WONKY CARTON

Whilst I spent my Saturday night still recovering from Friday night falling asleep ridiculously early watching the incredible Human Planet, I understand that a lot of people would have been out dancing the night away. Here’s something from Sentinels that would go down a treat blaring out of a huge sound system.

To begin with the duo adopt a kitchen-sink-and-all approach, throwing synthesised arpeggios against vocal stabs, but it soon all locks together. The production is crisp, and the break downs are euphoric. When I listen to music, really good music, it always seems to evoke colour. This track makes me think of all the colours in the rainbow. A lot of 2-step and garage is a bit too dark for my liking, but ‘Spirals’ has a lot more warmth to it. I discovered this courtesy of the wonderful people at Fundamental Garage.

Now, as I’m listening to England trying to curtail India’s progress in the Cricket World Cup, with the sun attempting to shine through the light layer of cloud on a Sunday morning, this track seems slightly more apt. It’s glitchy electronica (my favourite kind of electronica) and it comes from Berlin - the brilliant Nils Frahm has teamed up with Anne Müller on cello.

It’s sometimes hard to combine classical instruments with electronic music and for it not to feel forced, corny or unnecessary, but here the beats and the samples are perfectly complimented by the beautiful and restrained playing of the cello. As with Sentinels, the breakdown is where the heart of the song is - so simple, yet breathtakingly effective. 

New track from Brooklyn band TV on the Radio, ahead of their April LP release. Called ‘Will Do’, it goes for a more conventional beat than some of Dear Science and uses beautifully elegant strings toward the end. In the Carton’s opinion, it’s pretty damn fine, and bodes very well for the forthcoming album.

When I listen to the music of Vondelpark, I would say that I am 50% more likely to have an ‘Oasis’ moment. Regardless of whether you love or hate the vituperative Mancunians (and I don’t understand why anyone would like Beady Eye), I maintain that this term is perfectly apt for the sensation one can experience when listening to this young artist, even if Vondelpark has absolutely nothing in common with Noel, Liam, Bonehead, or baggy-trousered Britpop.

I describe the ‘Oasis’ moment thus. The feeling itself is one of supreme confidence or innate but explicable happiness, a reflection on good news or of good mood. The most suitable scenario is a busy street on an overcast day, the pavement stones cracking and blurring beneath your feet, while the people around you are animated on mobile phones or bickering with their unfortunate company. You, meanwhile, are safely inside your headphones, inside the music; and the world, rather than loud, confrontational and full of drills on a Tuesday morning, is comfortably outside and distant.

Vondelpark is perfect for this because of the beat. The music itself is not particularly happy – it’s distorted, dark and at times trippy – but the 2-step beat exudes and encourages confidence. It has, as Vondelpark seems to have himself (http://www.viceland.com/music/2010/08/vondelpark-has-no-myspace-so-you-can-only-learn-about-him-here/ ), attitude.

It is important here, however, to say that Vondelpark is neither garage nor post-dubstep, genres to which he has been linked. His sound is in fact pleasantly flexible, moving between chilled out and energetic. ‘California Analog XXX’ is infused with guitar loops, an almost pop-like structure and a groaning, calibrated, inaudible vocal. He uses nice off-beat cymbals in the ‘chorus’, and gives an extended coda with phased samples and multi-layered guitar. ‘Jetlag Blue Version’ has murmurings of bass-heavy, bluesy early-90s pop-rock guitar, an even sweeter kick, looped backing vox and grubby basslines.

Without a myspace, and with limited soundcloud presence, Surrey’s Vondelpark is a bit of an enigma. There’s virtually nothing about him on the web bar the Vice Magazine interview above, and he seems relatively, um, reluctant to be written about or publicized. His sole release so far, Sauna EP, dropped in December, and is available on boomkat here: http://boomkat.com/downloads/361220-vondelpark-sauna-ep#.

Otherwise, enjoy this and patiently await further releases. 

At the end of last year Digitalism released a taster for their planned second album, ‘Blitz’. To my great disappointment, the track was a pretty average cut of bassy electro, a far cry from their instinctively inventive efforts of 2007.

