide gently back in.

Alien Mode - Pearson Sound

Here's a fresh serving of intergalactic energy. Pearson Sound's first EP with Hessle Audio since 2015 is consistently effervescent, but this track evokes the call to the dancefloor strongest. Percussive elements, both synthetic and sounds from across the globe, merge into a rapid rhythmic underbelly underneath the variety of synth motifs, all mutating and other-worldly, befitting the track's title. The main sample of 'you're not losing your mind' is stretched and stretched, bringing out the metallic artefacts and is reminiscent of classic UK garage (think 'Ripgroove'). 

Both of Us - Jayda G

I'll admit that I didn't expect this one to impact me as much when I first heard it, but across the months the looping piano chords have cemented themselves in my brain and now any time someone puts this on it gets instant reaction. Jayda G captures the genuine essence of house without attempting imitation. Vocals are dreamy and give a real sense of atmosphere. The huge slowdown from 3:24 right up to 4:30 is quite frankly iconic and I can imagine being a lasting festival memory with ease if dropped at the right moment. Very deserving of its Grammy nomination.

That just about does it, but I feel like I've left out loads still. In terms of albums, there's a few not included within the realms of the above that I think need a mention too. The open of the year saw great stuff from Against All Logic and Grimes. I think Dua Lipa released a pop classic with 'Future Nostalgia', and both SAULT Untitled albums (1 & 2 here) feel incredibly important and stunning listens at the same time. Other highlights for me included Shinichi Atobe's 'Yes' and K-Lone's 'Yelli'. Not to mention, Four Tet's double drop on Christmas Day. I haven't included in the above as they only just came out, but 'Parallel' feels like a refined masterpiece and '871' gives us the full array of his creative experimentation. Anyway, here's to 2021! I hope I'm on a dance floor with you before we know it. xx

Music is Escapism | 29/09/20

I generally tend to find writing about the elephant in the room uninteresting; there's no need to add to it unless there's something profound to say. But the last couple of weeks I've found it hard to ignore in my thoughts about music. With these new 6-person restrictions in place for 6 months, live music has never felt further away. In the same way Burial creates music that feels like an echo of rave rather that actually part of it - only hearing about it through his brothers - club sounds that I still listen to day in day out are now becoming more nostalgic of times that have past. Their original context is waning, and yet my enjoyment and interest in the sounds themselves is going nowhere; if anything, they're evolving. 

Escapism is as old as the human condition. As far back as there have been circumstances for us to experience, we have used the power of our minds to escape them, even for just a moment. It's a term that's often spoken by a cynical tongue, but I think it's an incredibly important part of how we cope with our struggles. No matter how tough times are, we have the capability to simply imagine better scenarios and transport ourselves there. Now is a time where this utterly human idea is a necessity for many; we can endure these hardships, even as they stretch longer than first feared, by submerging ourselves in our fondness for the past and enthusiasm for the future. Music is a vital form expression in escapism; it's a world where we can indeed tell any story, evoke any emotion, rattle up memories and envision scenes of our lives to come. 

As such, while I've always found electronic music to be particularly emotive and meaningful, the sentimental value in it has never been greater. Really, it's the one thing I can rely on to reassure myself that the best parts of life will return, no matter how far away they might seem now. They can shut clubs, but they can't stop you pushing the volume of your headphones to the limit, letting the kick drum's thump pulsate through your skin, syncing with your heartbeat to intertwine with the rhythm of your very body. It is the ultimate form of escapism, you close your eyes and the notes simply take you somewhere else, anywhere you want to go. 

For me, however, a sense of nostalgia isn't enough to fill the void left without raving. Instead, I've found trying to create my own music allows me to focus my efforts on something that feels separate to reality in a way. Particularly, in something I just made which I'll link here, it was this very feeling that I was trying to emulate; that euphoric momentary escape, lifting gently off from the ground and floating, suspended in the clouds. I thought it would be fun to share some of the ways I tried to do that in the music, maybe to give a bit of an insight into where I escape to.

