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

5 Songs to Start the Summer yhhhhh | 6/5/2020

Hello everyone, and welcome to what I can guarantee will be a great read, inspired even! Kidding. I haven't got much to report as I've been inside the same four walls this whole time, as have you all, and small talk seems to have gotten increasingly difficult over the weeks. This time, I want to do another one of those '5 tracks to listen to' posts, with a male vocal, female, upbeat club track, something ambient, something random. See the list below, and here's the playlist to listen along (+ some more).

#1 - Louis Culture - Being Me

One of the exciting underground artists from South West London (big up), Louis Culture has been putting out fire for a while now. This new track sets up atmosphere with unnerving undertones pretty quickly, using some detuned chords gliding up and down under Louis' steady, assured flow, as he recites the shit he's put up with over the years. It's a refreshing sound; the production shifts between contrasting sections more intricately than a verse, chorus pattern. In particular, the 'two step' echoing sample into the outro is slick and ominous while still maintaining rhythmic groove that keeps your head bobbing. Milo Blake has provided a sick visual to pair with the track - here - including some clever stop motion collage work that's particularly memorable. Everything great about this city.

#2 - Arlo Parks - Black Dog

Oh Arlo, you can do no wrong. Another massive South London talent at the moment, 'Black Dog' summarises everyone's fears and anxieties right now in an ode to a friend she can't pull out of their dark place. She's emphasised in the past that her lyrics always come first in the process, which is reflected in the poetic simplicity in which she conveys emotions. Simple acts like going 'to the corner store to buy some fruit' are the little gestures we use to communicate with those we love who are closed off from us. The laid back beat shepherds us through the song as the plucked guitar chords plod gently across your sense like ripples on a pond. Molly Burdett directed the video that dropped with the track, capturing human intimacy and interaction in a handful of elegant shots; their collaborations continue to provide stunning results. The melancholic overtones do take the limelight, but the track still sustains the lull of early summer in its sound.

#3 - Tom Jarmey - I Want You Touch

Nothing has made me want to get back out and party more than this tune. Sampling Alicia Keys' 'If I Ain't Got You' and Nile Rogers 'I Want Your Love' and combining them in the best possible way, the Manchester-based producer really captures the essence of Chicago house and sprinkles it into this banger. The chopping of the start of the hook before the drop is a classic technique but feels cheesy in no way whatsoever. The variation of the specific cuts in Keys' vocals keeps the ears entertained and pace is kept consistent throughout the whole five minutes. The track could actually easily finish about a minute and a half earlier, but that last drop is a wonderful surprise. Everything about it feels like sun, skies and drinks in the park. Oh, and beautiful hi-hat.

#4 - Hiroshi Yoshimura - Creek

Hiroshi Yoshimura's 'Green' is a 1986 release of lush, ambient beauty in the footsteps of Brian Eno and others, and itself greatly influential. Spotify uploaded the album onto their service in March, and 'Creek' is my favourite selection to credit the album. The perpetual oscillation of the xylophone instrument fades in and out of focus over fresh, cool and mysterious pads, creating a soundscape befitting of an actual creek, hidden under dense foliage, the water glistening here and there, reflecting the light that sneaks through. It's calming and could certainly suit meditative circumstances, but the continuous movement also gives enough interest to maintain full focus throughout.

#5 - Wilma Archer - Decades

Featuring exciting collaborations with the likes of Sudan Archives and MF DOOM, Wilma Archer provides an instrumental work with 'A Western Circular'. that would have been fantastic to see live in concert. With current circumstances, that isn't yet possible, but that doesn't take away from the quality of the music whatsoever. 'Decades' has a classic quality that sits nicely with the title and features some wonderful interplay between live drums and the vocals of Samuel T. Herring and Laura Groves. I find peace in its solemnity, and the lyrics feel unbelievably potent right now. The message is powerful, 'living in a world so complicated', and ending on 'You'll help me through' before giving us over two minutes of instrumental and riffs to let the gravity of the words sink in.

Five tracks I'm very excited about this week to be honest! Could have left the playlist with just that, but I've chucked a few more cool bits and bobs in there too. I also have made a mix featuring a couple of these which you can find here, I feel like everyone needs lots of fresh listening material at the moment. Stay safe 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

Four Tet - Sixteen Oceans | 17/3/20

First post from quarantine! Hopefully not one of many, but self-isolation does bring with it some time to develop your personal relationship with music, both old and new. With things feeling bleak around the world, song has once again become something to bring us together, as can be seen with the Italians singing from their balconies in solidarity against this horrible virus. Last Friday also saw the release of Four Tet's highly anticipated album, 'Sixteen Oceans', and to be honest, I don't want to talk about anything else right now. Kieran has said many have told him they've found the album calming during current events, and that he made it with the intention to have a peaceful mood.

