Ace, lonesome digi from 1988, indebted to Tenor Saw, with Johnny Osbourne’s Can’t Buy Love submerged in its DNA. Crisp, driving dub.
Surely ‘Culture P’ would have been a better idea.
Perhaps you remember the French music producer Coni’s record for The Trilogy Tapes.
For the inaugural release of his own label, he presents the debut of a new alias.
‘Inspired by dramatic modern landscapes, and suffused by haunting memories, the record is an attempt to seek beauty in the midst of a chaotic and saturated present. Running over with intense rhythms, flicking hi-hats, fierce voices, melancholic pads and abject distortion, Transperce whips up a kind of industrial catharsis.’
RnB from Bristol, freaked, chopped ‘n’ screwed, but with its sensuality and slickness intact, for maximum dancefloor worries.
Four anonymous, strongly individual commissions from around the world: A1 is dubwise; Hit It Tool runs bumping 2step drums into Bmore breaks; B1 floats pitched-up vocal samples and misty-eyed rave chords, up and away; 2ON calls time with a wan club shuffle.
Ravishing black harmony roots; cheerfully apocalyptic, rhythmically swinging and buoyant, with bubbling horns and stripped dub. It’s a must.
Superb Caribbean disco by the same Trini bros behind the West End boogie classic Touch Your Life. Lithely grooving; expertly arranged.
Presumably the same Glen Miller who did Whey No Dead and How Can You Mend, for Studio One.
Vintage, discursive, witty-and-wise dancehall toasting by the Metro Media Sound deejay and Jammys trooper; originally released on his own imprint.
Super-heavyweight Aggrovators roots. Barry Brown at his very best; deadly, sombre horns; lethal Tubbys dub. Scorcher.
‘An extraordinarily lush, poignant collaboration… Bombscare bleeds mood, space, and texture as sounds ring out and echo into the distance. Hand So Small works like a literate lullaby as musical flourishes appear from thin air, a piano haunts the outskirts of the song, and Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker take turns singing about life “getting smaller.” So Easy (So Far) is perhaps the most traditional Low song, but Spring Heel Jack manages to make the band sound like they’re singing modern day Brothers Grimm tales. Way Behind is a stunning closer. It’s a truly exhilarating song that sounds like it was recorded in heaven, as Parker and Sparhawk again take turns singing angelically that they’ve left someone “way behind” over a jazzy electronic stew full of subtle found-sounds…
‘It’s too bad the collaborators didn’t compile an entire album’s worth of material, as these sixteen minutes seem magically fleeting. Bombscare couldn’t be a more superb collaboration between these innovative artists’ (AllMusic).
First reissue of the original release in 2000.
A set of five throbbing, twinkling, oscillating excursions on analogue synth. Cosmic but intriguingly personable. Have a listen!
Rrrrufff and gruff EP by the In Paradisum old boy. Better humoured, nervier and more reined-in for his long break. Ace.
‘The second of our odes to soundsystem culture. Logos back-burners the weightless sound for a minute and brings forward a chop-up laced with such tasty ingredients as the Bloom-era Aardvarck white labels, Shed’s Panamax Project and Wormhole-era Ed Rush and Optical.
‘To cap it off, Ossia delivers one of the heaviest remixes of the year. The ice-cold grime sensibilities of Eska infused with the militant sound of early Aba Shanti I on that Jah Lightning album.’
Four more contagiously skewed re-rubs from the mysterious maestros.
Mais Que Amor is a failsafe dancefloor re-animator, slinkily teasing out a screwed trap intro dotted with pitched vocals. Next level Next. Ride With Me is wild and bruk, with dirty south samples. Ize Kashmir keep things rolling for the heads-down crew on the flip, with its dank, bare-bones dub to close.