It comes with pleasure, then, that I can write about 21-year old Berlin producer Thomalla, who has just released his debut 12’’ Gefilde on Krakatau Records. The three-track record is a myriad of thumping highs and smooth troughs, and is characterized by youthful intelligence.

You cannot help but be impressed by the sheer energy of the sound (the beat’s consistent incessance) and the way in which Thomalla is able to deftly manoeuvre between epic strings, funky techno beats, seemingly familiar chord progressions and house-like drops.

Below is an exclusive release from the label, and a link to the purchase page on Juno:

http://cn.juno.co.uk/search/?quick_search_records=m_physical&q=thomalla&x=0&y=0&qs=1&s_search_precision=any&s_search_type=all&s_genre_id=0000

If we are to judge the nascent electronica LP output of 2011 as indicative of the forthcoming year, then we may as well dub 2010 an annus partyus and 2011 an annus reflectivius. 2011 has so far given us James Blake, Banjo or Freakout, King of Limbs, Ravedeath, 1792 and now Nicolas Jaar’s Space is Only Noise. All of these albums have been sombre, ambient or spacious affairs, approaches suited for the slow and sunny Sunday morning, or the 5am night bus and stiffener glass of port. Partying, it appears, is last year’s adventure.

This clamour for reflection and space has been no more evident than in James Blake’s debut offering, and his novel approach to thoughtfulness and space (as well as blog and Beeb hype) has all-but thrust celebrity upon him. In a way, this has benefitted the twenty year-old Nicolas Jaar (Chilean-born, Brown University student) who has just released his debut record in Blake’s media-frenzied shadow.

There are, without doubt, certain comparisons to be made between the two. Jaar often uses the now familiar themes of space and silence, and employs gentle ephemeral textures (see Blake’s ‘Unluck’ and Jaar’s ‘Etre’). The New Yorker also employs the resonant pop and click, the slowed-down, distant feel, and the heavily-vocoded vocal, distorting his voice into its own emotion-laden instrument (‘Colomb’).

What Jaar does better than Blake, however, is to give the space and introspection some flexibility and vivid organic progression. Whereas Blake can sometimes get stuck within the constraints of his own (certainly creative) sound and vocoded meanderings, Jaar manages to break into an impressive variety of genres and influences without ever losing control of his artistic intent. Over the course of fifteen tracks, Jaar shifts from sampling Ray Charles (‘I Got A’) and exploiting soul (‘Variations’), to plying deep house (‘Keep Me There’) and Hecker-esque soundscapes (‘Balance Her In Between Your Eyes’).

Tim Hecker’s own new work Ravedeath, 1972, is as difficult to define as it is beautiful. The opening track, ‘The Piano Drop’, references the album art, where rowdy rogues are pushing a piano off a building. The piano, suspended perilously on the edge, is perhaps perfectly symbolic of the album’s sound: a sonic scape of nerves, kinetic energy, contours, crevasses and climax.

Ravedeath has been made around recordings of an organ in Reykjavik, and throughout the record you hear these ominous keys cut through the aural alabaster. On what seems a paradoxically tumultuous but smooth journey, ‘Hatred of Music I’ stands out as a clash of looped oscillation and curved noise. Similarly emotive is ‘Analog Paralysis’, a track of intense shape and careful distortion which could be the sonic definition of ‘significance’.

When you glance at the album art, as I have frequently done over the last week, it is possible to convince yourself (as I have done) that the building from which the piano is pushed is a lighthouse. On not-even-close inspection, the building is clearly not a lighthouse, and the setting is urban rather than coastal. Yet Ravedeath creates the impression that this must be something natural, climatic and climactic. It is icy, cold, desolate, and at certain times just desperate. But (and this is a big ‘but’), the iciness is a thing of beauty, and Ravedeath remains throughout a thrilling and accessible record.

You will, in fact, be hard-pushed to find a better record all year.

Bristol’s Julio Bashmore, veritable house producer signed to Martyn and Erosie’s 3024 label, is releasing the follow up to his pretty huge smash ‘Battle for Middle You’ on 28 March.