While that mood is certainly apparent, that is not to say that the album isn't teeming with exciting details and intricacies. The opening track, 'School', immediately introduces a continuation of the sound heard in his recent releases, as well as tracks off 'New Energy' such as 'Planet'. The rattling open hi-hat gives a sense of frenzied momentum to bounce off the steady pace of the bassline and chimes of synth melodies. This is followed by 'Baby', the main single released in the build up towards the album. The cheekiness in the rhythmic patterns of the drums is reminiscent of classic garage, encapsulated within the ethereal world of calm in Kieran's production and Ellie Goulding's angelic vocals. As with the visuals provided by Joanna Nordahl, the track feels flies high through vast lands, landing in an isolated glade during the stillness of the middle as we drop close to silence. As the drums come back in, our wings spread and we rise up into flight once more.

One element that seems consistent in Four Tet's music is its inherent futuristic tone, having an other-worldly element that takes it further than the world as we perceive it today. As such, 'Harpsichord' takes its namesake as the lead, an instrument from the renaissance and baroque periods, to create a moment of ambience suspended between the nostalgic and celestial, like the folklore of foreign galaxies. The harpsichord can also be heard embedded in the textures of 'Teenage Birdsong' which follows. The opening almost sounds like some sort of clockwork mechanism being wound up, and the melody that follows like the call of a cuckoo-clock. Its eccentricity establishes variety whilst still maintaining the mellow tranquility heard in the album so far. Kieran continues to use the technique of recalling the preceding track in 'Romantics', which itself is peppered with samples of birdsong. Gorgeous harp melodies punctuate the foreground like sun rays, with pitched-up vocal samples dotted around them like white clouds. Rhythmic elements are kept minimal, only keeping the pace steady rather than establishing a solid beat too bluntly.

As we reach 'Love Salad', the momentum begins to build. Emphasis is certainly on the beat here, and tensions rise and fall through the track as waves crashing down on a beach, with dense textures dropping back down to the 'click, click' of the wood block. The track marches on, featuring the most extraterrestrial elements thus far, but its edges still feel soft yet. At this point, Kieran has primed us for something club ready without it feeling ill-fitted in the album, and so enter 'Insect Near Piha Beach'. We get four bars of reverbed, filtered introduction before the kick smashes in with one of his classic style beats. The track centres around a stunning 16-bar melody of broken chords, rising from the depths to a climactic peak and sinking back down, played on a plucked string instrument brimming with mysterious spirituality. It's the type of sound you expect to pull you into a trance, and paired with the heavy four-to-the-floor, you can just imagine losing yourself again and again on the dancefloor. The track could easily end around 04:20, but instead, he plays the sample one more time, simply reversed, on its own, before tailing off into a final silence. Beautiful.

'Hi Hello' and 'ISTM' provide us with some interludes, the former recalling a Japanese dojo and the latter pairing some more birdsong with the wanderings of piano notes. 'Something in the Sadness' utilises intricate layering of evocative melodies that build up as the song progresses. As such, it has one of the strongest narratives in the album, as if the bells and tones are chattering together to really tell us something, and to me the message is one of hope, as the combination of so many different sounds and patterns can create something so dazzling. The single minute of '1993 Band Practice' is purely ambient, and marks a movement back into true tranquility once again. 'Green' opens with further birdsong, and after some reversed piano chords, an assortment of beeps, quite like those in 'LA Trance' play over some rapid movements in the lower, further back parts of the soundscape. 

'Bubbles at Overlook 25th March 2019' is an interesting one. All of these tracks can make you feel like you are transcending reality in some way, but here, if you close your eyes, you can imagine for a moment that you are inside some sort of test tube, dormant, on the edge of existence, but not quite there yet. In contrast, the drone bass note that opens '4T Recordings' firmly grounds you, focusing on the stillness within. Scattered vocal samples are heavily sustained, and fly above with the birdsong, broadening the texture without disturbing the peace. 'This Is for You' is another representative of hope for me, this time in its continued use of upwards arpeggios, like hands reaching up, stretching into the blue sky. It precedes the final track on the album, 'Mama Teaches Sanskrit', a wonderfully tender moment to end on. Chimes bounce around with delay echoing around our ears as a mother teaches her daughter to speak the ancient Eastern language, an intimate moment, passing on knowledge from antiquity. With something so beautiful in concept, there is little need to add too much complexity, and so the few notes Hebden uses simply allow the atmosphere to subtly envelope the scene.