First of all, the track is washed in reverb, it's constant from start to finish. If I want to achieve this, normally it's only in the reflections - while the original sound is still playing - but here I wanted to intentionally exaggerate the echoing tails of the notes to give that feeling of impossible grandeur, like being in the halls of the gods on Mount Olympus, a fantastical sense of beauty. You can really hear it on the toms and vocal samples at 3:20, but I passed it around all of the percussion throughout the track. Rather than feeling muddy though, in the denser parts of the track, I feel like it mingles with the choir voices and steel drums to create a shimmering glow that envelopes the more distinct sounds in the mix. 

Harmonically, the chords I used were almost all 7ths or had suspended notes; typical in electronic music regardless, but by adding an additional voice/note at the top of each chord per bar, they literally rise up gradually, giving a sense of ascension. Together with this I'd use a rich, fizzy chord sound that starts off with all the high frequencies filtered off, giving a deep hum, and releasing the filter as slowly as possible. You can hear it most obviously in the intro section, where the chord starts in bar 5, reaches a climax and then drops to silence, but it happens twice again. The tension it causes allows the story to really carry you away, engaging you in the world created by the music rather than the one you exist in.

To touch on the instrumentation used, steel drums are in there a lot. They have a celestial tone to them no matter how they're used, and I also used a plug-in called Paulstretch to stretch out a single steel drum note for over a minute. It created this pad sound, almost like rays of light extending out of thunderclouds, gradually coming in around 00:37 as a delicate texture in the high end. For the foundation of the harmony, though, I used piano for its purity of sound, which I wanted to set as a baseline. Some of the vocal samples, as in the opening, are runs from pop music, pitched down heavily to give an airier sound that fitted better with the track. However, I also used some samples from a video game from the 90's, Legend of Zelda Majora's Mask. You can hear them either at 2:31 or 3:36, and here's where the audio comes from. I added a huge echo to help it fit in the context, but it's more the idea than the actual sound; when I was younger these video games were a massive escape from me, I spent half my time either playing these games or pretending I was in them inside my head. While using these sounds, creating a sense of fantasy came more naturally.

Other than that, simplicity allowed the space for it to feel blissful. The basis of the beat is a constant four to the floor, clap on the second beat, hihat on the offbeat, no swing whatsoever. Parts come in and out, but they never break that pattern, grounding the track in familiar territory. The final melodic motif on the steel drum from 3:50 onwards is similarly straightforward, just three notes in a basic rhythm - the idea being to emulate unadulterated joy, without the need to convolute the feeling.

Anyway, that's about enough. Here's a new playlist of some tracks that really create an alternate reality. Hopefully will be able to write some similar bits in the future, although I'll usually stick to analysing the music of others! Stay safe xx

Electronic: From Kraftwerk to the Chemical Brothers | 30/08/20

It feels fantastic to say that this week I'm going to talk about something I actually went to. In person, like, I was there... It was a thing. It may not be a gig yet, or a club night, but I finally got round to going to the Design Museum's exhibition on electronic music. I have plenty to say on it all, in terms of what was there to absorb from an educational perspective, what was cool to look and and what really made you feel something. Above all else, it was great to see electronic music being heralded as an intrinsic part of our culture even when many of the settings it is representative of are currently out of bounds. If you are able to, you should definitely go for yourself, and hopefully what I have to say below can help sell it to you.

I can't begin to cover everything there is to offer, but will still go through my highlights in the order they are displayed in to give an over-arching sense of the experience. After a couple of giant prints of raves, the first large focus piece is a timeline detailing critical developments in the culture of electronic music, starting with early instruments such as the Theremin garnering attention, bringing us all the way to the question of how AI may influence composition in the near future. It always feels good to kick off with a run through of history to get you into the mindset, and while the array of antique hardware on display, exciting for musicians, is to be expected, the screens along the way with multimedia really enhance the experience. You stick your headphones in and become totally absorbed in that point on the timeline for just a few minutes, cementing it in your mind. Particularly striking was a clip of Jeff Mills improvising on a TR-909 drum machine; it absolutely blew my mind, I'll link it here. When presenting such a huge chunk of information, it's important to develop it beyond the dates and numbers; seeing a performance like this drives home to you why these moments in music were so influential, how at that time these incredible examples of innovation were the new things captivating everyone's attention.

