Music Journal #012

Having enjoyed the title track from her Dirty Mind Melt EP, I decided to dive into Natasha Kmeto's latest album, Crisis. At only two-and-a-half minutes in length, the title track intro still felt too long as it seemed like there weren't many things going on, though it set the tone for the rest of the release suitably. The upbeat shuffle, spanning synths and familiar arpeggios were dressed Kmeto's sensual voice on Idiot Proof, one of the more stand-out tracks for me. The theme continued on Last Time, separated by the more tribal, Grimes-like Brushstrokes. The album hits consistency and paces actual songs against intermittent, largely instrumental jams such as the pondering Vodka Diet. "Who will be the one you're taking home tonight? Can I be the one?", the opening lines on Take Out came across as slightly cringe-worthy initially though the song soon finds its feet, with vocal layering channelling more 90s R'n'B than funked-out synths and 80s nostalgia. All in all, a tasteful, sleek and sexy album that fits a nice groove between singer-songwriting, deep electronica and R'n'B.

Dean Blunt is largely known for his work as half of the duo Hype Williams, who also put out the excellent Black Is Beautiful last year under the Dean Blunt & Inga Copeland name. As it happens, Dean Blunt is a man with versatile skill, as aside from filming his own videos and putting out his own art exhibitions, he takes a turn towards completely new grounds on The Redeemer. The album finds itself juggling weird and wonderful, typically Blunt distractions with never-before-seen, honest glimpses into the mind of the man himself. The classical influences on The Redeemer dwarf any hint at the familiar electronic productions, with string movements on The Pedigree as well as the opener. Demon serves as therapeutic self-consideration, telling tales in an unorthodox manner: Joanne Robertson questions, in a robotic voice, "So what did you do?" before Blunt replies with samples of car alarms and smashed windows, "What you did was wrong. Wrong," declares Robertson. Brutal is perhaps my favourite piece from the release, with piano that harkens back to Mariah Carey's The Roof and later transforming into something fully-fledged and increasingly beautiful. Blunt tries to move on with life past the heartbreak, initially confused then later coming into his own more confidently, "Girl if you see my face, I doubt I'll be there. You will fall from grace, without me there. And I'll find my place, without you here, yeah, yeah." Papi leans towards sleek, downtempo trip-hop and freer instrumentalism, and the title track duet with Inga would have easily fitted in on Black Is Beautiful. The almost vocal-less Walls of Jericho is another highlight on a deeply unnerving, scarily vulnerable and all-round excellent LP from the experimentalist producer.

Action Bronson and Harry Fraud continue their mutually beneficial, highly successful rapper-producer relationship on SAAAB Stories. Opening with 2 Virgins, Bronson can be found delivering multitudes of outrageous instant quotables over Fraud's surprising, kick-less beat. Big Body Bes doesn't necessarily rap but fits in perfectly with boasts like, "Got a fuckin' fifty-year-old Puerto-Rican with me, he don't even know my name, but he gon' stab something for me. He know what time it is, no watch on the wrist." Strictly 4 My Jeeps is throwback braggadocio with a no-messing-about beat for Bronson to assert himself over. No Time carries a singalong chorus and hook, "A couple sweet words will make your girl go down... On the whole team," and on the final track even Prodigy and Raekwon are struggling to keep up with Bronsolino. A worthy new entrance to his rapidly-growing discography.


One thing I love about The Haxan Cloak's Excavation is that he doesn't just use unintelligible fuzz to intimidate. The textures are real, purposeful and deeply unsettling. It's a harrowing listen that engulfs your surroundings and plagues you with something spooky when it's on. Opening with the thunderous unpredictability of Consumed,t he record moves on to the two-parter title track which is filled with as much curiosity and discovery as it is eeriness. Miste begins with the end of someone's scream or gasp, loud and shocking, and The Haxan Cloak goes on to loop it as the bed of the track, quilted with menacing pulses. On the latter part of The Mirror Reflecting (Part 2), the music almost reaches a groove, seeming completely wrong and thus oh so right. It's this kind of versatility, how the artist can make you feel different sides of the same mood in so many different ways, that makes Excavation such a compelling sound. The Drop ushers the album out in a summarising fashion, encompassing many features that made other tracks stand out, and letting them fall into decay before our very ears.

It was hard for me to cope with the lack of direction on With Love, as previous Zomby LPs seemed to benefit greatly from the focused intent. He continues his craft of constructing various tracks using a very small, specific set of sounds on the new album, something he'd done on Dedication too. There's a distinct lack of any 'songs', though - the double album is filled with two or three minute long loops, ideas that are fully formed and substantial but not stretched out into anything accessible, so to speak. Which isn't a criticism, however, I do love the quick-fire, never-rest attitude, though variation would be interesting. The beats are very typical of Zomby, and when you take his penchant for snippets of airhorns and such into account, each track is essentially already a calling card for the artist. Vocals come in sparse but stand out, such as on Rendezvous, where his methods of distorting them are juxtaposed interestingly. Occasionally, Zomby brings back the sound of his first full-length, and his work with jungle breaks is particularly outstanding, such as on the outrageous, out-of-control Overdose and the wild end to the first disc, 777. The second disc carries the themes onwards, albeit in a more gentle, pensive manner. With Love acts as a smorgasbord of whatever Zomby is currently interested in or fascinated by, with a Zomby spin on things. The subtle take on trap Digitial Smoke and Entropy Sketch serve to validate this. The one collaboration (I'll give Zomby the benefit of the doubt here and assume he wasn't forced to list his collaborator) comes with Last Japan featuring, in which the pair seem to channel a little bit of grime into the proceedings on Pyrex Nights. Many of the tracks sound similar on With Love, which is to be expected, as what the artist is doing is using the same basis for tracks and taking them into different directions, and pitting the various explorations against each other. The only disappointing thing is the lack of cohesion on the release, as it's the first time I've had this issue with Zomby. Regardless, it's a very exciting, highly enjoyable experience that's sure to soundtrack many moments of my life in future.