So, I think it's fair to say that the peaceful mood Four Tet was going for has been utterly achieved. The album has a mountain peak formation to it, with a build from ambience into more upbeat tracks and back again, yet serenity stays apparent throughout, and the nuances of unity can be heard in the transitions between each track. With the daunting current outlook in the world, these sixteen tracks give us a momentary escape, a ray of light across the gloom. No new playlist this time, just listen to the album! Stay safe everyone. xx

Top Ten Songs of 2019 | 24/12/19

Christmas is the time for GIVING and in that spirit, sweet lord, do I have some gifts to give you! I decided that I couldn't stop at one, but instead have two great posts to share with you to round off the year. That's right, in similar fashion to everyone else who has something else to say about music, I have made lists for both the year and the decade! So original, so unique, so scintillatingly riveting that I bet you're all on the edges of your seats as you read this. Below are my top ten songs of the year and my reasons why, and then click here for the 'decade' issue. Of course, please see this as my take and an insight into my experience of what this year has to offer; music is completely subjective, and everyone's experiences of it contribute heavily to the impact it has. This makes it pointless to criticise annuals as being accurate or inaccurate, and instead they should be taken as an opportunity for everybody to share their review of the last twelve months of their life through sonic material.

#10 - Bromley - Joy Overmono

To start things off, we've got a tune that has been played in set after set through the second half of this year, and finally got released in November. The combination of Joy Orbison and Overmono was something we never knew how badly we needed until this. I first heard it in Ben UFO's Dekmantel Boiler Room set where it stood its ground amongst impressive peers in an eclectic mix of tracks. That vocal sample going 'say it yeah-eh-eh-eh-eh, say it' dropping back into the beat satisfies your ear drums every time you hear it. Aside from this dramatic break in the music, the alternating notes of the tuned percussion give off such a wonderfully acoustic timbre that grounds the electronic beeps and whirling you hear, balancing the two ends of the production .

#9 - Deaf Ears, Blind Years - Saint Jude

Saint Jude's EP was going to have to make an appearance somewhere on this list considering how much I've listened to it consistently since it came out, and narrowing down my favourite was tricky. Ultimately, the raw vulnerability of the lyrics, mellow synth tones and a drum beat with one fantastic snare come together to create a pool of reflection in music form. With its release signifying a move into a more acoustic sound, genre-blending and use of his own vocals, 'Deaf Ears, Blind Years' allows Jude to share something more personal. I like to think of the UFO-sighting theme of the music video as symbolistic of the search for something that we were sure was once there, but there seems to be no trace of it left. 

#8 - Linked - Bonobo

Grammy-nominated Bonobo, no less. 'Linked' followed up his 'fabric presents' compilation with a continuation of his masterful ability to create a sound appropriate to both solitary chillouts and the dance floor. Seeing it performed live at Printworks definitely drove home the latter, particularly as the the countermelody builds up to a glorious, but not over-indulgent, final drop. An amalgamation of soothing vocal snippets, polyrhythmic percussion over a four-to-the-floor beat, and an acid line soaring through the middle. It's gentle, celestial, euphoric and ethereal, and gives you a feeling like you're walking off a cliff-edge and onto the air, suspended above the crashing waves below.

#7 - Midnight Hour - Skrillex, Boys Noize, Ty Dolla $ign

Never thought I'd see Skrillex on this list, but here we are and I'm not sorry about it whatsoever. This track soundtracked my summer before it was even released, and has played at most major events I've been to at some point or another. The individual elements seem absurd to combine, but in this weird, hard-to-put-your-finger-on way it works faultlessly. The honey-dipped R&B vocals and piano accompaniment are blasted out by a classic house beat, flurries of chopped up samples and the highlight of a gritty 3-note motif. It's not too serious, and this humour is what sells it; when you're knee deep in a crowd and acting stupid anyway, what else would you want to hear?

