Yeezus - Kanye West

Kanye West made to release his sixth solo album with unconventional promotion – no promo singles pre-release, no album artwork and a projection of his face rapping on buildings across the globe, as an ongoing thing. Yeezus leaked a few days before release and everyone rushed to dissect it, but made their minds up too quickly – this shuts off the potential for ideas, inspirations and realisations to form and develop to fruition. People hadn't given the album enough time. Of course, why should Yeezus warrant greater attention than other releases, when you ignore the artist behind the art? Well, people wouldn't go into other releases with the same mindset – once you know the artist, it's impossible to separate them from their work as you need to understand it and question their motives. Also, perhaps post-internet culture means that we may be too quick to make up our minds on everything else we listen to too.

I think it can be easy to fall into making an album that's an amalgamation of all the influences dominating media, easy to make a slick-sounding album in the vein of the 2010's, losing key individualistic components and becoming lost in the Zeitgeist. Few albums will stick with us through time, and I believe that for good or ill, Yeezus is one of those albums. If being memorable doesn't contribute to an album's worth, then we are fickle, unwise and short-sighted to brush aside longevity and pureness in out considerations to form some sort of rating out of ten.

It's fair to immediately express whether you like an album or not, some things just hit you or repulse you from the offset. Still, much of the actual analysis of Yeezus has been flawed, despite the huge discourse around it. I feel like people haven't understood what Yeezus is yet – including myself. Kanye West has told us what his intentions were with this work, though I don't think many of us get it yet. Understanding is something that requires time to manifest, if it ever does – especially for something so obscure and unclear.

One example is how the album was judged before any real production details surfaced. The extent to which Rick Rubin's reduction work influenced the album, how 'fourth-quarter' West's lyricism and vocal performances were, how much producers contributed, such as Hudson Mohawke, whose fingertips are all over TNGHT's work on Blood On The Leaves, but was later revealed to have worked on every single track in the final release as a general production overseer – none of these things were known to us as we first experienced Yeezus (and how on Earth did Benji B end up joining him?!) It was a pleasure listening to it blindly, just raw, unadulterated art. Then the background comes to light and pus a new spin on everything – it's important to stay open minded and remember thoughts before, and after, and how they've changed.

Some thoughts didn't change – I'd never heard something so utterly, gloriously alienating yet so all-encompassing. The nature of paradox and contradiction is one of the main themes running through Yeezus. Other themes include the ego, aspiration, social commentary of being a rich black man, unapologetic attitudes towards sex, racism towards blacks among other things. The Kanye West treatment is rough – musically, this album is a devastating hurricane through styles, though Kanye uses the same hurricane to express how he truthfully feels on the aforementioned themes with unpolished lyricism. Truth isn't fair, or well-balanced, nor is it necessarily justifiable. Truth is innate, impassioned and yearns to be told – West obliges to his truth and intuition throughout.

West realised the Afro-American Dream, at last. He didn't like what he found there. His previous solo album was a conceptual artistic statement, the one before that a fight through bereavement. Earlier releases saw him trying to reach where he is today – but now where or what does he aspire to? God? Few black men have reached the level of combined influence, fame, power, wealth and freedom of creative expression that Kanye West possesses, so I don't think the concept is completely far-fetched.

West bemoans executives telling him what he can and cannot do, and the rest of the world hooked on paparazzi insists on berating him too, and his art is brushed aside. West is one that finally made it, yet here he is, still hitting glass ceilings. These circumstances are a foundation stone for the album – without them, Yeezus would not be Yeezus. It doesn't matter if local rapper x said the same thing on mixtape y about z years ago, heard by a couple thousand people. Many thought George Bush was a racist but there needed to be a man on live TV going out to millions who could spit in the face of the system and say, “Bush doesn't care about black people.” Similarly, there needs to be a man with such a huge platform, such critical and commercial credibility, to say the things West says on this album with any significant weight. And as genius and madness can be two sides of the same coin, I maintain it's necessary for West to have those 'negative, arrogant' traits to deliver such monumental creativity. Yin and yang coexist, and it's okay, in fact it makes sense for West to have all this celebrity attached to him while still delving into such socially-challenging issues.

For a ten-song album, West manages to say a lot. The quality of things he says varies, as there are some unforgivable lyrics at times, “I'm going 300 like the Romans,” as well as the outrageous ones like, “Put my fist in her like a civil rights sign.” The latter has been criticised as inappropriately juxtaposing aggressive, even misogynistic sexuality with campaigns against racism and fights for freedom. In my opinion, it's a great capture of West's mindset. Social attitudes to black people is something that has been present in every album, as has sex – our heroes are not faultless and truly evil men may have admirable features too. It's a mixed bag, and since he started rapping, West has told us we have to take the good with the bad, and that we ought to take the bad with the good too. It's easy for us to do it with others, but occasionally we don't like to treat those we know and those we don't know with that same attitude. Someone compared Yeezus to Death Grips sonically, and the violent lyrics present in Ex-Military and everything else are treated as belonging to the protagonist of the story. Why must we refuse to even consider that the tales of Yeezus may come from a character extending from Yeezus' personality? It's an interesting observation, that we all assume West would talk to us personally, directly, on the same level with no abstraction at all.

