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Albums
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APPLICATION System Fork Dust Science
The opulent crimson of the cover and the elaborate title hints at it, and within the opening two minutes of opener On This Morning it’s clear: barely 12 months after his rapturously-received debut A Brief Introduction to Unnatural Lightyears, Oliver Wilde has taken the kitchen sink approach to confronting second album expectation. For music which seems so subtle, there’s a huge amount going on here. Pining strings bleed into signature tin-pot percussion and forgotten guitars with a touch of subaqueous gargle, then Wilde’s compressed vocal hum, with even a suggestion of softly plucked banjo. There’s a definite full-band effect to the smothering riff at the song’s core, but still; it’s as if the entire effect is emanating from the man himself, as if he opens his mouth and this sound emerges, fully formed. The spectre of lo-fi lingers, but it’s in an approach to sound, rather than a sonic effect. And so it goes. There’s no doubt the process has opened up compared to Wilde’s previous release; that there is a sense of a group of musicians here. But there’s still an understated cult of personality at play. Oliver Wilde is the key, the music is him. From St Elmo’s Fire’s addictive, melting progression through the claustrophobic poetry of Plume; the skywardsclambering scuzz of Play & Be Saved, the oddball squelch of Night In Time Lapse and the absurdly gorgeous, crepuscular churn of closer Vessel, he remains the central pivot, the point of solidity, the creative zenith. While there may not be a standout, instant downer-classic here to place alongside miraculous debut album cut Perrett’s Brook (the closest is probably the gleefully crackling Stomach Full Of Cats), the glacial timbral shifts, prominent lust for experimentation, and paradoxically intimate/ultimate humanity of these songs mark it as a considerable step forward for the artist at its helm. If A Brief Introduction... unveiled it, then Red Tide Opal... serves to confirm it. Oliver Wilde is the kind of talent that comes along very rarely; the type which should be cherished and encouraged at every muffled step.
System Fork is the first album by Application. Application is Martin and Richard Dust, and they make up two thirds of Sheffield based electronic legends The Black Dog. System Fork is built from a palette of pure electronic tones and recorded with almost clinical precision, but despite this Application have managed to make an emotionally resonant and human album. The tracks are based on tight repetitive rhythmic patterns that feel close to breakbeats, with a wealth of hits, zaps and pads moving around that central core. While The Black Dog is a name that has thrived on the live elements of electronic music, forging a career as DJs, live performers and producers of dancefloor tool techno, Application’s work is anything but spontaneous. System Fork is the result of a manifesto, inspired by the Japanese principle of Itamae, that took two years to develop. Under these principles students are obliged to watch their masters at work for years before they are even allowed to pick up their tools. So it seems Application have been watching their masters carefully, and are now taking their turn to pay homage. The highly digital fusion of clicks, thumps and noise throughout System Fork would fit perfectly into the Raster-Noton catalogue and, at times, one is rather forcibly reminded of Autechre; even the sleeve gives a nod to the image of pure digital abstraction these artists have popularised. The digital scree across the black background of the sleeve fits the stark tone of the record perfectly. And although not groundbreaking, Application have delivered a carefully produced collection of tracks that are as danceable as they are listenable.
! Rich Bitt
! Thomas Painter
THE ANTLERS Familiars Anti -/Transgressive
ALEXIS TAYLOR Await Barbarians Domino Errm, right, OK. So Alexis Taylor’s had a bad dream and has made an album where he thinks he’s a Laurel Canyon confessional troubadour. On his second solo LP, he continues to move further away from the irresistible beat-driven pop of Hot Chip, instead trudging a deeply personal, slightly-but-not-really experimental road. A collection of piano-ballads with varying degrees of success, Await Barbarians is a bold move – sadly though, it’s one that hasn’t paid off. The majority of the tracks go round in circles, feeling like a verse repeated over and over and, although the production and arrangements are interesting, there is too much emphasis on fucking around with things for the sake of fucking around with them. On one track, New Hours, it sounds like he’s blowing a milk bottle or some shit. Badly. Saying that though, the duo of songs entitled Without A Crutch are beautiful, perfectly constructed ballads, the lyrics a dark lament on a relationship, bolstered by a fragile melody and vocal performance. However, the fact that Without A Crutch essentially appears twice speaks volumes; the vast majority of the tracks go nowhere, especially the lead single Elvis Has Left The Building, where the perfectly adequate lyrics are let down again by a fruitless and frustrating wait for a chorus. This is a long, long way from the After The Gold Rush it wants to be.
Tom Krell’s encyclopedic RnB and pop influence list had to be beckoned out on 2012’s Total Loss. Sometimes a Bobby Brown-style vocal lick or an Aaliyah-esque ad lib would only break through the noise if you really went looking out for it. But for much of What Is This Heart? that delicacy gets toppled by a far more unsheltered guide through Krell’s record collection. Be it the mid-song vocal breakdown on Words I Don’t Remember, or the hymnal opening to Pour Cyril which sounds like a less sleazy version of Like A Prayer, the linchpin of this record is melody and vocal trickery. While the album’s closer plays host to a paradisal beat, it is little more than a costume for Krell’s falsetto acrobatics, all of which makes for a stirring finale. Having thematically dissected the nature of loss two years ago, Krell continues his voyage into the intricacies of heartbreak and the puzzling details of despondency. What Is This Heart? may be glossier than its predecessor, but it’s no less human. And by channelling the sheen of The Supremes with the candidness of Kendrick Lamar or Sun Kil Moon, How To Dress Well continues to flourish by staying true to what he knows and even truer to how he feels.
It’s been a full three years since the last album proper from The Antlers, and 2011’s Burst Apart was something of a high watermark in a career that’s never dipped far below the pool’s edges, yet never quite flooded the stands either. Over five albums lead singer Peter Silberman has managed to subtly reinterpret the band’s sound, changing just enough with each new release to pique returning interest while pandering to a fanbase that wants nothing more than to wallow in a bath of its own tears. That methodology is clearly at play on this latest effort, although album opener Palace reaches a level of drippiness that would make even Snow Patrol’s taps blush. More so than ever before, Familiars employs a horn section to evoke a sense of rousing melancholy in its compositions, much in the same way artists like Beirut or Patrick Watson have done in the past. There’s an impressive depth to the instrumentation on offer, with flurries of piano, currents of sitar, and interjections of string on hand to remind you just how dense each recording really is. Familiars does a very good job of wrapping you in that same slightly self-indulgent comfort blanket worn so well by the band; a little like falling asleep on a bed of candy floss – sweet, but without real definition. Make no mistake, in the haunting coos of Doppelganger or Intruders there’s plenty to lose yourself in, just don’t expect to find yourself anywhere new on the other side.
! Jon Clark
! Duncan Harrison
! Alex Gwilliam
HOW TO DRESS WELL What Is This Heart? Weird World / Domino
OLIVER WILDE Red Tide Opal in The Loose End Womb Howling Owl