The three-track EP features the following track, Ribble to Amazone, which looks like it’s going to be an absolute corker of a deep house floorfiller. 

Frivolous. The Vancouver-born producer releases this week his third full-length on Cadenza Records. Resident Advisor has a nice backstory to the album’s inception, and Frivolous’ own website (a little old now, methinks) describes his sound as something like experi-jazz minimal.

On the first few listens, Meteorology is a rather bizarre mix of tech-house beats and cheery samples. Opener ‘Ostalgia’, for instance, trades building society advert jingle for broken mid-Western banjo, and layers it with echoing riffs and metallic screeches. Quite why this would infuse the people of the GDR with nostalgia is beyond me, but with this many influences and samples Frivolous is quite clearly a complicated producer. 

With tastes a little purer and more structured, I find Frivolous’ material a little too wacky, unsatisfyingly unpredictable. There is, however, one clear moment of brilliance where Frivolous does rein in his multitudinous instincts. On ‘Lunar Phaser’ he builds the beat steadily and eerily with clicks and pops of synths and more minimal techno beats, climaxing in a suitable and beautiful use of vocal, piano and guitar loop.

I once read an interview with Alesso Natalizia – Mr Banjo and Mr Freakout – where he came across an insular recluse. As one amongst the burgeoning bedroom-producer generation (not, I hasten to add, the one including Daniel Bedingfield), Banjo or Freakout made his music on his girlfriend’s Mac while she went to work. He played around on Garageband, drank juice, and refused to play live.

My impression of Banjo or Freakout changed entirely upon his side-project with Sam Willis from Allez-Allez – Walls. Walls’ eponymous debut dropped last year and was an absolutely fantastic record. Mixing simplistic techno rhythms of ‘Gaberdine’ with the more ambient classic ‘Burnt Sienna’, it provided a welcome contrast to the chillwave-heavy mainstream, and translated beautifully to their seldom live performances.

It came as something of a surprise, then, that Banjo or Freakout is releasing his own record less than a year later, and doing a mini tour in support of it (although in a support-slot capacity). I had heard nothing about it until seeing an advert for it on the hypemachine today, and he – in typically understated fashion – does not seem to have widely publicized it. Whereas Walls was released on the well-known Kompakt label, Natalizia’s LP is on the lesser known Memphis Industries and features album art framing the top of his head.

Banjo of Freakout’s sonic approach is most easily described as a ‘wash’, rather than a wall, of sound. As such, it is possible to treat the delayed loops, vertical soundscapes, chancel vocals and soft snare beats as an empty and transparent veneer, a mood which literally washes across but never penetrates your senses. Some of his work has indeed failed to spark into life, but, as evidenced by BoF’s climactic single ‘Upside Down’ of 2009, this ‘wash’ can not only be immensely effective, but extremely affecting.

After a rather disappointing year of LPs, long-awaited (Cut Copy) or potentially definitive (James Blake), it is therefore a joy to find that Banjo or Freakout’s new record is a delight. While he has not veered too far from the successful structures and serene atmospherics of ‘Upside Down’, there is a clear development in his songwriting; and, unlike other recent LPs, Banjo or Freakout finds the right balance between yearnful lyrics and vocal fx, and a signature sound and a determination to be expansive.

The melancholic vocals and 80s stomp of Walls-esque ‘Can’t Be Mad For Nothing’ land somewhere between Blink-182 and Kate Bush, and his defiant but frustrated love is aptly defined by the line: “You’re too good to make me feel shit”. On ‘From Everyone Above’ he concludes delicate guitar riffs with a stoic sequence of korg bass via imperial drums, and one senses that it could soundtrack a silent film about heroin addiction, replete with tragic ending. ‘Fully Enjoy’, meanwhile, is a mid-album space jam with delicate vocal loops and multi-layered guitar, which seems at once oriental and at other times Think Tank.