Somewhat contradictory towards the previous consideration, it feels like West leaves himself wide-open on Yeezus. He celebrates and revels in his ego, on I Am A God (which is credited as featuring God), while addressing his issues on Hold My Liquor. On Sight is a bombastic album opener and on that and I'm In It, West is at his most self-indulgent, brash and sex-driven. New Slaves addresses the aftermath of Niggas In Paris-like mentality while Blood On The Leaves is filled with the regrets of previous relationships. I think it's foolish to ignore lyrics, but I think the focus should be on the moods induced by the words' content and their frenetic delivery mixed with many grunts and screams. It seems to be more about the vibe given, that's the most accessible way into West's head – it's all there sonically too.

Yeezus is similar to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy in that it's overflowing with ideas, however they don't all manifest themselves as tangibly as they did in the previous solo album. The general tone is anger, most tracks carrying an industrial presence as they mix genres together – the hard electro on Send It Up, put together by West, Daft Punk, Gesaffelstein and Brodinski, ends with a Beenie Man Chorus. Blood On The Leaves turns a rudimentary TNGHT beat – Lunice and Hudson Mohawke's second ever collaborative creation – into a fully-fledged beast with plenty of West's presence. The auto-tune is a more obvious Kanye calling card but the sample of Nina Simone singing Strange Fruit is utilised in a way typically West, aside from its thematic relevance. Low-frequency hybrid I'm In It combines characteristic Evian Christ basslines with hair-raising guest vocals from Assassin, whose Caribbean lilts set the track aflame. Hold My Liquor is a blurry, whirring ballad while New Slaves is some sort of brilliant mis-creation of everything West is interested in audibly – essentially a minuscule version of the album, as Bound 2 recalls and transcends things typically West.

I found Yeezus to be ugly, ridiculous and brilliant. The way it goes out of its way to put off listeners is telling of Kanye's intentions – it's time for us to shut up and listen while he does the talking, not that things are usually much different went West's music is involved. The clash of interests in terms of the beats on the album add sub-chapters and anecdotes to the overall monologue, and the all-embracing nature of the sound is delivered in such an un-relatable manner which is probably what I like most about Yeezus. I think it's rare we get an album like the one West has given us, and it lives up to all its out-of-this-world expectations by way of West's latest mantra, “As soon as they like you, make them unlike you.” Yeezus is the fallout of our focal character’s story, a story which led him to world-conquering heights, the lowest of the lows when his mother died, and straight to the top once more with the universally-acclaimed art My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. After our anti-hero with a thousand faces has reached the end of his archetypical fantasy, what happens then? Yeezus serves as an unorthodox, not-so-happy-ending epilogue, as well as what may be a prologue to a whole new narrative.

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.

Music Journal #011

The Underachievers are a duo from New York, one of the few rap artists signed to Brainfeeder. Their impressive single, The Mahdi, comes from the Indigoism mixtape which, with the support of a range of producers, showcases their affinity for fast-paced flowing. From the start, the two artists are going all in - perhaps resulting in the mixtape's greatest strength and also its greatest weakness: It explodes and explodes and explodes and is sluggish in terms of changing pace. It's a good job they're good rappers then. Carrying a cadence reminiscent of a young Mobb Deep, they boast and brag in a typically gritty Brooklyn manner, leaving trails of social commentary as food for thought in their wake. Consistency is key with the tape, first awing me on So Devilish and then half-way through on New New York. Later, there's a flurry of really strong tracks, with the enigmatic My Prism followed by a welcomed slower beat on Gold Soul Theory, which channels a Demon Days-era Gorillaz. Fellow city dwellers Pro Era are represented by Bruce Lee Kixxs on the mellow brood of Potion Number 25, which precedes the lead single. It's a mixtape with a steel spine, if not necessarily an outrageous statement of intent, but it more than does the job in proving that the Underachievers will become a formidable force in the years to come - especially under the nurture of Brainfeeder.