#6 - Bias - Floating Points

Floating Points' release on Ninja Tune, 'Crush', has gone down with huge critical success and has featured on numerous album of the year lists. It's been exciting to see both a return to his dark and gritty club roots and have such a complexly crafted set of visuals to accompany the release, building up hype to his live shows. With 'Crush' being quite the electronic-classical masterpiece, the three-note motif that opens this track (as well as the higher octave response) is an unmistakeable reference to Rachmaninoff's 'Prelude in C# Minor', depicting 'Bias' as the raver younger brother of one of the most brilliant pieces of piano music of all time. The rapid breakbeat builds up to a split second silence in the middle of the song, as if the world ceases to exist for just a moment. it's ominous, cavernous, and a brilliant five minutes of brass, beats and synths.

#5 - He - Jai Paul

After a hiatus of several years from one of the most influential artists of recent years, Jai Paul's release of the EP 'Do You Love Her Now / He' certainly had people talking. When your music is leaked before it's been finished, that's a hell of a lot of pressure on what a finished product will be, and yet of course he delivered. 'He' has that same nuance to it that makes his synthesis of styles fuse perfectly into what really can be called unique. Paul's falsetto vocals are heavenly, blending well into the shapeshifting instrumental. Despite some of the darker sounds he uses, it's great to hear something so optimistic with this release, especially after such a long time. Also, shout out for the open statement he put out with the EP; it's an incredible insight into what he went through -  you can read it here. 

#4 - Claustro - Burial

Burial once again reinvents the nostalgic lens through which he beams the sound of rave with this banger. A classic garage two-step is muddied in with distorted, detuned vocals, little trumpet motifs and hearty synth chords, all of course encompassed by that trademark vinyl crackle. He manages to make a club track creepy, while still capable of being the highlight moment of a set, and the degree to which it's upbeat is unusual and exciting. In particular, the final little breakdown at the end with the words 'I've got my eyes on you, tonight, I've got my eyes on you' gives us this little hyped up send off before the track ends. 'Claustro' stands out as certain aspects are so new, different, and unexpected from Bevan, yet it remains utterly and unmistakably Burial.

#3 - TLSL (Stiches) - Lava La Rue

I love this song (shoutout to my trip to New York). As ever, London is teeming with exciting new sounds, and La Rue's NiNE8 Collective is a noteworthy one that's been doing bits this year. In particular, 'TLSL' encapsulates youth, joy, summers, friends, just good vibes all round. The chorus makes you smile every time it comes in, but for such a sunny track it still packs plenty of attitude in her flow. The 4-note syncopated bassline keeps the feel-good tone marching along, cause 'we've gotta keep it positive'; it's optimism in sonic form, and I'm here for it.

#2 - Sunspear - O'Flynn

As mentioned a couple times before in this blog, Aletheia is potentially my favourite album from this year. The variety of sound within the same overarching concepts are very pleasing to the ear, and it placed an anthem like 'Desmond's Empire' in good company. If I look back to which track really stayed consistent in its effect throughout the year, 'Sunspear' takes the cake. It's celebratory, excessive, electrifying and had the best reaction from the Printworks crowd I've ever seen. (EDIT: Saw him the other day at Jazz Café - even better within his own set.) There's nothing like a lull down to silence to be punctuated with a blast like that descending melody, preceded effectively with a filtered loop just beforehand. One is never enough though, and O'Flynn uses the exact same technique a second and third time round. The party never ends with this one, and you can just imagine those South American rhythms fading off into the sunset to their next destination.

#1 - Only Human - KH

I started this blog about a year and a half ago when I saw Four Tet's set at Lost Village and felt the need to record my feelings about it. That was the first time I ever heard 'Only Human', many months before it was officially out under his alias 'KH'. After listening to a rip of it from one of Ben UFO's radio shows, by the time it dropped I was well acquainted, but that in no way stopped it from being the most memorable song of the year. On its own, it's one of Kieran's best takes on a full-force dance floor anthem. Each drop is distinct from the last, and the dirty, pulsating kick that comes in just at the end is a naughty last goodbye. What he's done with the track this year, however, takes it to another level. The clunky march of the beat can be heard practically throughout his entire sets sometimes, always in the background, tantalisingly teasing the track's approach. He usually follows it by mixing in 'Lush' as well, an unbelievable combination that almost creates an entirely new sound. 'Only Human' is everything great about Four Tet in 2019.