The album’s highest peaks illustrate how flexible a songwriter Banjo can be, despite his seemingly restrictive blueprint. Following opener and pre-release ‘105’, ‘Go Ahead’ begins like a Broken Social Scene track, distant horns set to bubbling arpeggios. But through a narrative vocal and muddy lead, the song bursts into two falsetto choruses and a laidback middle-eight on an album bereft of pop sensibilities. In complete contrast, closer ‘I Don’t Want To Start All Over Again’, sees Natalizia using delayed and looped organ notes and a simple but emotive refrain. In one fell swoop, he ethereally transcends the preceding nine songs, and makes his earlier work – ‘Upside Down’ apart – seem rough, hazy, and limited.

Should Natalizia have chosen to stick to formula, rough, hazy and limited are certainly words which could have characterized his debut record. Luckily, however, Natalizia seems to have taken Walls’ cue and made an entertaining and enterprising work which suggests that crashing at your girlfriend’s, drinking juice and messing with Garageband is in fact fantastic preparation for nurturing a highly original and dynamic musical sound. So: seek this album out on soundcloud now, and hopefully we can encourage the Banjo to play. 

Cut Copy’s last LP offering, In Ghost Colours, was undoubtedly one of my albums of 2008. It had an inimitable sound: a polished synth-tastic structure with soft but uplifting vocals. It struck the right balance between the incessant electro-pop (‘Lights and Music’) and the wispy and beautiful interlude (‘Voices in Quartz’), meaning that at 15 tracks the album did not feel overlong. And it possessed songs which effortlessly captured the mood of warm, sunny and romantic days, ‘Strangers in the Wind’ being the perfect example. I was, therefore, extremely excited about the prospect of the new Cut Copy record, Zonoscope.

First, it is important to say that this, their third studio album, absolutely nails the unmistakable Cut Copy ‘sound’. No other band or artist can mould five minutes pop songs from such simple beats and synth melodies, and Dan Whitford’s lead vocal retains that ability to sound both limited and flexible at the same time. From five or six listens it is clear that the band have resolved to make a signature and comprehensive pop record, which after the dynamism of IGC was a risky strategy.

To this critic, it is ultimately a strategy which fails to pay off. In writing a shorter album of longer tracks, the band has committed itself to ensuring that all of those longer tracks maintain the listener’s attention, but unfortunately many of the songs – especially in the second half – are simply not interesting enough. ‘Hanging Onto Every Heartbeat’ and ‘Alisa’ simply overdo the kitsch and get lost in swirls of phasers and longing vocal, while the irritatingly-titled ‘Strange Nostalgia for the Future’ (this is such a LAME oxymoronic joke: cf. Foals’ ‘Black Gold’) is awash with unnecessary harmonies and synths. It also fails, as the one shorter track, to adequately adjust the album’s sonic structure.

‘Need You Know’ is perhaps the only song on the whole album to rival the drive and drama of IGC’s highlights. It builds and builds and bubbles into life, shirking off echoes of 90s pop balladry to a rousing conclusion. But elsewhere, when not carving an almost Tim-nice-but-dim veneer, the band makes bizarre stylistic choices.

Ostensibly an act of the synth and pop-house beat, Cut Copy here delve into sixties/seventies rock and pop pastiche. On ‘Where I’m Going’ Whitford and co. mesh late Oasis, the most epic vagaries of the Who, and the Velvet Underground’s ‘Waiting for the Man’. As you can imagine, with added synth, this is not a good thing. Further, second track ‘Take Me Over’ has been noted by more than one reviewer as giving a ‘sly nod’ to Aussie legends Men At Work; I would say that it’s more a dirty clinch in a Melbourne alleyway. Which again descends into meaningless synth keys and drift.

You could, perhaps, interpret the album cover – picturing a skyline waterfall – and the album closer – the ludicrously long ‘Sun God’ – as representative of the album’s structural and sonic failures. They are indicative of an album which is simply too long and too much. There will be many who enjoy Zonoscope, especially as the warmer weather comes, but to me and many others there persists an unerring sense of disappointment. 

Afternoon all! On this bitterly drab day in London, where the damp rots the window pane and the sky casts a mournful tone of colour into the room, the Carton is relieved of desolation by three wondrous interjections of musical fare. 