The beginning of DRKLNG, the mixtape from maverick lyricist Zebra Katz, is great because you can tell he's holding back despite the solid step forward - in his element of hazy, bassy and minimalistic beats. The balance is lost a little during the second track sounding like a cut from LiveLoveA$AP gone slightly wrong. After the first interval with a sample emphasising reading, I expected to hear the astonishing Ima Read, but instead was treated to an outrageous and all too fitting Busta Rhymes take on the single. Katz doesn't let the mixtape run away from him though, with Y I Do being the first track on the release that stands on its own and gives the artist some real, needed limelight exposure. The next skit touches on 'weirding the listener out', which is essentially what Katz sets out to do with his music that sets him apart from some of his contemporaries. His refined, clear-cut approach slices through the fuzzy distractions that other artists seem to thrive in, and his beat selection can do the talking too. He covers Tiffany's I Think We're Alone Now in a way that exposes the track's darker undertones, which I found delightfully refreshing. Bowing out on Last Name, Katz, Zebra Katz really comes into his own with single-ready material that forces an impression of the artist into the mind - "First name Zebra, last name Katz. Middle name Fucking, whatchu know about that?"

~~~This is the stage of my life where I just don't have the time or energy to write as much about each release as I've ended up doing recently, and start writing what is essentially a musical stream of consciousness. Oops.~~~

The promotional campaign for Random Access Memories pretty much stopped the world turning for a few moments - particularly when it leaked hours before its first broadcast to special guests at the Shard in London. I wasn't impressed by the new Daft Punk album, and left it somewhat disappointed, yet strangely on a high due to the outrageous, euphoric fun that is the final track. Still, things were iffy from the offset and the third track, Giorgio by Morodor, summed up the album's polarisation within itself. Unlike the album however, the track's flaunts and flaws make it memorable. The collaboration with Panda Bear also finds a sweet spot, but other promising pairings such as with Todd Edwards disappoint thanks to Daft Punk's adamant intent to make dance music soulful again - as if they were the judges of soul. The distinct lack of Todd Edwards production and trademark vocal cut-ups leaves a bitter taste. There is a lot of forgettable stuff on the album, which for the most part serves to make you reconsider how good Get Lucky actually is compared to tracks like Lose Yourself to Dance and Motherboard. I'm not quite sure when everyone all of a sudden became a devoted Nile Rogers fan but sure, this album is meant to be treated as a funk one, as opposed to dance. Which seems wrong to me, as I'd rather just take it for what it is; music. Music is universal, and be it a funk-hybrid or an 'EDM' game-changer, RAM falls short of the mark and I look forward to freeing up some space for the abundance of other new, soulful electronic music surfacing these days...


Which leads me to Mount Kimbie's sophomore release, Cold Spring Fault Less Youth. It takes a few tries to make sense of the title, though the music itself is far from inaccessible. The first track is quintessential Kimbie, perhaps with a Gold Panda tinge, that manages to reiterate where the duo are at, before the album showcases where they're going. King Krule is the sole guest on the LP, first announcing himself on You Took Your Time with, "Now did you see me? I killed a man. They all stayed down, but he chose to stand." His wisened croaks flow fittingly over what's first a simple beat. His rapping prowess isn't surprising, though when the song explodes as an emotional firework  half-way through is. Mournful melodies and grumblings lead into the positive, transcendent transition of Break Well. I mentioned on By Volume how I felt about Made To Stray, which may well be one of the greatest pieces of music I'll hear this year. The rolling drums of Lie Near make for a great instrumental while the sparkling Fall Out draws a highly charming second effort from the duo to a close. On Cold Spring Fault Less Youth, Mount Kimbie take a more restrained approach as they refuse to let each and every idea fizzle out everywhere, and I'd look forward to seeing the album performed live seeing as that was a key factor in the LP's production.

Yugen is Koreless' first extended play, so it's interesting to see how consistent it is compared to the quality of his 12"s. A typically atmospheric affair, all the songs hold plenty of texture and blend into each other masterfully, as with Ivana into Sun. I found the latter track slightly infuriating, as everything about it is luxurious, but for the one lead melody which is played on a grating synthesiser that feels dishonest and out of place on Koreless' effortlessly naturalistic productions. The same criticism goes for Nosun, which is to be expected as it's a mirroring reprieve of Sun. Last Remnants and Never are the better examples of Koreless' new focus - the EP sticks to a similar vibe and explores all the off-shooting peaks and troughs to be found there, instead of jumping around incoherently. The specialised direction the artist takes it in is impressive.

After hearing the beautiful Luxury Problems from Andy Stott, I made a mental note to pay attention to all things Modern Love. Miles put out his Unsecured EP on the label which I found to be a really good listen. The opener traverses the realms of the Industrial Nightmare Techno genre while its follow up was slightly bouncier, leaning more towards Chinstroker Tech House. Somewhat akin to Pete Swanson in the way the music uncontrollably bubbles up into devastation as does economic growth, Infinite Jest is a draining romp while the final track paints the mental picture of Dwarven smiths hammering away inside a church somewhere below ground level.