It's delightful when artists you like release something substantial completely out of the blue, still I approached Nicolas Jaar and Dave Harrington's 'Daftside' remix of Daft Punk's Random Access Memories with wariness. Somehow, it proved to be more entertaining than the original, as well as just as boring at times. It's really well textured, opening with fuzzy takes on Contact and Motherboard, while Instant Crush and Beyond lean more towards their funkier familiar grounds. Much of Nico Jaar's lounge aesthetic spreads over the album, with Get Lucky chilled down a little, and it works. Dancefloor-ready cuts are given some space too, such as the loopy, sometimes wild Doin' It Right frees the joints up some. Far too long, but very well put together, it's worth a listen.

oOoOO doesn't go out of his way to make his work accessible, however I still managed to find much in Without Your Love and lost myself there too. It's less warm than his EPs, and much more tangible too. It's not a new direction, but more of a new focus, a new journey - as the first release on oOoOO's own label, it really is. Staple layered haziness is still a presence on Sirens and on 5:51am where the most beautiful strings are blended with an electro sample. For the most part, things are menacing, whether they wistfully wander - essentially the whole first half - or proceed with a more imposing stomp, heard on Mouchette. The South is truly in the spirit of the now, with rattling claps and hi-hats buried in interference and sampling RnB to put a spin on Salem.


Honest, straight-faced and refreshing, Waxahatchee's Cerulean Salt felt like the audio-equivalent of washing one's face and cleansing one's skin. The singer's rustic tune is carried by largely untroubled folk that occasionally dives into punk. What seems gentle the first time round can become more imposing on repeated listens, for example Dixie Cups and Jars' riffs feel un-intrusive whilst later the artist's intent singing manner gives the backing some spine. It gels together nicely for the most part but the pop-punk intro of Coast to Coast was something I found slightly grating. It was a really enjoyable listen overall, that helped clear my ears and head and cut through all the bullshit.

The nomadic Koudede carries West-African guitar musicianship of astounding skill with him on his travels, leaving the intuitively brilliant Taghlamt in his wake. I can't remember how it was or when I stumbled across Golf, but everything from the rhythmic guitar, hypnotic bass and repetitive chants to the light percussion and just the general structure of the song seemed so perfect. It didn't matter that I couldn't understand the lyrics, because I could feel them. The rest of the release turned out to be fittingly exciting, with songs ranging from slow, easygoing odes like Toukan to the almost blues-y Kelourhou. I like the way it dabbles with different moods, styles and emotions - I wouldn't expect to hear Americana-folk on here but Tacekene tahra isn't far from the other side of the world at all, while the final track might as well have been released on Third Man Records. It's a riveting listen with as much soul as there is melody; a very human album for sure.


Skorokhodz's varying subterranean echoes may make for the weirdest part of Lee Gamble's Dutch Tvashar Plumes, though that may be because it's the first thing to be heard on the record. It brings you into Gamble's world so you can shake off the shock as quickly as possible in order to then experience the rest in a more appreciative state. Like Lee Gamble's lobotomised jungle autopsy Diversions 1994-1996, it's a very introspective experimental piece of electronic music, though it has transcended its constraints and finds itself almost club-ready in parts - namely the tireless, ticking techno of Plos 97s. Of course there are those moments stretched out into eternities that the artist seems to be able to do so well, as on Black Snow. I suppose what grips me most about this work is that it's legitimately interesting - It made me want to hear what else was in store, and when it drew to a close I was mentally stimulated, still curious yet wholly satisfied. One of many highlights perhaps worth a mention would be the joyous, prancing tease of a melody that decorates Tvash Kwawar, a very much welcomed offering of rejuvenation on a thought-provoking and sensational album.


I have no reservations in stating that The Inheritors may well be one of the greatest albums 2013 has to offer. I haven't heard James Holden's debut album that precedes this, so the weight of seven years' waiting did not encumber me. Instead, an impulse listen for no reason other than intuition ended up in well over an hour of amazement. Singles Gone Feral and Renata do away with preconceptions and take the listener on a journey by the scruff of the neck, injecting blood with adrenaline and ecstasy. Conversely, Inter-City 125 slows things to a crawl and scrutinises the depths of proceedings before Delabole disorientates with a whirlwind of looped samples and drums of rapidly-changing intensity. Holden's balance is unbelievable, putting plenty of thought into the tracks but never too much; sometimes an idea, a spark of creativity and a willingness to follow with faith is all that's needed - the sprawling Blackpool Late Eighties was created on a whim in an Amsterdam hotel, explaining why it's so great: There's an embrace of the analogue, the imperfections and the lack of perfection that brings the record to life, filling it with character. Here is an album you don't feel something about, here's an album you feel something with.