ON T HE RE C ORD SINGL ES BY TIM FINNEY
NAS & DAMIAN MARLEY
FAITHLESS
PENDULUM
Distant Relatives
The Dance
Immersion
(Universal)
(Nates Tunes/Liberator)
(Warner Music)
RIP NICHOLSON
TRENTEMØLLER Sycamore Feeling (In My Room/Stomp) I remember being a bit dubious about the post-rocky electronica on the first Trentemøller album, coming as it did off the back of some of the finest slices of mid-00s electro-house-into-minimal hyper-insectile anthemism (‘Physical Fraction’! The Röyksopp remix!), but several years on it hardly seems like it matters anymore. And the sturm und drang Lynch/Badalamenti creep and drawl and slither and drone of ‘Sycamore Feeling’ really is incredibly pretty and lush and foreboding, rather like old Australian band The Paradise Motel really (complete with sleepy methadone female vox), only with a vaguely ridiculous number of ideas per track. Trentemoller’s own remix isn’t really a dance effort, but a “mood music” combination of ringing guitar and echoey post-punk snares. For actual techno, like, head for the depressive and involved but not terribly memorable Gui Boratto and Thomas Schumacher remixes.
P-MONEY FEAT DAVID DALLAS & AARADHNA Say Yeah (Central Station/Universal) Was not expecting NZ rap producer P-Money to bust out a piece of shiny house-pop, but that’s precisely the sound ‘Say Yeah’ goes for, give or take an R&B vocal and the intermittent (and dubious) rapping. Gorgeously delicate synth zaps and fluttering percussion and just a general vibe of light airiness set this apart, its syncopated soulfulness reminding me more of the UK Funky scene than anything else (though it’s a loose resemblance). The rap almost kills this with its combination of rudimental rhyming and attentionseeking referencing (“I’m thinking this is re-al/like Brad Pitt, Angelina, Timberlake and Bi-el”), but the sweet female vocals and the pillows of synth chords drag it back from the brink. The DCUP Remix is slightly derivative but fun early 80s electro-disco (think SOS Band or early Madonna). After that the remixes get increasingly clubby, stomping on the original’s spirit somewhat.
MARINA & THE DIAMONDS Hollywood (Warner) At first blush something about Marina really irritates me: is it that oh-so-2010 combination of Kate Nash-ish ostentatious British accent with throaty alto wail, or the way she tries to overdo the intensity by puffing up a rather slight tune (actually marginally worse than that recent Nash single in this regard) with such pomp and ceremony, or the very unsubtle “irony” of the lyrics (“I’m obsessed with the mess that’s America” – wow, how layered of you Marina)? But you know the thing about all these annoying new-fangled female pop stars is that they seem to be most awful in the beginning and then gradually grow on you, so while the self-satisfied smirking melodrama of ‘Hollywood’ makes me want to rip off my ears I haven’t ruled out the possibility that I might end up liking Marina. Perhaps it would help if she owned up to being the new Transvision Vamp rather than some great artiste.
LUCID The Calling (Scattermusic) I must admit to always being a bit leery of techno tracks with generically menacing names like ‘The Calling’ – it always seems to mean a rather grim time to be had by all. In fact Lucid seem to trade in a kind of mindlessly muscular sound somewhere between late 90s Euro techno and, um, late 90s hard house – up to and including the vocal samples vaguely redolent of hip hop. It’s all very late 90s really. And while it’s enthusiastic rather than grim, this kind of drum-roll festooned, squealing thumper always used to go over my head somewhat at raves and nothing has really changed in ten-plus years. Much better is b-side ‘Run It’, whose syncopated stuttery pseudo-Caribbean rhythms and cut-up vocal samples, while peddling the same basic sound, reveal just how much of a debt recent club hits like ‘Pon De Floor’ and ‘Riverside’ owe to this sound.