Django was one of the first jazz pieces I ever really listened to, and its infectious double bass isolations and flawless xylophone melodies make their appearance as the forth track on The Modern Jazz Quartet's Pyramid. After an exceptionally welcoming and creative first track, Vendome, the album seems to suffer from the law of diminishing returns making me weary after full play-throughs when solely focusing on the music. It's a really well-polished, classy and accessible release that remains interesting enough all the way through but some moments certainly outshine others. The songs gel together well though sometimes seem to just rely on the xylophone too much, in order to avoid becoming staple interlude music. The chemistry between the musicians is organic, yet maybe too safe at times. Still, I'd consider it a flawed masterpiece, or just outside of that realm, and undeniably a go-to point for anyone looking to explore jazz without being overwhelmed by aimless experimentalism.


It was high time I familiarised myself with Nina Kraviz' self-titled album, already aware of her mixing and producing ability to a decent extent. The release blew my expectation out of the water, as I didn't realise how deft and subtle she could be. The techno-ambient Walking in the Night, 4 Ben and The Needle act as wonderful cushions for the meat of the album, and its close, Fire, was a gentle comfort. Her vocal contributions complement her beats as well as any guest's could,  so her holistic production style works in her favour as she can take the music exactly where she wants to without the need to convey an understanding. Lead single Ghetto Kraviz is downright weird, a hip-hop-house oddity which entrances listeners due to its hypnotic unorthodox nature standing out from the rest of the album. The serene grooves on Taxi Talk and soulful bounce of Choices hit the highest of highs on an album filled with highlights all the way through.


oOoOO's self-titled EP is summed up really well in its cover art. Each track is a hazy flurry of strange noises draped with translucent sample layers and awkward percussion. The first track feels awfully isolating when you consider it's called Mumbai, abstracting vocal snippets into a paralysing experience. oOoOO works with vocalist Butterclock on a couple of tracks, such as Burnout Eyes, which proves to be a fruitful pairing that captures the luxurious textures both have to offer. Sedsumting's throwback 80s synth vibe is translated well with a newer, more dizzying and uneasy sound which eases up on Hearts.The final original track takes a trip for darker shores and the remix of Burnout Eyes comes across as delightfully club-friendly.

The main issue I had with Nosaj Thing's Drift is that for the most part, it was quite boring. I loved the spaced-out funk over a hip-hop beat on Coat Of Arms and Fog was enjoyably eerie though there simply wasn't enough happening for me in the thick of the album. It was delectable but not particularly memorable, good background music for other activities perhaps. The two-part Light came across as underdeveloped and things had fallen flat by Voices. The choir sample on Lords seemed basic and grating, and I was disenchanted by the end though I do look forward to future releases as I feel Nosaj Thing could do much better. Drift lacked texture and importantly, personality. No identity imprint was detectable, and that's something that could really bring the likes of Ioio to life.

Inga Copeland dropped her Higher Powers mixtape out of nowhere, such is the way of a higher power. The tracks seem to be demos from last year, though knowing her production style they could more or less be the final thing. Still, A&E went on to be redirected to Martyn for production and release on her latest EP, while the mixtape refers to it as the 'copeland audacity mix' on a razor-sharp, pensive affair. BMW is a gritty slow-burner and the faint, kinetic drum breaks on Light On make for an unusual experience. The majority of the opener involves screeching high-frequency droning and Inga's collaboration with Scratcha DVA feels natural indeed. Inga expresses the most emotion with her dubiously pleasant vocals on Obsession 2 on a mixtape that expectedly delivers the unexpected.


It's hard for me to come to any insightful conclusion with regards to Konono Nº1's Congotronics, seeing as I'm so new and probably misunderstanding of African music. The group come from Democratic Republic of the Congo, playing instruments improvised from junkyard scraps and kalimba-like instruments - the electric likembé. The first track is a frantic rollercoaster rhythm entailing funky percussion and folk chanting while its successor slips into more of a groove. On Kuke Kule, the group trade funk for clarity with a slower-paced melodies while Paradiso related to more traditional rock drumming. It's a highly danceable record that inspires and seeps with unavoidable joy, and I loved every second of it.

Jacques Greene recruits How To Dress Well for the title track of his On Your Side EP in a magical marriage of club beats and intense vocal contributions. Tom Krell's urgent, driving contributions transform it from a tune into a song, echoing mid-00's R'n'B while Greene blends together a perfect mix of bassy goodness. Unfortunately, Faithful is a considerably less impressive creation that feels like filler despite its clean-cut execution. Quicksand feels more fleshed out with character, with the main melody supported by strong hi-hat work, and the vocal sample is manipulated in a typically Greene manner that doesn't fall short of the mark in the slightest.