The first is the prospect of two new Benoit and Sergio records, the most imminent of which is entitled “Where the Freaks Have No Name”. The Carton enjoys anything that makes a joke out of U2 (which is as easy as making a joke about Prince, Prince Harry, or the Fresh Prince) but this also has the added bonus of being an ace house track. The DC producers’ beat is of the type that makes your stomach go squiffy, while the woozy synths add to the seasickness. Add in some Tensnake-esque 80s phasers, and you have a pretty epic - if disorientating - jungular tune.

While the other two tracks are little more than vaguely interesting - “Day Residue” being de facto interesting due its complete and utter meandering wackness - B&S are also releasing another EP in late February called “Boy Trouble” on DFA.

“Boy Trouble” is quite a contrast to their previous work, and although Benoit is still moaning about girls - which B&S track wouldn’t? - it is a far more brazenly cheesy effort, with standard pop melodies and mentions of “Ferraris”. This namedrop fits perfectly with the structural nod to some wretched 2007-2008 period electro house, but it is perhaps saved by its charm and lo-fi production, and the Visionquest remix (Seth Troxler/Lee Curtiss/Ryan Crosson/Shaun Reeves’ new label) adds a much-needed darker and more reflective element.

The release is given substance by previous tracks “Full Grown Man” and “What I’ve Lost”. I am eighteen months late on the latter, and this is a realization which causes immense sadness. “WIL” is simply that perfect life-soundtrack: the glimpse of love; the sunrisen-trip home; the clear-skied midday wonder; the last song at the disco; the tear-inducer.

It is able to give that immediate sense of importance by setting a “Sky and Sand”-esque cowbell beat to a cigarette-drenched distorted bassline, and it takes two minutes for clear and almost-spoken vocal to land. When it does, it seems wistful and prosaic, even though Benoit mutters little more than drug-induced melancholy: “places where I’ve loved/places where I’ve lost/places where I had the answers once”. But for this song, that meaninglessness is perfect. Because after hearing this tune late - late - at night as you search for the girl’s hand and take your coat, you don’t quite know what’s next, and you don’t know whether things will be as perfect as this again. 

While barely anything could match “WIL”, “Full Grown Man” is nevertheless an alarmingly good tune. It rumbles along an 80s groove and evokes the decade’s cocaine and keyboard excesses. You can even sense a little Paul Simon in the vocal delivery and fx, which is a truly wonderful thing.

Bar news of this release, today has been a good day for two other reasons. Caribou has done an RA mix (http://www.residentadvisor.net/podcast-episode.aspx?id=246), which contains some “new ideas” under the name of ‘Daphni’. A quick browse has failed to elicit any downloadable/possible purchase material, but the second track on the mix, “Yes, I Know”, is absolutely stunning. A funk/soul sample, blaring horns and a thumping beat. If this ever makes general release, we’ll be dancing until 2026. 

Finally, Nicolas Jaar’s record is OUT OUT OUT. I’ll be reviewing it later in the week, alongside Cut Copy (which is much better than I first thought) and Tim Hecker’s ‘Ravedeath, 1972’ (which is just as good as I first thought). 

Stay tuned kids. WC x

And quickly, while you read my irresponsibly long Radiohead post, listen to this incredibly beautiful and dirtily romantic track on Valentine’s Day:

More on these guys tomorrow. But enjoy it today.

LOTS OF LOVE, WC x

Dear Wonky Readers,

2010 had its moments. It had Star Slinger’s Cocteau Twins rework. It had Foals’ ludicrously good “difficult” second album. It had Arcade Fire wilting in the pressure of mainstream affection (and now to be forever supported by Mumford & Sons and the repugnantly irritating Vaccines). It had Scuba’s rudimentary techno effort, and FlyLo’s frustratingly diverse Cosmog’. It had the rise of Walls, the generous lick of the Pantha, and the world-threatening domination of J-J-Joy Orbison and J-J-James Blake.

