MUSIC | Records
ALBUM OF THE ISSUE
EXPERIMENTAL / TECHNO / AVANT-GARDE LEE GAMBLE KOCH (PAN) ●●●●● Drifting from the deconstructionist jungle leanings found on Lee Gamble’s previous PAN releases Dutch Tvashar Plumes and Diversions 1994–1996 back in 2012, KOCH is a different type of mutant. There’s still the sense of organic space underneath the 4x4 techno punchiness
of ‘Motor System’. From the start Gamble has immersed himself in a cloak of digital warmth similar to that of Wolfgang Voigt’s GAS project, among other Kompakt / Koln contemporaries. The channelling rhythms on ‘Oneiric Contur’ are a sound-design student’s wet dream – a bridging of dance and minimal acoustics which almost strays into an experiment at times. The mid-tempo techno of ‘Head Model’ disrupts the chin stroking, flowing in like a Hyperdub banger, then yo-yoing back into a clubby playfulness on the follow-up track ‘HMix’. ‘Voxel City Spirals’ hedges all bets and stands out as one of
Gamble’s finest and most jarring compositions, a distillation of processes with just enough tempo and wonkiness to tick all boxes. What’s both tricky and fascinating about Lee’s work is the amount of personality hidden within its textures. There’s a sense of something highbrow but with enough space to meander at its own pace. With a good number of dancefloor cuts, KOCH will definitely appeal to the more introspective techno heads out there, but it’s the moodier and dissonant pieces that give the long-player a balance which many of his contemporaries tend to overlook in their work. Despite its slightly longer than necessary playing time; this is Gamble’s most diverse release to date. (Nick Herd)
ELECTRONIC RUSTIE Green Language (Warp) ●●●●●
Electronic producer Rustie’s debut three years ago, Glass Swords, was like shoving packets of fizzy Chewits in your ears; gaudy, exuberant, mildly nauseating; a kind of aural sugar rush. It was rightly heralded as being ground- breaking and invigorating, even if it was a bit toilsome; like one too many goes on the Wurlitzers. It had charm though, a febrile and untethered Day-Glo ecstasy. His follow-up reaches for those same woozy heights and largely succeeds; the landscape it emerges out into is different, however. The US’s gauche love-in with EDM has seen an amping up of the stakes, and it has undoubtedly influenced Rustie’s productions. Green Language has the necessary braggadocio and canny cameos that will no doubt soon see the Glasgow native flying to Las Vegas in private jets while being grilled by Annie Mac on what exactly is his favourite sushi bar in Pollok.
The album drips with that grandiose ambition. It opens with a pair of short synthy swashes (like EDM via OPN) before the obscenely euphoric ‘Vaptor’, with its hulking peaks and troughs, recreates the sensation of listening to Daft Punk’s ‘Indo Silver Club’ while trapped inside a tumbledryer. ‘Paradise Stone’ is a relatively delicate vignette which segues into a pair of rambunctious guest MC spots, from D Double E, and then the incorrigible Danny Brown at his most shrill and wearisome, rapping at you from his high chair (see single review, page 73). ‘He Hate Me’ featuring Gorgeous Children is a more seductive effort while ‘Velcro’ channels Rustie’s penchant for anthemic arpeggios with big build-ups and even bigger drops. ‘Lost’, in contrast, is a futuristic G-funk ballad with Redinho crooning on vocoder and ‘Dream On’ is an R&B slow jam filtered through some more brazen synths. The record closes as it begins, with some earnest ambience.
It doesn’t have the impact of his debut, but the swagger and the capriciousness on offer is still intoxicating. Stop the ride I wanna get off? Not just yet. (Mark Keane)
HOUSE / ELECTRO-POP THE JUAN MACLEAN In a Dream (DFA) ●●●●● NOISE / EXPERIMENTAL VARIOUS ARTISTS Bourgeois Curb Stomp (Herhalen) ●●●●●
With the demise in recent years of LCD Soundsystem and the Rapture, it seemed like the early 2000s vintage of ‘punk-funk’ (for that’s what it was excruciatingly known as) had died a death. Yet the label which curated the style keeps on kicking, and previously minor players on it have come out with some increasingly outstanding work in recent times. First we heard a resurgent Shit Robot, and now the Juan Maclean, three albums after their 2005 debut, have produced a career-high record. In a Dream is well-named, for its style is blissed-out and blurry at the edges,
although there’s a sublime groove running through the whole album which merges the dense electronic stylings of vintage house with a fluid feel that’s straight out of the disco handbook. The Juan we’re talking about is John Maclean, the driving force behind the group, although this time his partner in composition Nancy Whang – a key driver of LCD Soundsystem – has been pushed further to the fore. Her voice is integral to almost every track and it plays off Maclean’s well, a layer of cape-wearing disco frost alongside his warmer tones. Every song on this record is strong, from the John Carpenter synth churn of
‘A Place Called Space’ to ‘Here I Am’s Whang-tastic Korg groove and ‘Love Stops Here’s strong impersonation of mid-80s New Order. The tone shifts impressively while keeping that same persistent groove throughout, strutting into the incessant nu-soul of ‘Running Back to You’ and coasting through on open-hearted version of acid house with subtle Asian notes on ‘A Simple Design’. On the one hand it all feels strangely old-fashioned – retro, even – but that’s down to the masterful balancing of influences the pair have woven together. It’s reminiscent of the sound of Chicago in 1988 by way of Düsseldorf in the 70s, but it’s all New York. (David Pollock) ■ The Juan Maclean play Sneaky Pete’s, Edinburgh, Sun 21 Sep.
70 THE LIST 21 Aug–18 Sep 2014
Self-described ‘industrial dub power trio’ Ex-Servicemen breaks down into its component parts for this three-way split. Glasgow-based independent cassette / download label, Herhalen have issued this release both in digital form and a tantalisingly arty cassette package (each including a uniquely evocative Polaroid snapshot).
Largely crafted from drum machines and feedback, Lenina’s three short tracks consist of treble-heavy ear abuse and fatally obscured harmonics, with zero concessions to structure or development. There are clear strata though, with a rich molten vein running deep beneath the crusty grime and crud topping. ‘False Widow, False Panic’, the last and best, arrives in a tantrum of degraded guitar noise rammed face-first through a £20 cider-drenched amp.
Ship Canal’s ten-minute-plus contributions are more low-key. On ‘The Stigma of Drinking Alone’, spoken-word samples and emerging wooze entwine, while percussive crackles, maniacal cinema Wurlitzer and subliminal dub basslines ramp up the disorientation. ‘Communicating Directly With The Restaurant’ finds Mr Canal reeling off a record of takeaway transactions as the world around him spirals into queasy abstraction and skittering beats.
The most diverse offerings come from Splashy the Blame Shifter. ‘Petrol Station Homophobe’s whirring machinery and sparse, dusty piano result in something quite melancholically beautiful (or beautifully melancholic). ‘Excitement
as Officer’ bounces charred, fetid synth pulses back and forth across your brainspace, then melts into remote, dead- factory ambience. Finally, ‘South of Heaven’: a raging 12-minute torrent of scalding, churning harsh-noise tar and gleefully malevolent brutality.
Bourgeois Curb Stomp is an inspiring, varied triumvirate, proving that DIY’s outer fringes offer not only gloriously intoxicating noise, but subtlety, depth and naked, grubby humanity. (Matt Evans)