After spending last weekend's Record Store Day perusing over records in a dimly lit basement, Earth, Wind and Fire's "Runnin/Brazilian Rhyme (Interlude)" has been on my mind. Featured on All N All- an album inspired by the group's trip to Brazil- it is a highly unique track which differentiates itself from the album's, albeit fantastic, R&B and Pop songs. Runnin's smooth-as-hell bass, guitar and vocal hooks transport you to a utopia where old-fashioned Star Trek futurism, glitter-ball Disco and Piña Colada beach parties exist in perfect unison. It has enough complexity to keep you on your toes, while providing you with ample booty-shaking ammunition.
A mind-boggling keyboard solo leads us into a carnival shakedown of epic proportions. Raging horns (courtesy of Latin funk god, Eumir Deadoto) provide a transcendent backdrop to grab your nearest Señor(ita) and gallivant around Brazilian pool parties, or, in the UK's case: a warehouse/mildly pleasant bar. Beautiful and powerful voodoo is afoot in this record, people. Be prepared to sacrifice yourself to the Osiris of Funk and expand your mind.
Having moved back to Manchester for a temporary period, I am able to peruse the diverse and expansive shelves of Piccadilly Records at my whim. Huzzah. It is among said perusing, that I found this gem of a record by Soichi Terada, an electronic producer and composer from Tokyo who- apart from composing the hyperactive music for the video game Ape Escape, releasing numerous albums via his band Omodaka and running his label Far East Recordings- made pioneering House music in the early '90s.
As a mysterious synth melody, floating keys, crisp hi hats and a pumping bassline plant you firmly in the romantic era of Chicago House's heyday, the record stops, and Nami Shimada's fragile and innocent vocals teleport you to the day-glow neon of a tracksuit wearing Tokyo karaoke bar. Her tones shimmer over the track, filling every pocket of rhythm with glittery, heart-shaped emotions, with just enough sickly sweet emotivity to stop you short of producing a rainbow-coloured pool of vomit.
Terada unashamedly makes use of '90s tropes; jingles, stabs, a brash howling sample and harsh brass synth all make their own cameo, along with everybody's favourite sound: the vocoder. It would be easy to simply dismiss these sounds as cliche, however, they add a haphazardly tongue-in-cheek charm to a song which is using the newest technologies of the day, by a man who graduated in Computer Science and Electric Organ,at the impressively titled, 'University of Electro-Communications'.
The beauty of 'Sunshower' is its ability to make you frolic like a little kid, singing along and pretending to know Shimada's words whilst performing the silliest of dance moves*. Furthermore, like all good dance tracks, it appeals to the layman club-goer as well as the music nerds, listening out for the bizzare musical nuances. Finally, as if the latter weren't enough to sell you, Larry Levan, the godfather of New York House, remixed the track with his own voicemail to Soichi Terada: "Mr. Levan calling Mr Terada, I need to know the key of your fucking song." Charming.
Happy listening,
Josh
Sunshower is out now on Crème Organization to buy at Picadilly Records (and all other respectable outlets, mind)
*For some interesting choreography, check out this song by Nami Shimada.
It’s rare in
this age of absurd Discogs prices that dance or electronic vinyl sees the light
of repress paradise. However, once in a while it happens…
Take ‘Optimists’,
the 2014 album by Belgian electronica/exotica duo, Mittland Och Leo, which I
found on a well-known alternative record website. The song which instantly
struck me was the epic first track: ‘Decades’.
A pounding drum
machine leads the track with perfectly coordinated,
spasmodic rhythms. The masterful approach to space and pace give the song
a tight groove and unexpected danceability, sending the listener on a
high-speed, Starfox-like glide through clouds of clicks, toms, snares and a punchy,
low-end kick drum. Purposefully puerile and naive, (think samba demo track
a la primary school keyboard) it is the drums which, in part, create a feeling
of nostalgia; akin to time-travelling into the imaginary bedroom jam sessions
of a 1980s teenager, or, to the twee, yet ironic, sounds of early electronic
pioneer Raymond Scott and his song Portifino 2.
