Damn Funk

Damn Funk. It's all in the name, rendering further description unnecessary. Yet the LA funk extraordinaire's sheer allure compels me to write on regardless.

I came to DF via Kyle Hall and Omar S (when he bigs someone up, I take heed, as it don't happen much), and when I stumbled upon a 2008 Deviation set on Benji B's soundcloud I was an instant convert.

The set is a masterpiece in how to rock a party, with the irrepressible dj's voice as integral a part of the mix as the rare and awesome boogie being laid down. A self proclaimed “first pressings only” vinyl set consisting of jaw dropping tunes which should be stone cold classics in an ideal and just world, it had my ass shakin despite my fragile hangover head.

If we are to believe his first pressings claim, the music played in this set alone could fetch a fine and dandy sum on discogs, like, enough to buy a new car probs, but collector envy aside, this is 1 hr 37 mins of sheer vibes.

One standout among standouts was Midnight Express' “Danger Zone”, which instantly went on my want list. And luckily the NY disco diggers at PPU repressed it a few years back, so I might be holding it in my very own arms sometime soon :)

Another joy was the was the way DF shouted out what the actual tunes were (a relief for furtive shazamers, like me). A 1983 Vaughan Mason jam on Salsoul Records was another discovery courtesy of these raucous shout-outs.

This set ain't for mixing pedants- it's rough and ready- but like a good Theo Parrish set say, set the tunes and energy ALWAYS prevail.

Dont be afraid of The Funk, y'all! x

Sparklehorse

Mark Linkous shot himself in the heart. There, I said it. Got it out of the way so I don't have to mention it again. As if.

Sadly, the 47 year old's self inflicted demise is inextricably bound to the freaky magnificence of his band, Sparklehorse. However, in as far as suicidal singer songwriters go, Linkous's output is almost uplifting. There is none of the scarcely contained fury, or caustic angst of Elliott Smith, say, in Likous's luminous legacy.

The tone of Sparklehorse can perhaps be best gauged by Linkous's fragile vocals. A cross between Wayne Coyne and a whisper, they float in and out of the mix, as if their source doesn't really care whether the words are audible or not. The effect is not so much hushed confessional as somnambulant mumble. 'The owls have been talking to me, but I'm bound to secrecy....If I had a home it'd be in a slide trombone' (Spirit Ditch) are just two of countless couplets that follow Linkous' typical dream logic lyrical style. If they signify anything, his lyrics point to a rueful acceptance of events, or simply fey escapism, tinged with occasional moments of hope. But it's never less than pretty.  Such nonchalance belies the often polished perfection of his four startlingly consistent albums as Sparklehorse.

Indeed, Linkous emerged from the punk scene (like Smith) with a melodic and emotional sensibility that confounded his roots. A skilled producer, with a gift for surreal imagery, Linkous could just as easily turn his hand to ambient moodscapes (Its A Wonderful Life) as SST channelling hardcore ( 'Tears On A Fresh Fruit' from Viva..) or even lo fi dream pop ('Saturday' also from Viva..).  The strength of his first album Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot won him a 1997 tour with Radiohead, and it's easy to see common ground between the intricate, thoughtful arrangements of Sparklehorse and Thom Yorke's output.

Unlike the often gritty realism of Radiohead and their (albeit oblique) political engagement, Sparklehorse's music floated above the everyday world of numbing routine, and even personal relationships in a solipsistic narcotic haze. Recalling the slowness of Low or East River Pipe, Sparklehorse inhabit a twilight world between waking and sleep.

The king is dead, long live the king.

L.I.E.S

Long Island Electrical Systems ( L.I.E.S ) have been causing a storm of late. The NY label headed by Ron Morelli are on a winning streak that looks in no danger of ending. Perhaps responsible in part for the current vogue for raw as fuck ( ghetto) house music, L.I.E.S are as interested in freaking people out, as with making posteriors shake.

The label features a host of previously unknown talents and a clear, if eclectic, style that is as much in debted to punk as it is to dance culture. It's this uncompromising stance which seems to be the only thing knitting such a diverse array of artists together; from the art school experiments of Bookworms or Torn Hawk to the unrelenting techno of Vapauteen or Delroy Edwards. You are as likely to hear modular synth workouts as brutally functional, murky floor music.

