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VARIOUS ARTISTS Bleep:10 Bleep It’s always a bit disconcerting when a record’s very first track turns out to be its best. And here, on Bleep’s 10-year anniversary compilation, that’s exactly what’s happened. Opening with the heavy and hypnotic Die Wand by Wolfgang Voigt’s revered GAS project, its oppressive rhythm punctuated by operatic strings straight out of the Peter & The Wolf score (but not really), you feel it admirably carrying the weight of expectation that precedes this compilation. But as the track fades away and we are thrown headlong into the aggressively euphoric sound of Lone’s Lizard King, it becomes apparent that this is an overtly broad record. And while within the disc most people will almost certainly find something to enjoy, many will struggle to appreciate it as a whole. Personal favourites include Untold’s visceral and terrifying That Horn Track (you can imagine this being blasted out of a helicopter in a twisted update of Apocalypse Now), and the usual polyrhythmic excellence from Shackleton in the form of Ganda Rising, plus special mention must also go to Modeselektor, whose contribution starts off as a completely unnecessary throwback to ‘06 electro but in the last two minutes transforms into a bizarre bleep-Spastik-horrorshow hybrid. Unfortunately, other moments on this 14 track compilation either sound like they are trying too hard or not trying at all. Multifariousness is clearly Bleep’s remit, and one that across a superb 10-year run has made complete sense. But trying to represent such a varied and inspired discography with 14 brand new tracks proves patchy, and ultimately unsuccessful.
The transition from actor to musician is fraught with difficulties; for every Kylie Minogue, there’s a handful of Holly Valances. So often they aim to dine at pop’s luxurious table but end up hidden out back, in the alley, begging for scraps. That Matt Berry is better known for his role as Douglas Reynholm in The IT Crowd and the person behind Channel 4 sitcom Toast of London is largely irrelevant – with this record he isn’t striving to join this line, but rather carve out another piece of his peculiar puzzle. Berry’s previous musical endeavours have included the Snuff Box soundtrack and music for the Steve Coogan comedy Saxondale, while the last of his four previous albums Kill The Wolf was folk prog leaning. Now Music For Insomniacs sees him turn in a whole different direction and firmly embrace synth based musical experimentalism. Born out of a period of sleep deprivation, it’s a record that encapsulates two long form musical pieces that can be broken into several distinct sections, with the rich overhanging influence of electronic pioneers Mike Oldfield and Jean-Michel Jarre at their core. And it’s an admirable attempt. Music For Insomniacs may not be for all, but it’s no laughing matter either.
From the first shuffling beats and interweaving synths it’s obvious that Zoetrope – the debut album by Working for A Nuclear Free City songwriter Phil Kay – is going to be more than a simple saunter through well tread electronica territory. Sounding something like a less hyperactive Dan Deacon, or Caribou with the playfulness lever fully deployed, King of the Mountains squashes 10 effervescent and luxurious tracks into less than 35 minutes. The sloping Animal Attractions is pure Slugabed territory, lolloping along like a sedated beast prowling the urban jungle, while title track is a Gold Pandaesque shimmy through pensive, melodic house. ELA has a more reflective, subtler feel – something like Dam Mantle’s gentle undulating rhythms. If there’s a criticism of Kay’s debut solo effort at all, it’s simply that it could have pushed a bit further, at times feeling more like a collection of almost finished ideas than a coherent album. Still, precious few artists have the ability to distill something so organic sounding from their gadgets and machines. And despite the fleeting quality of some of the material, this is a beautifully crafted electronic ephemera.
Max Graef probably hates people talking about his age. And comparing him to Motor City Drum Ensemble: he was 19 when first picked up by Melbourne Deepcast a little under a year ago, is German, and makes samply, dusty deep house and hip-hop. The release notes for his debut album ask the listener to enjoy with a ‘good bottle of red’. Frankly, it’s all a bit Oye Records, we know. But on the basis of this album, Graef does seem like someone who'd be able to recommend a good bottle of red, give a brief history of its origins and casually drop in the fact he’s been a vintner since he was six. Born and raised in Prenzlauer Berg, Graef has carved out a space for himself in the MCDE/Andre Lodemann spectrum of critic-friendly deep house. But on Rivers of the Red Planet, label Tartelet have given him space. While we already knew about his prodigious talent for house music production, so self-evident on his releases for selfrun Box aus Holz, here Graef has been allowed to experiment and create contemporary house/hip-hop montages based on some seriously esoteric jazz and early electronic music. (Good luck sample spotting.) Rivers… is structured in a comfortingly familiar way – ease-in, peak around the middle, gentle ease-off towards the end – but feels welltailored to a home listen. The intro is an exposition in Graef’s production style: dusty samples, analogue synths, all manner of 60s era sci-fi bleeps. We’re then straight into Itzehoe, which maintains some of the sci-fi snippets of the intro, but slaps up a driving 4/4 beat. Superswiss is the first of several hip-hop interludes, and while pleasant enough, adds relatively little to the album as a whole. Running demonstrates Graef’s aptitude for woozy slo jams with shades of Eglo Records, and Vino Rosetto is a track that uniquely combines the bleepy-ness of Mort Ganson with the rhythms of DJ Koze. This is an extremely impressive debut from a young artist who’s clearly listened to a hell of a lot of music. The shorter hip-hop interludes are fairly skippable after a few listens, but these misgivings aside, Graef looks set for a promising career in entertaining audiences both in Oye and out.
A messenger dismounts a camel and rudely disturbs the grape feeding in our Saharan desert branch office/oasis/disco. A CD tucked into his turban reflects a sunbeam and he looks at us seriously before carefully popping it in the hi-fi. Prins Thomas is a bit on the catch-up job following Todd Terje and Lindstrøm’s erupting contributions to the disco revival over the past few years, although they’re all still Scandinavian space disco buddies at heart. III marks a footprint away from the crisp disco of Thomas’s counterparts and another step toward the Krautrock inclinations of his previous efforts. It cycles more softly, and sounds more organic in its gradual progressions. The delay-laden flow is given a stimulating new dimension as phasing Arabian Nights-esque solos carry it along. All the while, Prins Thomas acts the hypnotist. BPM limit is 120, and the producer has moved to now be the master of his computer, rather than working around its flaws. By avoiding a theme and succumbing to his own fancy, III is genuinely unified, maybe because each track shares a sense common how he felt at the time of writing – a diary entry never professes great insight but still might hold it. This is subtle yet engaging, utterly immersive. It’s very rare that a record manages to simultaneously lull you whilst maintaining your focus so carefully. And this is a rare album.
! Steven Dores
! Nathan Westley
! Adam Corner
! Robert Bates
! Henry Thomas
PRINS THOMAS III Full Pupp MATT BERRY Music For Insomniacs Acid Jazz
KING OF THE MOUNTAINS Zoetrope Melodic MAX GRAEF Rivers Of The Red Planet Tartelet