The rich tones
of an organ cum synth bathe the song in warm, heavenly light, morphing
suddenly, from an angelic three note refrain, into
a grandiose, Angelo Badalamenti-esque church organ, full of fire and
brimstone. Juxtaposed against this conflict between good and evil is the
crescendo: an indescribably beautiful harmony consisting of a simple change in
melody and a heart wrenching analogue warble. It is this genuine emotional
output which saves Mittland from becoming another duo of nerdy,
pretentious hardware enthusiasts and allows them to create music, which not
only demands to be listened to and interpreted, but stands alone as music, not another "DJ
tool" or one-off.
While ‘Decades’
is a self-professed piece of nerdy, knitted-sweater-wearing electronica, it is
far from abstract; expressing human emotions behind it’s electronic exterior
and striking a fine balance between cerebral electronics, hazy, pop-orientated melodies
and dance floor-ready rhythms.
Now, to get out
of my overdraft and review the album…
Strolling back home through a dusky industrial estate, I remembered an artist long forgotten from my musical memory bank: Klaus. So, putting my headphones on, I plugged into 'Neph' (his follow up from the amazing Tusk EP on R&S).
Lo and behold, the surroundings of the sun bathing gloomy factories and warehouses began to fit with the track. Sparse, skipping basslines intertwined with an echoing piano and saxophone (no Careless Whisper here, thank you) meld the piece into a blissful, warm comedown tinged with an element of sadness.
Nothing more can be said about the genius that is Klaus, merely heard. A man who blends elements of true musicality alongside the piecing together of fragments from the genre-formerly-known-as-dubstep.
Call me an amateur if you like, but I can get very bored by the current trend of grainy, analogue music...
Maybe it's because some of it never changes, maybe it's those off-kilter, discordant synths; either way, I always feel like a typical idiot listening to a house track: always asking when it's going to "drop". However, no longer shall my boredom prevail, (at least for today), as I have found Vakula's 'Picture of You': a track that really has changed my mind on this musical phenomenon....
As bit crushed hi hats take turns with bursts of white noise, an arpeggiated, daydreaming synth adds a sense of otherworldly disarray to the song. However, it's not long until soft pads enter in and take a slight edge off the song, easing us into the bridge...
Oh, the bridge, a heady blend of hands-up euphoria, suited and booted for Panorama Bar or just about any nightclub in the world.
As Hardwax would say, (and I am unoriginally stealing): "TIP!"
Via my love for the well known and rather stomping remix of More&more&more, I somehow stumbled upon Mr Flügel's alias Roman IV (the housier side of his recordings). Amongst said stumbling, I found the beautiful breaks of 'Cairo', from the very hard to find 1995 Roman IV release.
As the track's stuttering break beat and bass line wiggle their way into the ear drums, luscious pads gloss gently over the groove and repeating vocal sample; adding a harmonious balance to a track which is heavy enough to be played in a peak time set or somewhere in the middle to keep them kids dancing (if you're at all arsed about that malarkey).
Anyway, what I find interesting about the track is that it brings to mind the 90's rave nostalgia found in early Joy Orbison or Head High, which makes sense I guess... However, unlike those hep cats I am not ashamed to admit that in 1995 I was not munching pills, but eating mushed up Weetabix with bananas and watching morning repeats of Biker Mice on Mars.
On a side note, can we please have an international Roman Flügel day instead of all this Ed Balls?
Back when dubstep was still good... and... still sounded like... erm... dubstep, there were a couple of men. These men were a pair called Millie and Andrea, and they made a bloody good and short-run set of releases that focused on a variety of tracks that incorporated a vast array of soft synths, hard stabs, big basslines and amen breaks....
Whilst your typical dubstep producers such as Skream et al. were making hard half-step riddims, Millie and Andrea were carving a unique formula of quaking sub bass lines (alongside the odd wobble here and there) with a firm penchant for breaks and rave stabs reminiscent of UK hardcore.
Every track is immoveable and irreplaceable; as relevant to modern dance music and dubstep/"post-bass something-or-other" as it was back in 2008 when the odd strain of techno, garage and dub propelled by artists such as T++ and Ghostleigh was thriving.
Definitely worth a listen, and a buy, if you can afford £30 a 12".
Check out their releases here: http://www.discogs.com/label/Daphne