I'm pretty upset over Disclosure's Settle. One of the more salient gripes I have with it is that there's almost no reason at all for it to be an album - there's no drive, no cohesion, no real concept; It's as if they made it an album for the sake of making an album, and this rinsed the same formulaic ideas that worked well before over and over, until over half of the LP feels like it's essentially one or two tracks. That's a problem, when the album is fourteen tracks long. The numerous collaborations with guest vocalists feel like anyone could have contributed, namely You & Me with Eliza Doolittle, January with Jamie Woon and Jessie Ware's disappointing performance on Confess To Me (which is a decent song overall in fairness). White Noise with AlunaGeorge is good but misses the oomph that Hudson Mohawke provides on his remix, while Latch throws all the production skills we know Disclosure have right out the window. The record is filled to the brim with decent pop-garage that's sure to give DJs a few weapons on the decks but the lack of experimentation is what disappointed me. Disclosure's production quality is undeniable though they remind us again and again and again about it unnecessarily, to the point where you feel they're hiding a lack of versatility and imagination. None of the tracks sound bad, per sé, but they can leave a bad taste in the mouth occasionally. The collaboration with London Grammar that closes out the album is a bore, however all credit due to the amazing sample used throughout the intro and it's follow up.

Babel from Mumford & Sons was bland and generally uninspired. Their radio-friendly, cacophony of mid-range folk loses sincerity despite the pseudo-deepness of the main vocalist's lyrics.Songs such as I Will Wait and Holland Road have little character and struggle to remain in the foreground, The greatest moments come when the lead seems genuinely angered and lashes out, or when things become surprisingly subdued and slow down. There's not much else to say, it was a bit of a non-event for me.

Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion begins with a spark moving along a trail, gentle but with intent, until In The Flowers explodes with a flurry of instruments flying in all different directions like fireworks. The shock brought a smile to my face, which stayed put throughout the colourful My Girls. Summertime Clothes is probably one of the happiest singles I've ever heard. Despite all the glitter and fun on the record, Animal Collective keep things messy with psychedelic riffs and ramblings scrambled across the release. One of my favourite aspects is the percussion - on tracks such as Guys Eyes, drums hit in clicking and clacking bursts, like an off-kilter drum loop. The album is essentially the epitome of the phrase 'weird and wonderful', always moving, rarely disappointing. Half the fun is trying to keep up with wherever it is the band are going.

I was slightly worried prior to Gold Panda's second album, Half Of Where You Live, as his first album was uniformly brilliant and he followed it up with the shaky, forgettable Trust EP. The sophomore full-length benefits from a very strong start, with the shuffling odyssey Junk City II leading into knocking loops on English House and Brazil, which features an enchanting, chiming latter half. Like the first album, Gold Panda finds a nice place to bring together all the folds of exploration, authenticity and delicacy. Aside from the oriental-flavoured bounce of Flinton and Community, Gold Panda provides moments of respite on My Father In Hong Kong 1961 and S950, moments that are to be well-cherished, calm and rejuvenating. One of the greatest points on the album is the end of the penultimate track, The Most Liveable City. Light, rapid beat stabs are cushioned by waves of synths that call out longingly. The lead melody on Reprise closes out the loveable, above-average release fittingly.

For Years is the name of Airhead's debut album on R&S, as well as the length of time it took for him to create it. Airhead is the guitarist touring with James Blake's live band, and it shows. Much of the music feels like it could have been made at the same time Blake was releasing his pre-album EPs, though in fairness one of the more memorable tracks is named Wait. Released as a single in 2012, the track spins together dizzying guitar flourishes with dismembered vocal samples from Karen O, perhaps from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs song of the same name. Airhead explores experimental folk along with the stripped-back electronic elements, a combination that comes together on the heart-warming Autumn, while on Pyramid Lake he de-constructs the bridge between the music and the listener with a haunting, skittering yet dense jam that's sure to scare dancefloors. Milkola Bottle is superior to all other tracks on the album for me, in which Airhead caters towards the bass-minded with ballooning low-frequencies and a multi-textured lead loop. Had the album been released a few years sooner, we'd surely remember it as part of the the post-dubstep era with Blake and Mount Kimbie. Right now, the album declares it's disregard for the rest of the music world, and gaining an insight into the mind of Airhead proves to be a worthwhile experience.

Demdike Stare are a duo, one of whom happens to be Miles, producer of the aforementioned Unsecured EP. The pair put out Testpressing #003 on Modern Love, starting with a patient tribute to the techno and house of Detroit on Eulogy. The nostalgic sheen and natural grooves are ditched for Dyslogy, a no-holds-barred occasion where drums power on full steam ahead, wrecking all in their path, as soon as the droning intro comes to an end. Everything crashes during the outro, fuzzy and abrasive white noise leaving a trail of scorched marks behind.

Music Journal #010

Ravedeath, 1972 is an album from Tim Hecker that speaks volumes conceptually and emotionally. Hecker became fascinated by the idea that technology was killing music, or at least music as we once knew it. And so, he took to Iceland and translated a day of recordings, largely on an organ, into this release. The Piano Drop, which begins the album, parallels the cover art, of students pushing a piano off of a building's rooftop for traditional, ritualistic reasons. If this track touches on the moment the piano teeters off the edge, then the three-part In The Fog is what happens next - or rather what we think is happening next. The distance the piano can fall is unknown, resulting in false fears of the worst, over and over, as seemingly random keys and chords spring off in different directions. There is a mournful menace present throughout the album, with organ samples and droning invasiveness conflicting to dominate most songs. It's as if the music starts to implode and tear itself apart - sawing off its own limbs during the ripping screeches present in Hatred of Music. In the Air chronicles an aftermath of sorts, aspects of the album returning to their respective corners to collect their selves and regain identity. Perhaps they have come to terms with each other's existence, or perhaps they are gearing up for another bout. Hecker leaves us amidst an uncertainty of forking roads and possible futures, little answers and insightful questions. One thing is for certain, which is that Ravedeath, 1972 is very real, and very much demands to be paid attention to - and the journey is worth it, too.