10 Zebra Magazine
The homage both Nas and Damian Marley pay to Africa and its bloody history is laid out through this season’s highly anticipated Distant Relatives. The cross-genre pollination of ragga and rap blossoms beautifully here as a rapper with arguably the single-most defining hip hop album of all-time and the youngest of Bob Marley’s dynasty musically cultivate a new herbal strand of riddim and rhyme. ‘As We Enter’ billows through in true ragga style with Marley toasting while God’s Son bounces effortlessly between the smoked-out beats laid before most tracks here – the majority of which were produced by Marley himself. ‘Strong Will Continue’ works well when turned up. Recorded over a progressive hip hop beat comfortable for Nas and behind a live band, it is pitted against Marley’s vocals, marking the contrast between rapper and singer. However, Marley attempts to get his own back on ‘Disappear’, a rustic raggamuffin throwback as he steps back boldly to the yard party and belts out full strength bars in raspy protest while Nas is found having to calibrate his delivery to the riddim. The rich presence of Joss Stone and Lil Wayne on ‘My Generation’ alleviates the album from a darkening of clouded subjects, as does the shining ‘Count Your Blessings’ which displays a hypnotic rhythm rapped and rasped over, while last toke ‘Africa Must Wake Up’ sees Marley drowning in sorrow over whining guitar chords as both MCs harp on situations right now over in Africa. The two year effort allows both individuals to play out their talents while finding middle ground on Distant Relatives. Nas seeks the origins of culture always in his work and reaches out to Marley who toasts his flow one step closer to bridging a new strand of blazed hip hop. This could become classic.
KRIS SWALES
KRIS SWALES
On first glance all the signs are there that the sixth Faithless studio album The Dance is going to be the return to form fans have so desperately hoped for after its limp 2006 predecessor To All New Arrivals failed to fire – from the title to the ecstatic semi-clad dancers on the cover to the way album opener ‘Not Going Home’ leaps straight into a 4/4 house groove from the outset, it all screams Statement Of Intent. And when Sister Bliss reveals that she’s rediscovered her Ultimate Rave Riff 101 synth preset at the two minute mark of the opener, visually-impaired ravers the world over will reach for the heavens in the hope they’ll soon be able to see again. But the payoff never quite arrives, and therein lies the problem with The Dance. Faithless have here delivered an unashamedly bombastic collection of stadium dance stormers that fall just short of the euphoric heights they’re aiming for – at least on record. Dancefloors the world over will erupt when the hands-in-the-air breakdown of ‘Tweak Your Nipple’ and sliding synth hook of the Dido-fronted ‘Feelin Good’ get served up in the live arena, but these efforts pale in comparison to the ubiquitous bombs of yesteryear. More successful is the jocular house romp ‘Feel Me’ (sampling 1980s British new wavers Blancmange’s track of the same name), while the languid reggae of ‘Crazy Bal’heads’ sees Maxi Jazz trade rhymes on the state of the world with Jonny ‘Itch’ Fox and Francis Jobe. But Faithless know where the bread is buttered and save the best for last, closer ‘Sun To Me’ containing all of the elements that have made them one of electronic music’s few true headline acts – and one whose tour on the back of The Dance will no doubt be a sight to behold.
While from the moment In Silico screamed its way to life long-time Pendulum fans and drum’n’bass purists alike were looking for an escape hatch, Immersion makes its intensions clear when the proto-classical march of opener ‘Genesis’ merges with its ‘Slam’-esque successor ‘Salt In The Wounds’ and slaps the foot on the accelerator. Yep, Pendulum are back in clubland kids, and the Perth expats are now so important their third record requires its own intro music just to ram the point home. If you’re willing to leave all chinstroking cynicism aside (Does Rob Swire only have one synth lead patch? Can we get an Amen break?), there is much to like about Immersion – Swire, Gareth McGrillen and their band cohorts (most notably revered skinsman newcomer KJ Sawka) have their particular brand of melodic, metalflavoured d’n’b mayhem perfected right down to the last 20hz bassline, but they’re not afraid to throw some ideas at the wall to see what sticks either. Take Exhibit A ‘The Island’, a two-parter flexing a 4/4 electro stomp, sidechained bass undercurrent, big synth lead, hook-heavy vocal and a touch of fidget which comes off like some sort of bastard lovechild of MGMT’s ‘Kids’ and Deadmau5 and Kaskade’s ‘I Remember’ – albeit a decent one. Then there’s ‘Self Vs Self’ featuring Swedish death metallers In Flames, which smashes out of nowhere towards the tail-end with dual guitar leads, blastbeats from Sawka, and Swire trading vocal counterpoint with Anders Friden’s screamo raw. Liam Howlett even teams up with his anointed successors to lend a touch of industrial rave to ‘Immunize’, before Swire’s signature synth patch pokes its nose through again. Because this is a Pendulum record after all – and while they’re not quite an important band yet, on the back of Immersion they’re destined to be a fucking huge one.