So, that's all for this year, again, click here if you'd like to check out some picks from the last ten instead. Playlist link for the above is also here. There's obviously been an unbelievable amount of fantastic music this year, and it was hard to know what really had a sense of the best of the best for me. Special shoutout also to Fixate's remix of 'Ripgroove' also and for the waves it made appearing on Sherelle's Boiler Room set (around 23:53), definitely a moment to remember. Here's to another year of sick tunes. xx

Sick Gyaldem | Boiler Room | Mahalia | 26/11/19

Women are still massively underrepresented in creative industries, and the most frustrating thing about this is how often we see straight, white men, who feel threatened, try to dismiss any female who is becoming successful as only being famous for her looks. It’s an obvious, easy and pathetic sexualisation that has been going on throughout our history as a way to prevent women from being seen as talented in the same way as men. Clear bullshit. Which is why it’s great to see it when women are consistently killing it. 

In the last few days I went to two very different events that both had a core focus on female brilliance. Last Friday, Boiler Room threw a night at Electric Brixton with a line up including DJ Storm, SHERELLE and Sicaria Sound in an all ladies line up. The vibe was refined to still encapsulate the Boiler Room aesthetic without the usual intimacy. There wasn’t any recording, and the crowd was huge, but a magnified version of the huddle round the DJ booth held the atmosphere on the stage, as the rest of the theatre curved round it. Musically, Drum and Bass was of course persistently the focus, and Sherelle's set kept these hyper speed melodies goings and going, not letting the energy down for a second. There was one moment when she held a drop back unexpectedly and everyone started losing it, playing around with the power behind building hype like this. There was a lot of pop songs sped up to such BPMs that they're almost unrecognisable, which gives you a little exclamation mark feeling when it suddenly hits you what it is.

DJ Storm was similarly captivating with the audience surround her, and there's something gracefully cool about the way she hangs over the decks, dropping in banger after banger as if it's nothing. The key thing that stood out to me is how gritty and real the attitude felt the entire time I was there. Electronic music is heavily male-dominated to the point where unless girls play sets that are dark and heavy, they can't be taken seriously. But there was no sense of impersonation here, like anything was trying to be proven. They owned the roughness unapologetically, but femininity was not something to be hidden from the sound, it was an immutable element of it.

Way on the other end of my musical interests, I saw Mahalia at the Roundhouse last night. I haven't actually seen a solo live singer like that for ages, so it was nice to enjoy that focus and her speeches. Respect for telling everyone to f*ck Boris (today is the last day you can register to vote, do it here), but my favourite moment was actually how she described giving up on her dreams to make it in music at 18. She went back to her home town, handed out CVs for a couple weeks and then she thought, there's no way I can live my life not writing music, and wrote 'Sober' straight after. I love a good 'never give up' story, and was loving the goosebumps during this one. Her voice is tantalisingly smooth over a live band, and she has a really sick, playful energy onstage, running around the stage and giving the occasional cheeky hand gestures.

Opening with tracks like 'Hide Out' and 'Do Not Disturb' was great to get everyone excited and involved from the get go, and 'What Am I?' saw her treacle falsetto tones complimented by these sunset beams of light pouring out from the stage. In the same way Mahalia bounded around the stage, the focus of the performance would also. 'Good Company' featured a sick guitar solo, 'Simmer' broke into the first chorus with a dramatic pitch black, and a number of the collaborating artists from her album joined her onstage. She embodied confidence, and throughout the two hours that was the clear message she wanted to put out to the world; whatever you do, have confidence in who you are, particularly aimed at fellow women of colour.

In terms of women's recorded music, I want to mention Shanti Celeste's recent release 'Tangerine', which interlocks ambience and rapid rhythms in a bright and optimistic chain of tracks. As such, I've featured two of the songs on this week's playlist update. That's one of several album releases that have caught my eye in the last few weeks; Blood Orange, under his real name Devonté Hynes released a stunning album of mixed percussion which recalls the Minamilism of Steve Reich and Terry Riley to me. Roland Tings and Max Cooper both also released highly emotive electronic works which you should definitely check out if you have time. All of these are featured on the playlist, so have a listen to get a quick taster of everything. Thanks for reading this week, and don't forget to register vote if you're reading this on the day - today is the deadline! 