Giuseppe Ielasi's (third) Stunt concerns itself with the nature of sound itself. Littered with strange samples and field recordings, the composer layers loops of the clips over each other in a manner reminiscent of standard contemporary house music production. It comes together to sound little like house however, with tracks stumbling ahead, naturally ambling or wobbling to and fro as delays become as important as samples. It's evident great care has been taken to delicately build the songs. Thankfully it's far from boring as between the glitches and droning, there is plenty of fun to be hand trying to picture and isolate the sounds heard. On the first track, for example, a sharp inhalation, disjointed brass and the sound of trainers on a basketball court can be heard before exotic hand-drums and other unconventional clips. The middle part of the record seems more familiar with it's textured, warm ambience and the last track somehow finds itself in the realms of 'world music'.

One of the better experiences I've had in terms of discovering new artists in recent times would be coming across The Child of LOV. There is a bit of mystery about the artist at first, with a name harking to sense receptors in proteins, no face and no other information about him but for the fact his album would feature Damon Albarn production with DOOM and Thundercat - despite interviews and features in the more down-to-Earth music magazines. On hearing the unabashed, relentless funk of Heal and the gritty, intrepid take on D'Angelo's One Mo'Gin, I was eager to hear the full release. Thankfully it didn't disappoint. It turned out that the artist was a Zlatan Ibrohimovic look-a-like whose time was split between London and the Netherlands, who'd answered a Gumtree ad from Albarn. There is no secret, ulterior motive, no catch - just the drive to bring uncompromising soul that is so lacking in much of modern music. At times, synths are seeping from the speakers and other times both bass and drums are stomping and storming as the artist meandering, impossibly eclectic croon fills the music with life. There is a Jai Paul-esque rustiness to the album, swaggering without care for consequence. There is a mix of eccentricity and accessibility - perhaps too much on the final track yet the mix is perfected on single Give Me. Owl allows DOOM to be delightfully odd, while Call Me Up's lazy summer attitude strikes gold. I'm worried by some of the tracks' memorability but on the whole, the self-titled debut from The Child of LOV is daring and brimming with personality. Feels so good to live that funk again.

Germany and Japan combine on Insen, in the form of Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto. The former provides electronic beats that cushion the latter's pianist industry. Track names describe the experimental compositions succinctly, as on the ticking inevitability and pensiveness on Logic Moon and the comforting wisdom of Aurora. For the most part it's less of a battle between the 'natural' and 'machinistic' elements, and more of a yin-yang coexistence that is constantly flowing and sparring, pushing each other's boundaries. Throughout, the sounds are pure in their minimalistic isolation and impact, acoustic or digital essence notwithstanding. Different avenues are granted exploration as Logic Moon strips back yet ventures forth onto Moon, and hearing the progression of Iano before it all peels back distils beauty. At the end of it all, during Avaol, the two sides to the music embrace each other as one, fizzling away into nothing as if becoming one with the winds. This album was a wonderful listen, spanning countless moments of unspeakable awe.

The first piece of music I'd heard from Madteo was the wonderfully titled Rugrats Don't Techno for an Answer, which proved to be a surreal Drake-sampling weave of spaced-out synths and rolling percussion. The depth and texture of the track intrigued me and when I listened to Noi No in full, I was very impressed. The album shares more than just a title pun with Rugrats, as it hones innocent curiosity and exploration in its own world of electronic music. Madteo seems unafraid to dare on Vox Your Nu Yr Resolution, where he utilises a vocal loop to mess with the listener's sensibilities. Building a track around a vocal loop can easily lead a producer to a dancefloor-destroying anthem these days, yet what Madteo does is create his own narrative cutting up the same phrase, "Staying out of trouble" over and over and over. Instead of creating something inherently infectious, he opts to drill the chant into our skulls. The stuttering atmospheric opener Rut-a-Round is followed by Dead Drop (When I Saw You That Nite), a track ripe for playing in some dark, dinky techno basement in the early hours of the morning. The crackling interval of Bugged in Gaza, littered with chattering samples induces an unnerving experience and I had to pinch myself when Il Capoline closed with, "What are you reading? The Wall Street Urinal?" Vitruvian Nightmare is a menacing wasp-like cut that uses its slower pace to set its scene in its own time while the last track tears the idea of 'genres' apart at the seams, channelling a dizzying take on jazz percussion with hip-hop sampling styles to a haunting industrialist ambience. Noi No somehow managed to attack the boundaries with fierce confidence, yet with a sense of playfulness, bewildering structure and paralysis-inducing panache.