SPIT SYNDICATE
CARIBOU
GIFT OF GAB
Exile
Swim
Escape To Mars
(Obese)
(City Slang/Shock)
(Quannum/Other Tongues)
RIP NICHOLSON
Remembering their minted debut album and how well the young duo were received, a maturity is felt in the title track with a laidback delivery from two lads in full swagger of good fuckin’ hip hop. This is the return of Spit Syndicate and their follow-up Exile – an LP that fronts as a passport for Jimmy Nice and Nick Lupi, well-travelled and heavily stamped. The production is immaculately clean, fresh and still sporting tags by Horrorshow’s Adit, Cam Bluff, Jsquared and super producer M-Phazes, who collectively poured into this body of work with such even flow from every beat to every rhyme. Feathers fly on ‘Disruption’ and ‘Showtime’, featuring Solo pulling in half the verses about a typical night out with the New South kids as they push out several energising hits to invoke that great live spasm, before easing back introspectively for ‘Table For Two’ and ‘Pretty Girls Make Graves’. These bring some thought-provoking rhymes over upbeat flows from Adit and Cam Bluff respectively as Nice and Lupi roll their sleeves up and go in on relationships. And in the same vein the Syndicate give it up to those they looked up to on ‘Kings Only’, declaring “This is a testament to the legends that set us right/Your footsteps are forever, true kings never die”. Sharing their bird’s eye view, Spit boys drop in with Sarah Corry dancing circles melodically in the sky over every beat on ‘Can’t Go Home’, while Solo spits bars over ‘Contour Lines’. Exile disengages after the cinematic closer, ‘Endgame’ and shows right where they are right now – ascending heights so few have enjoyed so quickly.
MATT O’NEILL
A warmly confounding album, Swim simultaneously represents Dan Snaith’s least accessible and most intriguing release as an artist. The Canadian producer’s third album under his Caribou moniker, Swim was constructed with the intention of creating a fluid variety of dance music – Snaith deliberately eschewing the compact structure and precise composition of standard production in favour of off-kilter beats, warm synths and leftfield sonic flourishes. The resulting album, unsurprisingly, proves somewhat difficult to comprehend. On one level, Swim is an absolutely delightful record. If nothing else, Snaith has again succeeded in creating a wondrous and fantastical world for listeners to explore with hazy house anthems like ‘Sun’ and understated disco-pop gems like opener ‘Odessa’ but, from another perspective, Swim is something of a non-event. Snaith’s fluid dance music isn’t actually all that removed from standard dance music and one gets the definite sense that the Canadian iconoclast isn’t tremendously familiar with the form he is attempting to subvert. If Alex Paterson took more influence from his krautrock forebears, The Orb could easily have released Swim in the early 90s. This is the album’s most defining experience. Swim is most definitely enjoyable but, in many ways, it feels quite underwhelming. ‘Bowls’ is a prime example – a deeply engaging production alive with deep bass swells, cycling percussive loops and fluid synthesiser melodies, the piece’s chief chord progression nevertheless feels like it was ripped from a Dr Alban B-side. The real kicker is that while one cannot help but feel somewhat let down by Snaith, Swim will still probably prove to be one of the most beloved albums of 2010.
RIP NICHOLSON
Blackalicious efforts in the past are not unlike Gift of Gab’s latest drop, a funked-out soul ride bumping over evened hip hop beats on Escape 2 Mars. The musical outlay of this LP has been paralleled to that of Blazing Arrow and Nia, with one of the most heralded West coast rhyme-smiths joined by DNAEBEATS from the Bay Area aboard this spacey, synthesised P-Funk mothership revival. ‘El Gifto Magnifico’ racks up the first single and finds Gift Of Gab spitting calisthenics of verbiage left and right over a Latin organ but despite this, as it ascends through ‘Dreamin’’, Del the Funky Homosapien and Brother Ali orbit Gab lyrically with half a sweat leaving the rapper stammering through bars over a robotic delivery of beats. The leading track from the LP ‘Electric Waterfalls’ features Lateef the Truthspeaker and Jojo Velarde from the Quannum collective, who throw in vocal mechanics over Korg electronics as the globally-aware Gab, with a rise in his rhymes, questions the heavy footprints technology treads. On ‘Richman Poorman’ Gab stays in a conscious mind over more electronic mélange by Headnotic who stays on for ‘Some Of The People’, a stand-out track which serves to lighten the mood with its piano-touched groove. However, before disembarking the journey, ‘Spotlight’ rattles the rocket ship trunk with a smacking beat and touches down on ‘Rhyme Travel’ completing this intergalactic opus. As this follows 2004’s 4th Dimensional Rocketships Going Up, Gab’s Escape 2 Mars ventures on his exploration, treading over old footprints to a flag already planted. Despite Gift Of Gab’s lyrical flow being like Bruce Lee’s “be water” analogy, the sonic template contains the same even flow as the last – albeit another sound fantastic voyage.