Saturday, 3 November 2018

🐣 RUBY FRANCIS — RUSH (INITIAL TALK REMIX)

⊚ LISTEN TO RUBY FRANCIS, RUSH (INITIAL TALK REMIX) ⊚

This remix- with the soft bounce of its toy sized plasma chords, the virtuoso bass groove, the instant glitter of its glassy synths - oozes the blocky pastels of its late 20th century inspiration; it's a buffet of 1990s flavours served up by the Japan-based caretaker of nostalgia Initial Talk (whose credits also include a Dua Lipa 'New Rules' remix).

The original 'Rush' is minimal: all space and angular, squelchy synth. It feels contemporary for its sparseness and sub-bass, but equally retro-futuristic (sounding a little like Prince's 'Kiss' actually). So it makes sense that Initial Talk has transplanted the voice of Ruby Francis into decidedly retro surroundings. In fact, it feels as though this is the way it should have always been.

Like a safari through the aural landscape of twenty-something years ago, this remix of 'Rush' chimes, bounces and glistens with its purposefully timeworn elements. Ruby Francis' voice lilts soulfully in the verse, its echo weaving through the skipping rhythm—elsewhere it provides a sprinkle of jangling '90s ad-libs: "baby, why the rush?"

But the chorus is the centrepoint for this track's magic. The two distinct parts to the addictive vocal (the simple clarity of the first 4 bars and its playful vocal melody, and the rich, winding harmonies of the second 4), the step-up into it, the faroff sparkle of it, the warm, vibrant bass, the swaying beat. It's a cocktail of everything it should be: delicious escapism.


  • πŸ”” Stream and/or download Initial Talk's remix of 'Rush' by Ruby Francis via your fav service


πŸ“ 
Ruby Francis Internet Presence ☟
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πŸ“ 
Initial Talk Internet Presence ☟
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Tuesday, 30 October 2018

🐣 LEON LOUDER — INKJETS

⌾ LISTEN TO LEON LOUDER, INKJETS ⌾

The interior AI spirit of a vast nowhere machine ascending into the vaulted sky, an imperfect aurora twisting and writhing, flashing and fitting with error messages as circuitboards frazzle and crack back on the ground, 'Inkjets' is a masterpiece of malfunctions created by Canadian producer leon louder.

With modulated synth chords rising up and the gentle pulse of soft synth pingpong boops this dimension of glitch and detached sombre sadness spreads out like a blood stain, sounding very like the soundtrack Twilight Realm from Zelda: Twilight Princess in the process. Muffled crashes and electrical crackling, the far off explosions of processes and the evaporation of data: it is the death of a computer.

Despite the metallic tinkering and clicking, as if this machine is attempting to fix itself, the garbled synth doesn't form words; there's no reassurance. Instead the vox is virtuoso in rivers of hummingbird babbling. At 1:40 there's what sounds like the genuine voice of this digital organism itself, a plaintive imploring purr, before finally the chords thin out into nothingness.


  • πŸ”” The fittingly glitch laden video for leon louder's 'Inkjets' was created by artist Chris Dorland ("who makes paintings with malfunctioning printers," explained Leon).


πŸ“ 
leon louder Internet Presence ☟
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Monday, 29 October 2018

🐣 DRENS — BICYCLE RIDER

⌾ LISTEN TO DRENS, BICYCLE RIDER ⌾

A frantic wallsmash of an ode to riding bicycles, the theme of German band Drens' pogosticking 'Bicycle Rider' doesn't need to be guessed at. The drums are destroyed as the thud fuzz of the snare and splashing razor cymbals become a crashing cutlery drawer of mayhem, setting the rocky terrain where the rest of this track tumbles and divebombs.

We asked the band about the background to 'Bicycle Rider'.

"Our rehearsal room is in a rough area in Dortmund, so we park our bikes inside. [Drummer] JoΓ«l saw them and started to shout this "bicycle rider" thing," Drens co-founder Fabian LivrΓ©e (vocals, guitar) told us. "The special thing is that we didn't replace the lyrics, because we started to like it. It's our kind of humor and we really like riding bikes."

It's just over a minute of wiggling arpeggios, thrashing guitar and thick galloping bass – complete with stringbreaking guitar solo and vocals overflowing with breathless bite – for a punch-in-the-face parody of the surf sound: instead of hitting the waves, they're tearing up the streets by pedal power.




πŸ“ 
Drens Internet Presence ☟
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🐣 ISAK THOMAS — SOMEWHERE, SOMEHOW

⌾ LISTEN TO ISAK THOMAS, SOMEWHERE, SOMEHOW ⌾

With a feeling like being invited into the worn pages of a diary tinged with VHS static, 'Somewhere, Somehow' beats with a soulful horizontal heart. Sweeps of warped guitar play somewhere between a dripping bleak-empty coastal town and late night psychedelic bedroom introspection as lyrics float by haunted by the shade of a person, all set to the buzz and thump of a disintegrated beat.

"Lo-fi sounds from old jazz standards to acoustic folk and blues has always been a huge inspiration," trackmaker Isak Thomas explains over email, "so I was aiming to bring that nostalgic, scratchy sound to a more accessible platform."

And after a crescendo of crushed guitar sounds and vocals interrupting themselves in mantra form – "I know you from somewhere somehow / I know you from somewhere somehow" – sun breaks through swirling clouds for the final third of the song, the groove changes tack and jagged chord progressions streak in.

Isak Thomas' well dusted time capsule of a track, an opened Pandora's box of desire and apprehension, presents a crowded mind carved into a love letter destined for another realm.


  • πŸ”” You may purchase 'Somewhere, Somehow' by Isak Thomas via iTunes should you wish to do so. Or if Bandcamp is more your thing then you can grab it from there, too.


πŸ“ 
Isak Thomas Internet Presence ☟
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Sunday, 21 October 2018

🐣 LIPTICISM — WELLINGTON

⌾ LISTEN TO LIPTICISM, WELLINGTON ⌾
At first ‘Wellington’ is like a dream where you wake up floating in space: the cascading chimes, the reverberating plasma bass, modulated chords like the PS2 startup, the lances of synth soaring into an unseen distance. But there’s something super grounded about Lipticism’s track, owing to the earthbound first line and refrain: “That girl from Wellington, she says she never wants to see me again.”

The vocal, equally imploring and detached, spins a story with this stark statement: What girl? Why? What happened? Instant connection and intrigue.

And in its never-the-same-twice choruses, ‘Wellington’ is a swirl of glitter, sludgy sub kicks, hissing percussion, the voice of Lipticism herself rising in a nebulous stream; a shredded melodic line, lamenting coolly, overlaps into the next section - something this song does well, a constantly morphing dynamic.

More lyrics half heard in this jostling milky way of sound present the realness, the semisadness and frustration in simple terms: “That’s how it used to be…” and “I can’t read your mind” standing out beacon-like. And always it is cosmic, it is star-flung, sparklingly offbeat, visions of a void—the actual self, alone but catapulted above earthly troubles.




πŸ“ 
Lipticism Internet Presence ☟
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