"Hiraeth" is a Welsh concept referring to a feeling of nostalgia and longing, often for something which has been lost. This title definitely befits this 4-track EP by Canadian producer Andy Wiseman. Regularly solemn in nature, each song envokes reminiscences to some bygone era. I wouldn't necessarily call it hopeful, though it is not altogether defeatist either--this remembrance is tinged with a sense of appreciation and love for our pasts. What may bum us out now was once a source of great emotional purpose, a well of happiness or complacency, things which we may not have understood in their moment. Sonically, Hiraeth explores ambient setpieces laced with downtempo rhythms that, while rarely complex, drift at an intelligent pace with meticulously chosen parts and features. "Scenic Roots" marches to a 4/4 kick accompanied by a funky bassline, almost like a memory of some house classic you may have heard before and forgotten all about. The melody on this is the most expert and practically commercial-sounding on the record, perhaps befitting of a big room anthem were it not so delightfully drenched in a minor key. I love the way the cheerful drum machine sounds--raw and bright--juxtapose the dark depths of its melodic sequence. "Flight Mode" is a more syncopated rhythm with a waltzy kick and hard-to-predict percussive debris; its melody follows a more melancholy route than "Scenic Roots," sporting many of the same techniques but with further complexity and a sadder tone. The two ambient pieces which sandwich the EP (title-track "Hiraeth" and closer "These Days Don't Exist") are beautiful, compensating for a lack of percussion with competent mood-making. I played "These Days Don't Exist" during last week's show.4.5/5
This record is mostly a set of improvisional ambient pieces recorded by artist Tm Spear, aka Secret Nuclear. The selection between the different improv recordings is well-done, as is the variance amidst the tracklist. "Suspision" and its reprieve occupy longform drone, "Endgame" is an arpeggio sequence from some haunted putt-putt golf loudspeaker, and the brief "Opening" is an exercise in strangled, moaning synth design. "Intelligence"--the shortest song on the record--does not last long enough to leave a very deep impression, though it is still a good song; however it is the EP's only track which feels better suited as a brief coda to a film scene than a separable music piece. The last two songs "gaussian memory 1" and "gaussian memory 2" are the only tracks which were not improvized. They feel more fully formed and manage to be distinctly more complicated than its predecessors. Especially on "1", there's a sort of sputtering, bugged-out electric gurgle to the pseudo-percussion, which pairs well with the rising and rewound horror movie leads in its melody. These final tracks remind me of an early 20th century electronic record, like those of Stockhausen or Dissevelt. Overall, an interesting work of improvisational electronica; not the most cohesive but still a fun and creepy listen. I played "Suspision" during last week's show.3.8/5
This is the 7th and final entry into Xoki's Æon series, which has been releasing on Danish label Rootplex every month since January of this year. It's a dub techno record comprised of two 15-minute songs. Excellent vibes on each of these tracks. Xoki's brand of computer music is distinctly futurist, remaking musical archetypes into the brilliant soundtrack to utopia. Each song is pretty similar but tonally they function as different halves to a sort of DJ set. "Æon 11.2" feels like the first half of a set, mellow yet cheerful with infectuous pads and tricky, glitchy synths; while "Æon 9.16 (inversion)" feels like the mellower closing half, much more subdued with the space and patience of a finale (it does, of course, also act as the finale to the entire Æon sieres). Though the length of these tracks might appear daunting or worryingly aimless, it manages to succeed in keeping your attention and occupying a time-shifting otherworld that--like any truly great dance tune--mesmerizes you into ecstasy. 4.5/5
I finally got around to listening to Park's sophomore EP that released last year. I was always a fan of her debut If U Want It from 2018 and was looking forward to the follow-up, especially after learning she had signed with Ninja Tune, though I guess with the chaos of lockdown I didn't end up listening to it until now. As a successor, How can I does show refinement and a certain elevation in skill, though there is something underwhelming to what it overall brings to the table. Continued is Park's definitive approach to low-fidelity deep house paired with her mumbling rap vocals. But How can I also weaponizes ecclectic re-interprations of this style, fusing it with unprecendented genres in Park's repetoire. The best example of this is in "How come," which rocks the best production on the whole release and is aligned more with high-tempo techno (with a Latin and ghettotech air) than lo-fi deep house. Park's mumble raps are absent but their lack of presence is compensated for. On the opposite spectrum, the title track "How can I" features trap production that though solidly sound-designed is subpar compared to the tighter songwriting on the other tracks, and is only really saved by Park's vocals and cleverly mumbled chorus. "NO" features techno leanings, a good kick, clever stop-and-go cues, and a tribal attitude. The other tracks are pretty good, and I wouldn't say the release is disappointing or anything, but I don't feel like I left the project with the same antsiness for a follow-up as I did with If U Want It. Still, her production techniques have improved, and she's introduced a taste for ecclecticism. She has also firmly established her tropes (the mumbled raps, the inconsistent capitalization of song titles, the coming-of-age atmosphere) and knows when to embrace them, though I'm hoping for more subversions of them on the next one. 3.4/5