Next, a couple of minor pieces including a shoutout to the wonderful illustrations from Detroit Techno artwork stuck in my memory, as well as a text piece posing the question, 'can a sound without words say something?', then we enter an area focused on the work of some individual musicians. One wall is covered in Aphex Twin artwork (and his recent video work from Weirdcore), an artist who can't be ignored in his continued status within the scene up to this very day. To the left, a screen plays a rotation of iconic live performances, one of which is Bicep's 2018 show at Printworks. It's the first event mentioned that I actually attended so far, and seeing it back helps me to feel more a part of everything around me. That's one thing I think the exhibition does very well; an important part of celebrating music is capturing the great sense of nostalgia we all have towards certain songs and nights in our lives, and the Design Museum made sure that this would be the case across all generations who have contributed to the culture. The key installation here, however, was a section dedicated entirely to a 3D performance from Kraftwerk. Especially with Florian Schneider's passing recently, the respect paid to the group here is great to see, but I can't help feeling that the experience was somewhat disappointing. The 3D aspect felt entirely pointless and with it just being a few camera angle changes on their regular live setup, it didn't even really work particularly well. As we'll come to see later on, they were more than capable of enhancing the live atmosphere in some way, and so this ended up feeling somewhat forgettable.

After this point, the exhibition begins to feel less linear. We've begun to laud the incredible thing that is live music, and so we're taken through the development of rave and dance, both in and outside the club and across the world. Two little coves are treated like info booths, to New York's club scene and Chicago DJ City respectively. I have to give a special mention to the prior option here, as Tina Paul's collection of photographs capturing the essence of those that made up the scene are sensitive and evocative, a window into just one club culture scene dance music has given the world. 1024 Architecture's 'Walking Cube' also gives its little performance here, although being right in the middle of an open room, the clanging of metal shafts smashing together breaks your focus from other pieces and so the impression the sculpture ended up leaving behind for me was a bit of a negative one.

We then pass along a corridor of graphic design development, live performance and visuals, and a taste of the endless array of imagery we choose to represent music. The more you take in, the more you realise how far beyond audio this art form extends, how everything you see is part of what electronic music is today. Potently, the corridor ends with a text piece on vinyl as a sacred object. 'The Vinyl album's round shape and sometimes legendary covers have an emblematic power that fascinates artists.' This is just one point in how vinyl has survived today despite technological advancements disposing of the 'need' for it. The fundamental truth is that the culture surrounding music is just as intrinsic to what it is as the other way around. The sounds we make are brilliant to us within the context of how we make them. There is a world to present, and the music is but the voice that tells its story. This is why we continue to use those same drum machines and synthesisers that have become symbolic in sound of the decades that have flown by. We've created a language, and old words carry ever more meaning. What's more, this concept is represented through visuals also. Artwork continues to build on what's come before, referencing the past while creating a future. This comes into music video, as with their inclusion of Joe Wilson's fantastic video for Bicep's 'Glue', which with only a handful of landscape shots around the M25 and quotes from 90's rave veterans can make your hair stand on end every time. Incredibly poignant, as Bicep head a mainstream for modern day ravers, never forgetting the roots their sound has come from.