But, and let’s be honest, it was hardly a vintage year for music. It took me two hours to choose a top ten albums list, and I am still sure that in other years six or seven of them would have missed the cut. The aforementioned Arcade Fire was a HUGE disappointment, irrespective of the surprising mass acclaim it received from critics (Pitchfork’s hugely predictable jingoism apart). LCD Soundsystem’s record was just irritating. Janelle Monae? Robyn? Joanna Newsom? Further, big techno, house and tech-house artists snuck away in Europe somewhere, and drank their midnight port. But 2011, already, promises to be different.

Obviously, you can’t really tell in February how things are going to pan out over 12 months. We have small indicators, like the (disappointing) debut of James Blake, and the well-reviewed release of Cut Copy. We have high hopes for artists like Kenton Slash Demon, John Roberts and Benoit and Sergio. But from the big album name releases, we should be notionally more excited about 2011 than 2010. And, today of all days, after an oddly paradoxical underwhelming/pleasantly pleased reaction to the Strokes’ new single Underthecoverofdarkness, we have a date for the big name album of the year:

U2. After a long wait since their last brilliant and groundbreaking albu….

Only joking kids. This blog has pledged to give no more time to that rotting corpse of hammer-on top octave top-E-laden dad-rock than a horrendously misjudged internship application to the only NGO in the world which screams the names of its directors on the frontpage of its website; that being, Bono’s “One” charity.

No. Today, on the day of love, a band from Oxford once more grabbed the faces of music lovers around the world, looked deeply into their eyes, made references to Ovid and Burial, and placed a tenderly anticipative smacker on their lips. They held it, withdrew, and began to whisper: “The King of Limbs…”

http://www.thekingoflimbs.com/DIGBP.htm

After the wonderfully inventive and supposedly groundbreaking release of In Rainbows, Radiohead have come up with two options for your predilection: buy an absurdly filled and intricate double vinyl “newspaper” edition for delivery on 9 May with the MP3s by Saturday. Or buy the MP3 album now, and get the tracks on Saturday. For £6. 

Only Radiohead would give a week’s notice for their album. Only Radiohead would come up with a newspaper idea more ridiculous than Rupert Murdoch. And only Radiohead would leave me this trembling in anticipation of a new record. 

Saturday. Saturday. What do we do!?!!?!?!?

Here at CARTON HQ we have just finished playing a lengthy game of Scrabble. It was, as usual, characterized by the formation of words unbeknown before the game, words that are ne’er used in any vernacular, and words suspected of being total and facetious fabrications. Like ‘Qat’.

The variance between what one expects and what one finds is a concept resonant with the new release from UK dubstep artist Old Apparatus. The Old Apparatus, by which we shall now affectionately know him, is a virtual unknown. His website, www.oldapparatus.org, is bizarrely adorned with imperial Victorian dress, and he has chosen to release his debut double-A on vinyl only. For a man of such tastes, the tracks are somewhat underwhelmingly entitled, “Untitled”.

As we know nothing about him (bar the fondness for imperial Victorian photography) and that he is releasing on the Deep Medi Musik label - known for more straightforward, squelch-squelch, phaser-y dubstep and the distributor of complete whack like Goth Trad - we would expect pretty straightforward shit, right? Right!?

Well, no! Old Apparatus is in fact an exciting prospect, despite that Victorian stuff… He’s experimental, and he not only loves ambience but noise. And buzzing, tinkles, stones on water. Deep house noises with heavy beats. Sounds that make you think someone’s in your house, clearing your mate’s room and stealing his xBox360, wire by wire by wire.

You can download his promo mix ”OA-001” for free from his website. It’s a rather sick piece of work due to the variety of sounds he goes for and the number he manages to make work. Some of the sounds are perhaps a little too predictable, too dub-cliched, but there is so much promise in this mix for a clearly young, fresh and ambitious producer. 

Keep your eye out. Imperial Victorian photography, en vogue…

Although I recognize how much reading helps your prose, forms your personality, and sharpens your emotions, I don’t read many books. 

I avoid reading because once I pass pg.100 I am completely caught up until the last page has been turned. I will read a book in days, even if I am busy. Every spare minute is absorbed in the text, the pages become my food and drink. The characters become my friends, my enemies, or just irritatingly boorish. My own experiences are relativised to fiction, placed within the context of invented experiences, notions, passions, feelings, loss. Despair.