Despite the label's deep talent pool, the most important asset in L.I.E.S's arsenal is arguably Ron Morelli's phone book. The guy's obviously got tentacles far into various NY cultural pies, and to unite all these rough diamonds into a coherent whole is surely no mean feat.

Morelli recently claimed that, at the moment, he is selling everything he produces. The first pressings fly out the door as anyone trying to buy For Club Use Only first time round would surely testify. The desire for L.I.E.S vinyl reflects sales of the black stuff as a whole for 2012 which were up 16 percent. This also illustrates an appreciation among the public for genuinely underground 'outsider' dance music. No 'click in the box' exactitude here, just raw uncompromising noise.

L.I.E.S have made themselves the underground success story of the last few years. It's hard to believe that such raw and uncompromising music has found wide appeal. To listen to the jams of Delroy Edwards, one of the label's early stars, is to be almost assaulted with the sound of overdriven hardware, and raw ghetto energy.

In addition to this, L.I.E.S specialise in subtlety, too. Their releases often feature a strong sense of narrative and emotion, seen notably with Florian Kupfer's outstanding Lifetrax EP, or in the Tarifa EP, Torn Hawk's serrated masterpiece. Legowelt, one of the only 'big' names to release on the imprint, is another artist renowned for telling a story through sound. And it was perhaps his patronage that brought the label to wider audience initially.

The UK seems to have embraced LIES's output eagerly, and their ruggedly luminous aesthetic seems to have entered the zietgeist, with imprints such as White Materials, and Dixon's Avenue's Basement Jams, cropping up on a similar 'limited edition, hand stamped vinyl' tip. But whilst it's easy to dismiss this crop as 'scene kid stuff', these labels truly do live up to the hype: behind all the tape hiss and analogue adventures, lies (no pun intended), real substance.

In the endless stream of ephemera which constitutes much modern music, it is refreshing to see a label which pays no heed to convention and manages to churn out quality releases at a relentless pace.

Perhaps L.I.E.S will really make New York the capital of the dance scene once again, with Morelli and his all star phonebook commanding the same hushed tones as Rephlex or Holland's Bunker (Morelli cites the latter as a key influence).

I recently read of one L.I.E.S showcase in London where the writer had no clue as to what was played throughout the whole Svengalisghost set, yet the crowd were still absolutely captivated. And it's this sense of mystery (all the harder to maintain in the digital age), which makes L.I.E.S one of the most intruiging labels of recent times.

Reichenbach Falls

Sometimes music doesn't have to grab you by the throat to satisfy. It can please through sheer likeability, and comforting familiarity. Like how it feels to return home after a lengthy excursion.

Such could be said of Reichenbach Falls, whose wistful americana transmits a lovely warmth to a listener. Singer Abe Davies's close mic'd croon brings to mind Marc Eitzel of American Music Club but with an added edge of Ryan Adams's raspier throat strings. These names are those of alt.country royalty, and whilst the I'll Never Go Anywhere Without You EP is slight in comparison to the mighty discographies of the aforementioned acts, there are signs that this Oxford based act are capable of following a similar path.

The lovelorn country music which Reichenbach Falls tap into is nothing new, yet it's a style that when done well, is timeless. The familiar tropes of (unreachable) women, (self) pity, and (bar-stool) wisdom, are all alive and well. There are also the obligatory lashings of lap and pedal steel. The EP, as a whole, is saved from maudlin bad vibes, due to winningly lush production, and musical proficiency. In 'Risky', for example, ( sample lyric: 'I tell myself I like dejection, but I'm not sure I can take it any more') sprightly piano lines and a catchy as hell octave shifting lead guitar part etches the song firmly in the memory. While the song may document a poisoned relationship, none of the toxins make it through into the music itself. The whole affair is peculiarly uplifting, with a jaunty hoe-down style chorus, which has an uncanny ability to repeat on you when you're least expecting it (in a good way!).