Now comes the absolute highlight. While the Walking Cube was more of a distraction, 1024 Architecture also created a light installation specifically for this exhibition - CORE; a cube of diagonal, luminous stems, reacting with complex responses in live time to a cluster of playlists curated by a pioneer of French House, Laurent Garnier. I honestly could have sat in there for hours, it was the closest the exhibition came to emulating the myriad of euphoric feelings that raving can bring you. A few seconds after I'd settled in, Moderat's 'A New Error' pulled in. The antithesis between the delicate drifting glows during the intro and the stark, harsh movements once the bass kicks in was mesmerising. The question posed earlier - 'Can a sound without words say something?' - is answered here - absolutely. For every song I sat through, a story was painted with neon light just as unique as the last. It gave me a glimpse into the potential innovation in live visuals there could be for electronic music. Light shows can be impressive, but this complex dynamic, conversation almost, between visual and audio, akin to Four Tet's Squidsoup show, pulls you in so much deeper.

Following this was always going to be difficult, but the remainder did have some noteworthy elements. Jeremy Deller's 'A History Of The World' covered one wall, and the association between concealed identity and electronic music, something I think is of particular importance throughout the culture, is represented. The frequent appearance of robots, Daft Punk's helmets, use of masks, and Burial's 'Untrue' were all mentioned, the latter's brilliance being somewhat embedded within the producer's anonymity. The hedonistic freedom of Berlin brought some LGBTQ representation to light, although if anything this made me think it had just been squeezed in at the end for quota. A lack of real emphasis on how Black culture has influenced electronic music from its conception was evident also; other than the occasional mention it was mostly absent. What's more, with The Chemical Brothers celebrated in the final, strobe heavy experience, they join Kraftwerk, Aphex Twin and Laurent Garnier, a list of white men with the major installations dedicated to them. I can't help but be  a little disappointed by that.

So, there's a brief summary! Overall the exhibition was fantastic and worth going for yourself, I'm going to go again at least once before it ends. I think I'll give a link to Laurent Garnier's playlists here instead of doing my own this week, can hardly outdo him! I also made a couple of new tunes in the last couple weeks which I thought it would be nice to share, my SoundCloud is linked here. Have a great week everyone. xx

the sun is shining the music is PLAYING | 07/08/20

Hello all of you! I'm choosing the hottest day of the year in London to get round to writing this, probably because I don't have the willpower to do anything but flutter my fingers over a keyboard. I'm finding less and less time to write bits these days, and obviously less events to write about, which is sad. But I will always keep this up in some form; I've been learning to produce my own tracks recently and as results get better, potentially I'll start including some production breakdowns of interesting bits I've done during the process on here, if that sounds cool. Anyway, today I want to do some old school 'let's talk about the music' analysis so have taken a handful of tracks to talk about. As usual, let's look at a male vocal, female vocal, upbeat electronic, ambient, but can't resist two wildcards this time. Sit tight, get your iced coffee ready and let's go... 

#1 - I Wonder Why - Joesef, Loyle Carner

The endless stream of the on-beat tipper-tapper on the hihat underplays the dulcet tones of Joesef and Loyle Carner's classic flow. While the latter's verse is briefer than feels fitting, both bring a cool serenity to the track. Backing vocal 'ooo's and bulging strings merge and split to provide a lush bed for the leads and the guitar provides some countermelody, particularly in the spoken verse. It feels very 'smoke over a burnt orange sunset' throughout, with the soundscape settled very firmly into evening chill-out. It's the first collaboration I've heard from Glasgow's Joesef so far, and does go down very well, although I can imagine more exciting combinations in the future.

#2 - A Mirror - Kllo

Kllo's new album 'Maybe We Could' dropped a couple weeks ago, providing us all with a reflective peace to bounce against our eardrums. This track in particular actually sounds like your reflection in a lake, the beat ripples that wobble across it. The vocals in the first minute are spread across the stereo field and at different octaves, building up slowly on top of each other, giving the sense of whispering and chattering around your head. As we continue, the vocal samples continue to build in and out of each other, and the drop at 01:23 lends interest but doesn't break the peace. The plucked harp-like instrument coming in after the third minute broadens the stylistic influence on the tune, setting us up for one more drop and keeping the pace up. A lovely little number, but really do take the time to listen to the whole album for further context.