And this last emotion has never been more brutally exacted by a book than today. For earlier today I finished ‘One Day by Dave Nicholls, the author of “Starter for Ten”. And four hours later I still feel sick.

In ‘One Day’, a novel which veers from boggy and lazy and average to brilliantly hopeful and inspirational and charming in the space of paragraphs, there was toward the end a moment of such force that I could not hide my emotions. I choked on my falafel wrap at lunch, and then choked down the lump in my throat. I stuttered in the office, readjusted my tie. I hid the tears on the bus home, winced under the street lamps and managed to whisper “hello” to my family.

And I still had twenty pages to go.

In my room, under the coarse light of my pink 80s lamp, I finished the last page, put the book down, and began to think of life without Em and Dex. The 0723 bus, without Em and Dex. The 1316 sandwich, without Em and Dex. The 1655 bus - four minutes late - without Em and Dex. The tired eyes before bed, without….

I guess the novel, in its inconsistent nature, is a bit like a Broken Social Scene record, Modeselektor’s “Happy Birthday”, or perhaps even Coldplay in general. It has the middle of the road feel, the easy route, the love/hate characters, but above all the mix of the rudimentary average and suddenly epic emotion and beauty. And if you denied yourself its presence for too long, you would miss it like hell. And that’s the immediate emotion of now. 

To lighten the mood, I thought I’d listen to the surprisingly aggressive new track and video from NY’s FaltyDL, giving us a sweetener for his album release on 14 March. It’s stuttering beat, odd timbres and unnerving atmospherics are delivered in a breathless 1:40, and as it is so short, it works even better. 

Buy “One Day”; and then listen to this:

I have an unreasonable music crush on Seth Troxler. Back in 2009, I heard his dark minimal collaboration with Matthew Dear, ‘Hurt’. It was incredible. It had one of those beats which you always wish you could replicate. Thumping. Simple. Dark. It had a chilling, mendacious vocal, pumped through the antithesis of a Britney vocoder. Like a kid’s nightmare. And then, after all of this, there was a sweet piano riff. Tinkling. It would ram itself in your head. You could even dance to it. It led you like a piano-piper.

Ever since this release, I have closely monitored Troxler’s work, saluting him as a genius. His tune with Tiefschwarz, Trust, was pretty ace, and his Boogybytes comp was sweet. But nothing has ever matched that painful brilliance.

Until now, perhaps. Troxler features on ‘Souless Dreamer’, a track to feature on Lyon producer Agoria’s new record. For years Agoria has infused Detroit Techno with soft J-J-Jazz, and this tune with Troxler is a slow-building stormer. It’s soft and understated; it builds tenderly, with eloquent minimal melodies; the vocal is wistful and breathless; and the effect, the effect…is wonderful.

###

Otherwise, there is the new record from XI. I am not sure whether this is “eleven”, or “ex-aye”. But when it’s this good, who gives a shit. RA speculated that this sound could be termed ‘space garage’, for it sure doesn’t suffice to term this ‘bass’ music. Rather than ‘future garage’ - as it’s known as below - I would describe the sound as Hudson Mohawke stumbling into a tardis, sashaying back to the Swingin’ Sixties and making a post-revisionist electro record. At once it’s a total mess and totally structured. The beat is huge. And it has the sexiest sax. 

Well it’s Saturday morning, and I don’t think there’s anything better to blow the cobwebs away than this new track from Vessels. Most post-rock fans will be wetting themselves with excitement as the new album from Mogwai is less than a couple of weeks away (and rightfully so), but personally I’m equally as excited as the second album from the Leeds quintet, which is set for release in March.

Their debut album ‘White Fields and Open Devices’ was a masterclass in making post-rock interesting - their inventive use of dynamics and incredible musical abilities keeping the listener on their toes throughout. And having heard new song ‘The Trap’ I’m under the impression that ‘Helioscope’ is not going to disappoint. And like Mogwai, they know how to riff.