Reichenbach Falls make heartache sound if not fun, at least very listenable. And these four tracks succeed in coming off as elegantly melancholic rather than stolidly cheesy, which is no mean feat in this genre, and a testament to the quality of the songwriting. While lyrically, the band aren't reinventing any wheels, the earnest narratives make an apt accompaniment to the undeniably gorgeous arrangements. 'The Best I Could', in particular, is a lovely lament featuring gilded guitar picking, and some great CSNY aping vocal harmonising in its coda. The EP rushes by and finishes with the quietly cinematic 'In The Wreckage', which dips its toes in more ambitious territory and comes out on top.

All told, its not hard to see Reichenbach Falls becoming popular, such is their persistent tunefulness. And I for one would love to see their tasteful take on country grace some of the UK festivals this summer. (End Of The Road organisers - if you are reading, The Garden Stage on Sunday would be ideal for this one!). A name to watch out for.

Live Report: Benji B @ Moles 26/4/13

While Bath's nightlife is unlikely to rival Berlin's anytime soon, Moles has got to be a contender (not that there's much competition) for being the Berghain of Bath. After a host of recent high profile bookings (Justin Martin, Eats Everything and Paul Woolford) the club is earning back respect among the partygoing denizens of Bath. Their recall night (which hosted Woolford) last night brought Benji B to the small but vibrant venue.

The all embracing underground electronic curator packed the newly renovated club, and there was a palpable feeling of excitement when his set began with Omar S and Ob Ignitt's modern classic Wayne County Hill Cops from last year. Admirably, Benji played this one out for all of its glorious seven minute duration. Instantly pointing his set in the right direction, this track with its taut razor sharp percussion and gorgeous analogue synth lines, had me going nuts.

His set never stayed still. It touched on a host of styles, notably the underground hip hop and grimy UK sounds for which he is renowned, but more interestingly, these were paired with canonical house tunes such as Mr Finger's 'Can You Feel It.'

The two hour (ish) set just flew by, and it was definitely a crowd pleasing selection from the Deviation boss. It's always good to hear Joy O's 'BRTHDTT' on a decent soundsystem (which Moles now has) despite its ubiquity. And needless to say, while the bottom end made my legs feel like jelly, the crowd  loved it, provoking the warmest reaction of the night. It was good to see that this tune is still capable of destroying dance floors, with those vocals and their anthemic power.

All in, it was a great and eclectic set, which definitely delivered. The mixing was accomplished and the dude looked like he was enjoying himself too. It was a delight to see a dj of Benji B's stature in an intimate environment, and his passion for the tunes he span was ever present.

The only slight disappointment was the sudden exodus after Benji B's set finished. The array of Recall resident djs, many of whom are on Bath Spa's music tech course, are a real asset to Moles. After watching Chubba demolish the same club a few months ago with his bass heavy selections I had high hopes. And the young resident who stepped up to the challenge of following the radio 1 man didn't disappoint.

The people who left early missed a solid set of house and techno rounded off beautifully with Brawther's 'Endless (UG mix)' a jazzy, and satisfyingly deep end to a great night of music.  

Machine Soul

Now everyone who knows me knows I don't do things by halves. When I get into something, that's it. And with music it usually means complete immersion i.e I won't listen to anything else. And so it's with utter headfirst abandon that I embraced the music of Detroit's Omar S. Pretty much the only thing I've been listening to in the van this week.

He makes hypnotic mind bending house and techno on his own FXHE imprint and is pretty much universally revered as a don of the scene. His compositions- on completely analogue equipment- are a masterclass in the strange and the beautiful. He specialises in intricately arranged, pounding  tech/ house with subtle builds and emotional heft.

When I first heard an Omar S track the immediate thing that struck was the repetition. Endless mechanical rhythms that seemed devoid of spirit, life. Yet on each repeated listen I discovered something new. A distant thudding kick or a crackling snare, buried in the mix. There is always more to hear with Alex Omar Smith.