#3 - SYL - salute

If I had to describe salute's sound, I'd say it's the authenticity of UK garage injected with whatever's in Super Mario's mushrooms. Elements feel old school, yet there's something almost hyperreal in the brightness of sounds chosen. SYL is a case study into this, with the rising melodic motifs reaching into the heavens and pitched up vocals even more celestial. The EP also features 'Glamour Loop' and a version of this in reverse with the drums rearranged. It's fascinating how great they both sound, but particularly with the reverse version how intended it sounds. Not even sure which one is my favourite, although SYL makes the list for me as I haven't been able to get that 8-note melody that unites the core concept out of my head. Big fan of the album art also; the beams of bright light leaking into the landscape uncontrollably feels like a great reflection of the sound itself.

#4 Pius in Tacet - Pantha Du Prince

Pantha Du Prince, aka Hendrik Weber, is a german composer, producer and conceptual artist, and that's exactly what this track feels like; art. The brooding rhythms of the metallophone keep the trance of the track continuous as the beat brings us between moments of tension and release. Percussion from around the world is reminiscent of Bonobo's style, and the snare from about 03:30 breathes some fresh air into the story. I find the cello to be one of the most wonderful, earthy and emotive instruments in the world, and to have it used here for the bassline allows Weber to ground what otherwise feels like a very ethereal atmosphere. It's enjoyable to hear regardless, but its solemnity really brings something special when listening in solitary contemplation.

#5 - Ur2yung - Machinedrum

Machinedrum is back with an album releasing on Ninja Tune! Can't say I'm not excited. This one was an instant first-listen banger for me. The way low and high pass filters are used constantly throughout just makes you feel so gassed when the unfiltered hook comes back in every single time. It's an example of how a track that remains rhythmically the same for very long periods can avoid ear fatigue. The enormously stretched out section from 2:13 is particularly unexpected, but incredibly satisfying to allow your mind to sink into after the groove so far. It just feels very new and exciting from the North Carolinian native, and I can't wait to hear what else he has up his sleeve.

#6 - Up Inna - Cadenza, M.I.A., GuiltyBeatz

To be honest, this is the first track I've heard M.I.A. on that I've loved in a long while, and that alone has had me obsessed. Everything about it feels rapid and frantic, bringing you into the frenzy right from the get go. Just as you think there are moments of repose, the next line of agitation begins to build in. I love the occasional moment of unique movement in the bassline, and various sounds that are stylistic of South Asian music are blended in to add that flavour without feeling cheesy or try-hard. Something about the way words seem to permeate the entire track but without ever carrying the meaning in the song fascinates me. It's almost addictive, and bonus points for being a great one to run to. 

So, that should do it for this post. I'm going to try and make it to the electronic music exhibition at the Design Museum in the next few weeks, so hopefully next time I sit down to write it's about an event, for the first time in a long time! Really enjoying the playlist I've put together this week, which you can listen to here. Enjoy the rest of the heatwave weekend everyone! xx

All Under One Lockdown | 3/7/2020

It’s been a period of everyone and their mother having an opinion on raving recently. With parties beginning to pop up around the country as things begin to ease, the words ‘selfish’, ‘disrespectful’ and ‘reckless’ are on the lips of everybody watching the news. There’s no doubt in my mind that 3000 strong raves at this point are far from a good idea, but it has had me wondering what role raves are going to play in the re-expansion of culture as we gradually depart from lockdown. 

I’m sure you have seen the #LetTheMusicPlay call for help, highlighting just how badly live music is going to be hit if the government does not initiate some support. Regardless of the success of that movement, there will still be countless closures, the map of the country’s nightlife will become more and more sparse in its detail, and even before that, no matter how things go it will be a long while before clubs are open for business as they once were. Many talk about the dance music industry being over, and while this cynicism is well founded, I believe it overlooks the fact that dance and electronic music are intrinsically embedded within our lives, our society, our perception of the norm. The desire to party is not going to go away, and so rather than an abrupt halt, the closing of clubs leaves a vacuum for something else. 