Concrete Collage typically lands on the heavier, frantic side of braindance, leaning towards complex arrangments and spastic acid lines. On Interminstrel however, Colin Muir offers up lowkey transcendence traversed much slower than the fast--I mean, vast majority of this label's repettoire. Filtered waveform passages are wonderfully brought to life with bright yet sometimes moody qualities, the drums are creatively arranged, and the entire album radiates a very chill energy. Objectively, this album might come across as rather derivative to the styles of slower Aphex Twin or much of the Suction roster; however, as is par for the course in the world of IDM revival, it ends up feeling more like a wholesome homage than some lifted trite. In fact, the album as a whole is so soft and delicate, sedating you with its calm restraint and earning its moments of sad reflection, it becomes hard to overanalyze it or insult it in anyway. A solid vibe. Standout tracks for me would be the title-track tearjerker "Interminstrel," rhythmic-oddity "Febnuary," and the patient "Vanilla in Seven." Also the title of the album is a pun and I just realized it. 4.6/5
A collection of some of the earliest works of Detroit techno giant Carl Craig, released in 1996. Craig is remarked often for his lush, ambient-centered arrangments which make exquisite use of musical elements that provoke robo-pathos from soulful electronica. These early tracks showcase an immediate mastery of this style; each song is self-reflective yet inviting, allowing the dancers it hopes to pull the heartstrings of the freedom to choose between rumination and communion. Craig is likely the most praised techno virtuoso, so it is easy to dismiss the gravity of his skill, but upon listening to his "amateur" works you can easily become enamored with and awestruck at his inherent understanding of emotive techno. A few tracks even abandon the crutch of the kick-drum completely in favor of tone-focused ambiance with only subtle percussive accoutrement. Fellow Detroit techno staple (and expert breakbeatist) Anthony Shakir provides edits of tracks "Elements" and "Galaxy"; thankfully, these additions never drift the album away from Craig's unmistakable fingerprint, complimenting the larger production well. Standout tracks for me include "Neurotic Behavior" (a kickless ambient piece bubbling with arpeggiated sinewaves and an infinite, cinematic pad), "Evolution," and "Sleep" (another ambient track sans percussion, absolutely perfect synth arrangments, and an electric hum cleverly emulating a human snore). 4.8/5
Denki Groove is the beloved Japanese cult classic duo consisting of Takkyu Ishino and Pierre Taki. Together they make the goofiest, most amusing, infectuously danceable hip-house-adjacent music one could ask for. Flash Papa is their sophomore album and--while not quite as spectacular as their debut--is sure to inspire ear-to-ear smiling and beguilement. On tracks like the audaciously, borderline satrically Miami bass cut "Miami Paradise" and the cybernetic Fraggle-anthem of "Cafe De Oni," Denki Groove demonstrate their unique take on all things dance music. If you have yet to experience Denki Groove, their debut is an excellent start, and after rinsing that release enough times, dive into this one and prepare for a non-stop pleasant experience. The album is perfectly executed goofy fun that actually benefits from its moments of datedness and, despite offering an almost childlike sense of whimsy, cannot be ignored for its expert musicianship nonetheless. 4.1/5
I got into quite a disco mood in the middle of this week and was spinning some of my collection; ended up revisting this wonderful Casablanca release and was reminded of why it is so good. While not on the synthier side of disco that I usually favor, this album demonstrates much of the scene's other qualty attributes very well. Love & Kisses' only consistent member was Egyptian music auteur Alec Costadinos, who band-led large ensembles of various singers and musicians to push the limits and resources of studio session equipment of its time. This album in particular took a large focus on employing classical instrumentation (think more elegant ABBA) which gives the entire affair a lovely, positively corny aesthetic. The bulk of the album are its first two songs, the title track "How Much, How Much I Love You" and track 2 "Beauty And The Beast", which clock in at around 15 minutes each. These sweeping, wedding-song epics balance the majestic with the sexy in a very disco-coded manner. Its cover art, a nude woman glistening in the sun atop a thouroughbred white horse, is an excellent visual represantion of this attitude. Few other albums can just throw in a fucking banjo riff or steal guitar solo into something this classy. The closing track "Maybe" is a decompression to the hype of these longform floor-crowders, barely matching the temper of disco, but still a solid ballad with great vocals and a killer synthesizer solo towards the end. This is a great record showing off what can happen when a group is alotted every instrument in the studio to bang out dance music. 4/5
STINKERS
N/A* -- *got a shitty album you wanna show me? hmu