The dude's got loads out there, but his Fabric 45 is a good place to start. It's fiercely synthetic and tight sounding, yet somehow manages to ooze soul and feeling too. On the best Omar tracks, he subtly layers melodies almost imperceptibly over monotonous thudding kicks. When his tracks build you feel it. And the best send an instant shiver down the spine, communicating feelings not usually associated with this kind of music. It's sensitive shit . Don't be put off by the machismo of the his titles (It Can Be Done But Only I Can Do It) or even the aloof visage Omar presents to the world. The man has soul, even if he don't want to shout about it.

This is just lovely; understated, pensive stuff from Omar, and I'm extremely hyped to be seeing him in Bristol on Sat. Be patient with 'Night', it's all about the build from the 5/6 min mark, and it definitely repays. Sheer beauty.

Also, kudos to Ocke the kid for putting this up, the internet is now a better place.

Musical Brain Training

“Dead leaves and the dirty ground, when I know you're not around.” White Blood Cell's opening couplet instantly transports me to teendom. Back to a time when hanging out on park benches smoking roll ups after school was the height of my ambition (not that I'm exactly an over-reacher now!). This album, and especially its crunchy opening few power chords, is a heady reminder for me of how music has the ability to capture the past. In a way redolent with feeling just like those 'dead leaves.'

Hearing The White Stripes on 6 music's 100 Greatest countdown today I realised that my formative musical years had run parallel with the years of 6 music's activity (2002- present). At the beginning of this period I was a wide eyed musical omnivore, passionately absorbing anything and everything I thought was cool, and hastily forming a half baked opinion on it. At the close of this period I'm still just as engaged with music, but now have to actively fight off the closed mindedness that comes with increasing years. The 'I know what I like and I'm sticking to it' syndrome. I do this by constantly putting myself out of my musical comfort zone. As an ardent indie head, whose favourite band was Wilco for about half a decade, I shouldn't really be listening to Rinse FM, yet I do. It's great, especially as its not so Grime based now. No Sunday is complete without T. Williams nowadays.

It may seem an obvious point, but I strongly believe that if you love one genre of music you can love several. I don't understand 'genre heads'. The energy of Jack White's scraggy blues guitar can find its equivalent in the seamless way Kieran Hebden (Four Tet) creates songs out of many disparate samples. Hebden's crate digging mentality can be seen as similar in essence to the archival worship of White. It's just passion for music. And this transcends genre.

Forgive me, I digress, what I wanted to do was to address the myth that you can't feel music as much as you do in early youth.

POINT 1= It's not the music that changes: it's YOU.

We have our most intense emotions when a teenager or young (wo)man, so our relationship with music is naturally going to be a passionate one, too. It's inevitable that any soundtrack to the halcyon days of a long distant past where everything was ALL NEW AND EXCITING is going to be one fondly treasured. But it isn't that the music was somehow better back then, it's just that you were perhaps more receptive to it, more open minded. And let's face it, the song you listened to when you first got laid is gonna be hard to top. It's not the music it's YOU!

POINT 2 = When music gets boring TRY SUMMAT NEW

It may not be possible to recreate the thrill felt when first hearing The Strokes' Is This It at that party where you got your mum's key cut, but you can try different genres and get a kick out of their alien vitality. When you think British Sea Power have run their course, why not try listening to some ambient techno. This may seem like an absurd statement, but why not? Why should they be mutually exclusive? Clubs are for toffs and elitists. Someone I know listens to Radio 3 on his way to work but on a Friday night is most likely found dancing to pitch black drum and bass. Why the fuck not?

There is something good in every genre. And I'm not trying to be all 'look at my GENUINELY eclectic music taste, ain't I cool?' I'm merely stating what I see as a fact. There is good shit out there under many different guises and forms. Do not limit yourself to what's deemed cool, or what you're familiar with.

The music of your youth sticks with you like none other as it reminds you of a time when you were experiencing things for the first time. It was fresh. And only if you get stuck in a genre rut does music become stale. It's us that becomes stale. So stop the stasis. Interrupt the inertia, and just listen to new things. Music evolves by itself, yet we have the option whether to stay a closed minded curmudgeon, or to embrace the new.

SUMMARY

In adult life our appreciation of music may be less visceral and immediate than when we were a pheromone charged youth, but through trying different genres and styles we can get our teenage kicks back.