The 90s rave scene had a magic that could never be recreated in the years to come; obviously I was barely born, yet it's evidenced in the quality of sound and vast expanse of repertoire that lays a foundation for the UK scene. What was fundamentally fantastic about it, is that it came hand in hand with the need to dance within the societal circumstances; rave embodied the cultural momentum of the time. Something we have lacked since is that need, replaced by its much less impactful brother, want. 

As such, I can’t help but wonder whether from the restrictions on our lives brought in by the pandemic, and the long-lasting effects it is sure to have, something new could be born. With raves being a more viable option than clubs for the foreseeable future, perhaps an organic nature will inevitably create something wonderful, and with it an injection into the excitement of new music. Not only that, but a fresh start. The political climate at the moment sees a demand more than ever for justice, for equality, for the systemic oppression that exists to be addressed now. Now, of all times, the birth of a new culture could reflect all of those feelings and carry them into our future.

It feels very sentimental to me, so for this post I thought I would talk about the emotive details in electronic music that really bring out my vulnerability on the dance floor. My favourite thing about music is how it makes people feel, and more specifically the unified connection we feel on the journey each track brings to the dance floor. Resident Advisor wrote an article on 'Dancefloor Epiphanies' once which this reminds me of, but I’m talking about something more general; the overarching techniques in music that, for me, really evoke something every time I hear them. Three ideas and three examples, let’s go:

#1 - Textures from Vocals

For decades, samples have allowed musicians to recontextualise sounds and completely change their message. This ranges far in its capabilities, from famous film quotes to turning everyday sounds into drum beats. One that I find uniquely beautiful is when a single voice is taken and turned into a thick, euphonic texture all of it’s own. It’s like weaving a detailed, delicate tapestry from a single thread, singing to your soul and bringing your hairs to stand on end. You can hear it in TSHA’s remix of Lianne La Havas’ ‘Can’t Fight’. As the first verse ends with the focus on the solo vocal, it transforms into a lush chord that is sustained across the chorus, created from that same chord. For further contrast, the vocal moves back in the mix as you are plunged into this mesmerising wonderland of euphony. As such, feelings of love, hope, and warm, patient happiness rise to the surface for me.

#2 - Drones

Dance music focuses on rapid movement and rhythms to get us moving endlessly through the night, and yet a motif I always find so powerfully moving is a single, sustained note across large parts if not the entire song. As your body dances, you close your eyes and that lone note holds onto your mind, transporting you far away, deep into your memories. Four Tet's remix of 'Opal' actually opens up with a drone of this kind, and across the track it moves in and out of focus, fluctuating in volume, but stays consistent inbetween the flurries of movement around it. In time, you can fixate a certain feeling to that note, and it can begin to mean so much more to you, everything you hear it out with others, or alone at home.

#3 - The Universality of the Amen Break

This is more something that represents so much about dance music. The Amen break has been sampled thousands of times, as I'm sure you've heard all over the internet and Mixmag likes to repost every few months. It's everywhere, but it's the very essence of the fact that it is everywhere that allows it to be so evocative. It reminds you instantly of the world you're in, of how much joy this music has brought you before, even if it's the first time hearing a track. It's a stamp that signals the same endeavour we are all on to share the best parts of humanity; empathy and understanding. A recent example I've experienced with it is Icarus' remix of 'Love To Go'. The break features right from the start, and the track builds to moments that are intensely moving, with the synth melodies dancing along the path laid out by those sharp beats all the way. 

I could go on, but I'm conscious at how long this post already is. Here's a playlist update with some ravey vibes to get you in the mood. Stay safe as things ease, were a face covering, wash your hands and all that! xx

I Can't Wait To Hear You Out | 22/04/2020

Hey guys, I hope everyone is keeping as well as they can at the moment. I've never felt my own needs fluctuate so constantly before, as this situation has caused. Some days I am completely reliant on structure, routine, and being constantly busy with productivity to try and feel like this time means something and it isn't just all bleak. Others, the thought of trying to force myself into filling the time is just painful, I need to just dissociate from reality for a while and pretend it isn't happening. 

