October 2005 Archives
Leave me alone:
I never was really compelled by anything on the Crosstown Rebels label. Maybe it was their choice of sky blue sleeves and the Century Gothic typeface that put me off. But their first album release has totally struck it gold.
Much will be made of the fact that Pier Bucci is from Chile. And rightly so, his palette sits comfortably with such like minded souls as Luciano, Villalobos and Dandy Jack. All new breed Chileans taking techno to previously uncharted territories.
A psychedelic tint hovers over the album along with a thoughtful approach to melody, playfully executed. Sub-layers of acid and digital disintegration creep in every now and again to add tension and drama. The slow breakbeat waltz of 'Cosmic' jarrs against 'Towers' retro-bleeps and shuddering dub.
A calling card for next generation Chileans and their total mastery of the new dance.
Just felt compelled to mention this. I don't write about noise enough on FAIL, which I intend to rectify soon. As I tried to reach for some other CD from the top shelf, this dropped down and hit me on the head. An apt reminder if there ever was one. Still, it's lost none of its original appeal.
The guitar screech just before the abrupt end of 'Turning Point' is indescribably gutteral and the jarring ambience of 'Cloudy' lets the dust settle. But in between, it's the skullfuck excess of 'Hitting the Pavement' and 'The Inferno' that strip you bare and forces your head down into the digital blender.
Music to combat global terrorism with.
Processed guitar layered with shears of wafer-thin code make up this work from micro-house pioneer Geoff White. The whole album slides along at a leisurely pace, with recurring themes of delay, melody and season. But the moments to replay include the stunning opening of 'My Love, The Wave Break' with its summer-drenched haze and the clip-clop groove of 'Onward....Upward'. A near perfect synthesis of the acoustic and the electronic.
Female, German, Hip-hop. All points to something quirky, wacky and eurotrashy. But this has come sealed with approval from the studio of AGF. When AGF speaks, you listen.
Sometimes Quio's faux-ragga delivery can sound a little too enforced and mildly silly, she was known as MC Looney Tunes. But most of the time her messages are broadcast loud and clear. The bric-a-brac approach to beats and notes are sparse, cute and engaging. Allowing space for Quio and occasional contributors to fill the sonic gaps.
But it isn't without its problems; the running time could have been leaner. The old hip-hop album practice of skits is something that I never really found value in, but there are some moments of accepted weirdness.
Day-glo hip hop for the teletubby generation.
So we're allowed to compare them to Orbital now that we know that they're brothers. I mean I could tell all along really. Music like this, concocted from the ether doesn't come from conflict. You can look everywhere else for detailed deconstruction of this third long player, but I find this agreeable and accomplished.
The bits that stand out are the ones that'll become singles and others will end up on countless chill out compilations for the next five years. So no change there then.
The Campfire Headphase: Brothers gonna work it out.