I feel like I was lucky to survive the beginning of HEALTH's self-titled album. The first ten to fifteen seconds are silent and then you notice the approach. Contact! A couple of warning shots later, you're into the thick of it: the refreshingly percussion-heavy thrash mixed with melodic keys and hums. Girl Attorney doesn't need to be longer than the half-minute or so it occupies, perfectly showcasing the seismic grooves the group are capable of. HEALTH skip back and forth between styles, never gentle and never still. I actually think their heavier material, such as the track Courtship, translates better and is far more memorable than the lighter offerings such as //M\\ - this comes as a surprise to myself but I guess it just goes to show what the band are capable of when they hit the high points. The rambunctious drumming can genuinely be felt through the speakers, which was the salient positive attribute of the record. The band flirts with different ideas, with Glitter Pills' electro-rock synths and claps being the most obvious example. It was an interesting angle, however they didn't manage to portray enough depth in their ideas at times. The final track Lost Time, embraced the barbaric simplicity that HEALTH pulled off so well for the most part, on what was overall a most enjoyable, surprise-filled experimental debut.

When a best friend recommends a favourite album of theirs to me, I become nervous and reluctant to listen to it. This isn't about why, though - this is about being grateful that I listened to Andrew Jackson Jihad's Knife Man. In perhaps one of the most surprising opening tracks of all time, Knife Man starts with a brief ballad telling the tale of 'The Michael Jordan of Drunk Driving'. In a touch over twenty seconds, Andrew Jackson Jihad have set the tone of the album - surreal, witty and self-aware humour carrying the weight of deadly serious social commentary on its back. During American Tune, the vocalist sings about a protagonist's experiences as a "straight white male in America", implicitly challenging the outlook on the 'social minorities' so to speak. Hopping along the horizon of folk-punk, Knife Man can sometimes be easy to listen to and sometimes hard - but always worthwhile. Distance is one of the heavier tracks, where song style and structure doesn't force a compromise on the humour, as the middle of the track develops: "I hate whiny fucking songs like this, but I can't afford a therapist. Sorry guys, here's a solo". The amusingly-titled Zombies By the Cranberries By Andrew Jackson Jihad muses a lifetime of possibilities and thoughts in a moment never spoken, in this case ways to help a street beggar in lieu of giving spare change from guilt or something insincere. Knife Man documents the philosophies and considerings of the average hero, the person on the street just getting by in life with undeniable conviction and wistful irony. Although the music itself is not something I connected with, the overall package is one to savour.

Having released two astonishingly good indie-afro-baroque pop albums, it seems unfair to me that Vampire Weekend were treated with scepticism by so many in the build up to their third release. I'm of the opinion that if one looks past the young, preppy (and by an assumed extension, naive) visage, you get a band with a sound innately joyous and accessible, with rare chemistry and cohesiveness and with insightful, tongue-in-cheek lyricism. Fortunately the same can be said having heard Modern Vampires of the City - named after Junior Reed's celebrated song imbuing the record with threads of uneasiness. The first track, Obvious Bicycle, requires some patience in spite of Ezra's plead, "Don't wait," and keyboardist Rostam's supporting vocals are what tie it together. Vampire Weekend seem to do a fair bit differently on their third LP outing, as if the writing and recording processes had changed completely. Unbelievers almost sounds Mumford and Sons-ish with its pop-folk acoustics (just an observation!) while Diane Young bubbles with eccentric electronic distortions. The drastic pitch-shifting of the vocals on the song that dares to humanise an abstract, anthropomorphic deity, Ya Hey, as well as the hyper pace and general indecisiveness of Finger Back demonstrate this. This new, surprising energy allows the drummer to really make his presence felt on many of the tracks, while Ezra knows when to give vocals of the old style too, such as on Step and Everlasting Arms. Vampire Weekend seem to work in extremes on this album - Hannah Hunt's ponderous development is interesting while the high, skittering piano notes gift us with that familiar Vampire Weekend texture. The lyricism on the album touches on themes like death and religion more than often, adding a more sinister edge to what used to be such a summery band; This is more like by the fire during the winter nights. It's as if the band have matured (though I maintain they already had) with a new-found perspective and ideology. They are much older now, and seemingly more wiser as the updated direction reaffirms the quality of their refined craft and showcases recent additions to their repertoire with admirable prowess.

Madlib's Yessir Whatever release under the alias/guise of Quasimoto seems to essentially be a collection of unreleased and unused material. The material on here isn't the best I've heard from Lord Quas at all, though it was well worth a listen. The beats are both playful and pensive, and Quas' antagonistic wordplay spars with Madlib's verses over more careful and cautious instrumentals than on The Unseen. What stands out to me is how easy Madlib makes it all feel; Whether rapping as his own self or as Quasimoto, over any kind of beat with lyrics straightforward or clever, it's evident how in his element he is. While there isn't too much in the way of daring ventures, there is no compromise either - there doesn't have to be as it all fits quite comfortably. It's always good to heard Madlib's knack for quality obscure, entertaining samples - contorted on The Front, cut up on Green Power and closing out tracks like Seasons Change in a unique manner. The best songs on here are Planned Attack, Am I Confused? and Broad Factor - they really stand tall as potential singles and are really solid cuts on a consistently good album. Broad Factor also demonstrates Madlib's ability to produce beats with outstanding depth and texture, looping the most subtle of samples - not that he needed to, but it's always good to see the best of musicians doing what they do best.