A crap note to start on, but it's pointless not being honest about things right now. We all already have to do act like it's all fine every day on our zoom calls, on the same repetitive text messages we send as we continue through this limbo state. I've actually found it difficult to write, but not from an emotional perspective. I think that while I'm still consuming lots of music, I'm just not experiencing it the same way I would normally. I'm not hearing it out, identifying it with moments and realisations, chewing my friends' ears off about why it's so peng, sharing and repeating on commutes to work and back from parties. Without that inspiration, the words don't come as freely, and so, for now, I thought I'd talk about a few tracks I can't wait to experience in the flesh, when we finally can.


#1 idontknow - Jamie XX

Last week, Jamie dropped a new track after several years hiatus from his own music. I've been waiting for this to be released officially for a while, and needless to say it's faultless. Everything about it screams 'losing it on the dancefloor', whether its the tempo change 1:20 in, or the turret gun effect of the drums. That being said, the harmonic and melodic plot has the same emotive warmth to it that is signature of his style, it's entirely his sound. With it definitely being a progression from his earlier work, I really think it stands a signpost for music that will change the experience of his live shows. To imagine how he'll move from moments like 'Obvs', 'SeeSaw' and 'Loud Places' into this area is already exciting me, and it's a new era I can't wait to be part of.

#2 - Can't Do Without You - Caribou

One of the many concerts I had cancelled/postponed was Caribou at O2 Academy Brixton; I've seen Daphni sets a few times but this was my first for the big C. I had already envisioned how this song might feel; it's a really important one for me and the close ones in my life, and it's all summed up in those four word; 'Can't Do Without You'. As the synth textures build up and up, further and further, that sense of euphoria you feel when you dance with others who feel exactly the same as you in that moment surrounds you. The sound gets grittier, the harmonics swell and envelope you in the gravity of that statement, and for just a second, everything around you disappears. That's what music should do.

#3 - Belfast - Orbital

Another failed gig... this time I actually decided myself not to go to Printworks just before the lockdown rather than have the gig cancelled. There's a lot of music from this entire era that I still want to see in action, but now that I missed Orbital once, it's my mission to see them as soon as I possibly can. 'Belfast' has a certain grace to it that captures the beauty, the light and brilliance of rave that is less discussed. If I'm going to really go for it, I'm imagining us all at Glastonbury next summer, that vocal sample soaring over our heads as the bass shakes the ground under our feet, forgetting any of this ever happened, the sun setting (or rising!) behind us. Maybe it's too picture perfect, but I'm speaking it into existence.

#4 - One More Time

Right, this one is definitely a stretch. But not being able to get tickets to anything for such a long time has really made me think about who is particularly important for me to see before I die. Daft Punk probably comes in at number one, with this song in particular. For me, this dropping, and the unanimity of what it is with all those people across the globe, has the same elation of the new year countdown, or a surprise birthday cheer. The fact that it's been so long since they've toured and the mystery of if they'll ever return only adds to that. This live album they released I only came across when one of my friends copped it on vinyl, but I really think it captures just how magical their entire performance would be, let alone the arrival of this seminal moment in pop music.

Anyway, that does it for now. I think it's pretty clear I really miss the dancefloor lol. Stay safe and stay at home, massive props to everyone working in healthcare no matter what you're doing. The government has let you down but you're still not letting us all down in turn, and nothing will ever be able to express our gratitude. Be kind to yourself everyone. Oh, and here's a playlist update with these songs and more I want to hear live, plus some new stuff xx