Support the amazing women in your life xxx

Musical Anastrophe | New York | 11/9/19

It's undeniable that any piece of music can take someone back to a very specific place, event, time in their life. I remember my Dad telling me when I was really young that a song was hard to listen to now because it brought back so many memories, but it wasn't until I was much older that I understood where he was coming from. Music builds foundations in the mind for memories to scale up from, it cements exact moments of our past into the soul, whether joyful or mournful. I've talked about nostalgia and memory and those kinds of things plenty of times, but something that occurred to me today was that these foundations aren't necessarily set. In fact, it's very much possible for the songs that hold such great significance to us to shift in meaning through our lives. The time a song is created doesn't necessarily hold the all-encompassing basis of the effect it will have, and songs are constantly displaced into points of your life and continue to have new meanings, additional meanings, as they emphatically engorge our emotions as the years pass by.

I want to call it musical anastrophe. If in poetry, you have a recurring line and you come to assume its meaning, just so in music could you come to assume a song's meaning to you, and yet without an alteration of content, suddenly that song's meaning can completely change, just as if the word order of the line has been jumbled up. Maybe it's a reach. The point is, music can stay exactly the same and completely change simultaneously. Electronic music and its reliance on technology means that when it's first released it sounds new and futuristic, as you envisage a world where computers take over more and more, and in twenty years time that's replaced by the idea of it sounds 'retro', and it's the simplicity that resounds to its audience. This obviously doesn't only apply to electronic, but is ultimately a symptom of the progression of styles and mutation of genres.

The core concept of this to me comes from the change within the individual, however. What really got me thinking about this has been my trip to New York, which I'm pretty sure I've told everyone in the world about at this point. As with any trip away, me and my best friend wondered beforehand what songs would turn out to be iconic from it, but it never crossed my mind that they would be old tunes from my life rehashed again. 'Get Free' by Major Lazer has made me emotional for years for a million reasons, but I'd found it quite hard to listen to because it reminds me of a lot of memories with an ex and all that kind of stuff, but it came on my shuffle on the subway at some point, and then we played it at the AirBnB, then in a cab, on the subway again, and it solidified its place as a representative of the trip. Suddenly, I listen to it and my immediate subconscious reaction comes from a totally different place, so much more is associated. That's not to say everything else has gone away, but it becomes a layer in a more detailed painting. Daft Punk's 'One More Time' is timeless anyway, but remained a banner for my early childhood mostly, and now it's a symbol of grid system streets and skyscrapers, intertwined eternally in that friendship. omg. so deep.

There's another side to it from what I experienced going out. All of our nights were fun and hilarious, but mainly as weird little events mapped out and the general buzz of being on holiday. On the Friday, we went to Yaeji's 'Elancia' warehouse party at The 1896 and this was genuinely a mad one. The artwork was so cool before we even bought our tickets, and it was Brooklyn to a tee, this huge abandoned building with portaloos and food stalls, a giant chill room, it genuinely was giving me rave vibes. On that note, they were playing tunes I (ignorantly) never thought I'd hear across the pond. The Prodigy's 'Smack My Bitch Up', Chemical Brother's 'Hey Boy, Hey Girl' and 'Where's Your Head At' by Basement Jaxx all went OFF, mixed into what was mainly heavy techno consistency and offset with pretty varying visuals. Yaeji was having such a sick time, and her b2b style with the rest of the performers (Gardens, Hot 'N Spicy, Papi Juice, The Push, School of Hard Trax, Soul Summit Sublimate) was more peng complimentary vibes rather than pure duality. Anyway, it all came together to permanently change how I thought of those songs and what they meant to me, bringing in a very specific moment in a country I would never have thought I'd associate them with.

So it's all very much old song, new smiles, but there were definitely some new releases that have been big over the course of last week for me too. Lava La Rue's 'TLSL (Stitches)' is wholesome, warm and wonderful, giving me the exact chilled overtones holiday gives me. The little unison bridge with a breath between each word nicely breaks it up and ending with 'we always keep it positive' has been stuck in my head since. O'Flynn released an incredible album with 'Aletheia', up there with my favourites of the year so far, it's so good. So many floor filler bangers, absolute crowd-pleasers, and his fusion of world sounds stays coherent and within the same theme throughout. Even though lots of the tracks were already released, it's just fantastic as a combined body of work. To be honest, I might make a proper post to discuss it in depth, but we'll see. 'Sunspear' has been on repeat since it came out. Lastly, Mahalia released her debut album 'Love and Compromise'! It's really solid, and I'm happy to have a new RnB album to play all the time. The intro track is actually my favourite of the new ones, 'Hide Out', and I just think the Eartha Kitt sample at the beginning is so peng and simple, quickly introducing the title/theme. Hope you guys are having a great week, thanks for reading. xxx