Savages' initial full-length offering, Silence Yourself, is a torrent of post-punk intensity. There has been a bit of discourse about the quartet, with their mission statement to shatter the life some have become lazily comfortable with, and drive to settle for more. I think that their music does all the talking necessary, really. From the offset, Silence Yourself pounds and pulverises with a passion that made me genuinely feel the music. City's Full holds an infectious bassline which carries the urgent drumming and raw, near-psychedelic riffs, while vocalist Jehnny Beth describes her rollercoaster of emotion and interaction up-front, honest and raw. The storytelling on the album is often done this way, relentless without holding back - She Will being another highlight, where melodious lead guitar leads the procession into noise and croaks and screams. I don't normally listen to this type of music, so the album struck the right chords with me. Its thunderous attitude mixed with powerful yet harmonious grooves paved the way for desperation to hear even more of their music and experience the renowned potency of their live sets. Marshal Dear closed the album wondrously, with the breath-taking lament of a saxophone.

The Gaslamp Killer - The HiFi Club, Leeds - 09/05/13

The Gaslamp Killer is a man known for his work with Flying Lotus' Brainfeeder label as well as his residency at LA's Low End Theory club night, leading to Thom Yorke's recent appraisal on Gaslamp Killer being his 'favourite DJ'. Named after the visceral nature of his sets and having worked with Gonjasufi aside from his labelmates, there exists an intrigue about the man. He released his debut album, Breakthrough, last year and while I wasn't completely sold on it, I enjoyed it for the most part, particularly tracks such as Flange Face and Seven Years of Bad Luck for Fun. I always expect a solid show with a good crowd from The HiFi Club as a minimum requirement, and was looking forward to seeing what havoc Gaslamp Killer and his overwhelming head of hair could wreak in the place.

Support came from the local beatmaker Bambooman. His set of crisp and clean bass and breaks was amicable to the ear but not especially engaging. As Gaslamp Killer stepped up to the decks enshrouded in a scarf and got his performance underway, I realised the oppose would apply to the headliner. He announced himself as "happy to be in this cold shithole" after spending time in "sunny Switzerland and sunny France" much to the approval of the crowd. We thought we were ready to hear what he had to play. We weren't.

It started with the sort of regal, middle-Eastern, perhaps Persian chords that flavoured his album, along with classic Bollywood style vocals which left us dazzled and dumbstruck - next thing we knew we were bouncing violently to A Milli, which was perhaps one of the few vanilla versions of 'well-known' tracks played. The Gaslamp Killer is a generous man, who treated us to exclusive cuts from Hudson Mohawke and Thundercat - the latter of which transformed into a glitch version of Dirt Off Your Shoulder. Jay-Z unexpectedly led into a similar take on Radiohead's The National Anthem and onto a crowd sing-a-long of Ridin' Dirty.

I was appreciative of how he brought the sounds from the States to us in his sets - tracks from Eprom, such as California Shit and his Niggas In Paris remix went down really well as did DJ Rashad's CCP. The common theme throughout was that the music had to be beat-driven, be it experimental hip-hop or juke, 8-bit style music or more jazzy and soulful Brainfeeder clips. Gaslamp Killer's presence behind the turntables went hand in hand with the nature of the music, and he was prone to fizzing off like a firework across the stage. The first time he did it took the audience by surprise, causing him to declare, "If you touch me I will fuck you!" We cheered and applauded.

His antics on the decks themselves weren't lacking at all. One highlight was when he began scratching over one of the more prominent tracks on Breakthrough, Nissim. Turntablist values were plain to see in his style, yet the start-stop nature became slightly frustrating at times. This wasn't his fault, however, as he was forced to explain: "I'm gonna smash this instrument with a sledgehammer... HiFi I love you but I've been DJing on like one turntable this whole time!" He also utilised a sampler to take tracks up to a whole new level of crazy, hopping along the stage furiously bashing the pad.

Staple classics in pretty much every hip-hop set in the UK didn't fail to make an appearance as Roots Manuva's Witness Dub and Dead Prez's Hip-Hop fed into the maelstrom. We were granted another unreleased Thundercat track from his forthcoming album as well as some Flying Lotus. Even Tame Impala weren't safe from the relentless, uncompromising romp with Solitude dropped alongside Snoop Dogg. As he closed the set on some soul music, The Gaslamp Killer dedicated the occasion to the late Austin Peralta, a very talented jazz musician from the label.

The Gaslamp Killer bemoaned his date in London the day after his Leeds performance, proclaiming the North is "more chilled" than the South, much to the HiFi Club's delight. His date is with Rustie, whose gig at Canal Mills drew parallels with this one in that his outrageous, maverick set stirred an absolute storm and was simply ridiculously fun. The enigmatic stage presence and active, entertaining participation with the audience helped The Gaslamp Killer make his mark - by the end of his set he was pondering the hopeless future of humanity, jokingly saluting Hitler and talking about how the audience's cheers were loud enough to shake his desk as well as his unmentionables.

When his set was over, he announced hoya:hoya stalwart Jonny Dub as a special guest who appeared from nowhere and swung straight into things dropping the Darq E Freaker and Danny Brown collaboration within minutes. I was disappointed to have to leave and miss most of his set, which I don't doubt continued the legacy of sheer psychedelic intensity Gaslamp Killer laid the foundations of in a mere hour and a half.

Photo by me