The Vast Expanse of Sound | 1/4/20

Good evening, hope this post finds you well and that you are keeping safe during these worrying times? That feels like the standard way to open every message right now one of many signs of the times. While the majority of the content I've been seeing produced has been vapid, trying to get a share of the hype with momentary fads and forgettable trends, it's undeniable that the blunt change in lifestyle has bred some authentic, isolated cultural and societal instances. Home video is everywhere, clapping for the NHS was a real heartfelt moment, but actually it's the nuances of things that seem to be happening naturally that I've found interesting. In general, people are friendlier and more polite outside when you do encounter each other on your run or whatever, for London at least, and WhatsApp voice messages, themselves spreading at viral speed. The giant lasagne being cooked underneath Wembley Stadium is like some sort of myth of the quarantine period, generating a myriad off-shoot stories from its sturdy core. The one that has struck me the most exciting, has been a version of Billie Eilish's 'ILOMO', supposedly '8D Music', in reality 3D binaural audio. [I have no good visuals this time, so enjoy some pictures of my dog]

Listen to the track here (with headphones). It's an absolutely incredible example of the technique used in post-production, essentially using a panner and reverb, but it's immaculately mixed so that the sound literally sounds like it's floating around inside your head. Of course, it's just something cool to pass along once you've listened, but I really think there's a larger comment on our current reality. Human beings aren't going to lose their interest in music, and a fundamental part of what makes it so brilliant to us is sharing a sonic experience with the people around you, hence why moments from live music stick so vividly in our minds for years and years. If we're unable to be with each other physically, this desire to share has to take a new form, and listening to a track like this for the first time evokes a unique reaction that can make us feel connected to each other in the novelty of this 'sonic experience'. It's a new connection, outside of the memories from normality, that still feels personal in the word-of-mouth method of passing from one to another on WhatsApp. 

As I was writing up the points I wanted to cover for this yesterday, Max Cooper released a version of his track 'Synthesis' using the same 3D binaural processing technique, which is available here with great visuals from Kevin McGloughlin as usual. It's not quite as dramatic as the above, but still highlights the sheer amount of space there is within the sound environment that isn't usually utilised. He gives a much more in-depth explanation of the science behind 3D music in the description, and the timing of this release made me wonder if this is something we're going to see more of in the coming months. With live music essentially of the cards and everybody clambering to fill the void of potential exploration in the enjoyment of music, perhaps it is time to truly rethink the listening experience itself? How much beauty can you hide in the corners of the world that's being built between your ears?

As of yet, the effect is only achieved when you wear your earphones to separate the sound waves, but technology never ceases to advance. Should these effects be achievable or even elevated within a home sound system or exhibition space, I can imagine that the journeys you could be taken on artistically could be sensational. Yoga sessions could transcend into all-encompassing ambience. The illusion of VR could be taken further and further. Maybe it's not possible, but the current state of the world has made me realise that culture will constantly evolve and adapt to still bring the most incredible ideas to light, no matter how heavy the restrictions.

In terms of the electronic music industry's attempts to keep 'live' music continuing, there have been plenty of amazing streams going on.  Resident Advisor had a whole virtual club, Club Quarantäne, going on all weekend, although the sets were prerecorded. I really enjoyed Mall Grab's Boiler Room, but DJ EZ definitely took the cake with a 24 hour set. Shoutout to Bandcamp also for a 24 hour period of waiving revenue shares, meaning musicians made $4.3million for their own music.

On that note, there has been plenty of amazing great music to keep us going! Bicep finally released the first track from their upcoming project, 'Atlas', signalling hope that dance floors could be worth the wait when summer comes round. Maribou State released their 'fabric presents' instalment, blending some dance tunes in with soulful classic sounds, a real spread of genres and consistent movement between acoustic and digital, vintage and contemporary. Little Dragon delivered a new wave of mostly chilled vibes, with a couple tracks to get you moving mixed in, but the most exciting release for me has been Nicholas Jaar's 'Cenizas'. It's as off the wall as you'd expect, drawing sounds from a variety of classical areas, from solo piano to the celestial sounds of male choir. With moments of intense, industrial grit to balance the album out, the overall tone never loses the gentle grace of a single, snow-white feather while it floats above an endless, menacing chasm. Check it all out and some more great tracks in the playlist here, and as ever, stay safe during these worrying times. xx