I was going to simply post the Soundcloud track, but I’ve since discovered they filmed a live version of it, so click below and prepare to be blown away. Tour dates below.

February:

Sun 20th         The Duchess, York - tickets

Mon 21st        The Captain’s Rest, Glasgow - tickets

Tues 22nd      The Lemon Tree, Aberdeen - tickets

Wed 23rd       Hustlers, Dundee - info

Thurs 24th     Speakeasy, Belfast (FREE SHOW) - info

Fri 25th         Workman’s Club, Dublin - info

Sat 26th         The Quad, Cork (FREE SHOW) - info

Mon 28th         The Harley, Sheffield - tickets

March:

Tues 1st          Academy 3, Manchester - tickets

Wed 2nd          Borderline. London - tickets

Thurs 3rd        Jam. Brighton - tickets

Friday 4th        The Haymakers, Cambridge - tickets

Sat 5th            The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds

This fortnight has seen the return of two established and ostensibly kooky indie bands: the Kills; and Peter, Bjorn and John. 

Although they must be the only band in the world more famous for the girlfriend of the guitarist and how effetely they hold their cigarettes, the Kills are a far more complex band than their drum machine beats suggest. Their last album, Midnight Boom, was both better than No Wow and steadily hit and miss, but when it hit - like Cheap and Cheerful, Tape Song, Last Day of Magic - it was hard, dirty rock n roll. Not only could you see Jamie Hince wincing as he picked his way through lazy-cum-spiky riffs, but picture Alison Mosshart lurching from one side of the studio to the other, screaming from between her matted hair and having sex with the mic stand.

This new effort, entitled ‘Satellite’, seems to begin with reggae-rock recalling the Clash and meanders along with the same intent. New record is out 7 April on Domino.

Peter, Bjorn and John, meanwhile, are famous for something far less sexy than Kate Moss: a whistling melody line, which has become just a little bit irritating. If you like watching adverts for Vauxhall Vectras or taxpayer-bailed-out banks, then you’ve probably heard that tune before. Or their other remotely recognized track, the spine-chillingly poignant ‘Amsterdam’.

Their new record ‘Second Chance’, however, is brilliant. But not in a whistling-type way. This one has vocal harmonies! No, in all seriousness, ‘Second Chance’ is a fantastic tune. It hammers on, the guitars fight, and there is a sweet solo towards the end. You can hear strains of the eighties - but completely uncontextualized - as well as Thin Lizzy-esque riffs throughout. The vocals are whispy, pleading, resolute but desperate. Bodes well, boys; bodes well.    

Were an NBA commentator to comment upon the line-up for this years Bloc, he would probably term it “absolutely ridunkulous”. Or make some masturbation comment about Sarah Palin. Anyway, either way, he would definitely proclaim that it’s awesome, exciting, progressive, and damn circus ugly.

The event, 11-13 March, is now sold out, but with perhaps a few re-release tickets available it’s well worth taking a punt on what is a beyond-messy lineup (http://www.blocweekend.com/lineup/). Although I don’t give much for the heavy dubstep noises of Magnetic Man, or the weird experi-techno demonics of Aphex Twin, you can see Apparat, Joy Orbison (very high on the bill, one notes), Ramadanman, Ben Klock, Floating Points, Luke Abbott, Four Tet, dop, Shackleton and SBTRKT. I swear I saw Seth Troxler on the bill somewhere too, but he seems to have disappeared…

So, if you are willing to sacrifice personal vanity, sleep on mattresses and hit its venue of Butlins, you are sure to get one large, 1980s log-flume-sized treat. Here’s a sick promo-mix from Jacques Greene:

Dial Records’ John Roberts, esteemed deep house DJ, is making his UK debut at Shoreditch’s XOYO club on 18 February. 

For me, Roberts’ distinctive sound is uniting heavy (and occasionally tinny) beats with beautiful chimes and ethereal tones. The / ethereality / may remind you of labelmate Pantha du Prince, but whereas Pantha often soothes and trips out with his sounds, Roberts is keener on making you dance.

He is due to play alongside Demdike Stare and Raime at XOYO, so get down if you can. Booking early is £7.50…