Diplo Blow Your Head: Diplo Presents Dubstep Review

Blow Your Head proves dubstep’s commercial and underground tribes can still intermingle.

Louis Pattison 2010-11-17

By now, you surely know Diplo: Philadelphia-born DJ/producer Thomas Wesley Pentz, onetime squeeze of M.I.A. and purveyor of a DJ style that mashes together local genres with an ear for the dancefloor, not the chin-strokers. It should be no surprise, then, that Pentz has locked onto dubstep, which is currently enjoying its moment in the sun as an honestly mainstream UK dance style following several years of incubation and gradual experimentation.
With their bracing bass wobbles and cracking snares, modern dubstep warriors like Skream and Rusko boast a similarly visceral appeal to Diplo’s other genres of choice, dancehall, rap and baile funk. An opening brace of tracks proves his commitment to the energetic end of the dancefloor: a Skream remix of Major Lazer’s Hold the Line and the harsh mid-range wobble of DZ’s Down, while pretty hard-hitting in themselves, are mere aperitifs before the wrecking ball that is Diplo’s U Don’t Like Me, featuring Dirty South shouter Lil Jon.
If this is all starting to sound a bit like being battered around the cranium for 45 minutes, it’s pleasing to report that Blow Your Head recognises the merit of an occasional gear-change. The glimmering melodies of Zomby’s Strange Fruit and Brackles’ hypnotic, driving Glazed offer some tranced-out respite, while later, current future bass wunderkind James Blake makes a couple of showings – first, with his loping, dubby remix of Untold’s Stop What You’re Doing, then with his own Sparing the Horse, a cut-up of sing-song vocals and seasick synths. Diplo’s approach serves best to display that much of the talk about a fissure in dubstep – drooling club bangers on one side, sophisticated future sounds on the other – is rather overplayed.
True, it is debatable that we need more mixes with Cockney Thug on in late 2010. But Blow Your Head proves the two tribes can still intermingle, and both are still making winning records: see this mix’s closer, Rusko’s Hold On. It’s a fusion of dizzy fairground builds, pneumatic bass and yearning vocals from Dirty Projectors’ Amber Coffmann that suggests you can still do wobblers with tunes and subtlety.

Shackleton Fabric 55 Review

BBC Review

A bold and galvanising mix of mostly previously unreleased material.

Chris Power 2010-12-06

Describing his process for losing himself in music, Sam Shackleton recently explained that the traditional kick and snare pattern disrupts his immersion in sound, "and it takes me a long time to build up to this state". That’s one reason why you won’t find any boilerplate boom-tish on his Fabric mix, which uses 22 tracks of his own unreleased and rearranged material to approximate his occasional sets at the London club. What you will find, along with a lot of off-beats, is an inexorable build through states of drama, tension and, occasionally, release. This is, in the best possible way, an enveloping and suffocating experience.
Shackleton, born in Lancashire and now resident in Berlin, is the most intriguing producer who emerged from the mid-00s period when dubstep was first finding popularity beyond its founding cliques. His defunct Skull Disco label (co-founded with Appleblim) forged a key link between dubstep and techno, and helped clear a lane for the two-way traffic of artists like Shed, Untold, Monolake and Scuba. The iconic Skull Disco record is Ricardo Villalobos’s epic remix of Blood On My Hands, Shackleton’s brooding response to 9/11.
Shackleton’s own music from that period owed a debt to the 1980s and 90s work of Mancunian producer Muslimgauze. That influence persists in the liberal use of goblet drum percussion and the muezzin-like flavour of certain vocal samples, but the more Shackleton produces the more he sounds only like himself. That’s why, rather than being just another mix CD, Fabric 55 feels like a full-blown successor to his 2009 album (perversely titled Three EPs) on Perlon.
This is confirmed by the fact that its strongest sections comprise new material. Following the quivering pulses of bass driving 2006’s Hypno Angel, the mix runs through an extraordinary sequence of previously unreleased productions: Visontele reprocesses vintage techno stabs as aquatic bass blurts, Blood Rhythm with Wishy Drones throws a popping beat above desolate pads that are overrun by the digital screech, sustained organ chords and glimmering sci-fi tones of Operatic Waves, before the growling sub-bass of Closeness to Nature rolls the mix into a new phase.
Fabric 55 is so well programmed that these miniature movements aren’t immediately discernible. When one does become apparent, it’s as if the album shifts into a new form to be freshly enjoyed. Its moments of light – the minimalist dancehall organ stabs on International Fires – and dark – the eerily uninflected biblical quotations on penultimate track Massacre – are emblematic of its overall effect: bold and galvanising.

Buju Banton ‘Til Shiloh Review

A very listenable landmark from a controversial figure in Jamaican music.

Angus Taylor 2010-10-26

Buju Banton remains one of Jamaica’s best known and most controversial figures: earning the love of millions for his music and the consternation of others for his youthful lyrical content and alleged criminal misdeeds. A huge source of the former sentiment was 1995 fourth album ‘Til Shiloh, which saw the brash "rockstone" deejay turn dreadlocked throwback while retaining his ghetto pass.
Banton had begun to move from gun lyrics towards Rastafari as early as 1993 when his friends Panhead and Dirtsman were killed in their native Spanish Town. His response was the single Murderer – over Donovan "Penthouse" Germain’s relick of the Far East rhythm – one of the standouts on this disc. Yet more striking is the deeply moving rumination Untold Stories, placing Buju’s soulful chanting atop Glen Browne's acoustic guitar and Handel Tucker's faint synth-wash. Even card-carrying haters of his prior output could not help but be stirred by its sincere, gritty charms.
The Maroon-descended Banton celebrates his African lineage, but the marketing of ‘Til Shiloh as "Buju channels Bob" misleads. Dancehall had never forgotten vintage rhythms and previous album Voice of Jamaica (1993) had already featured righteous themes. After the revolutionary first act of Shiloh, much of the record (Only Man on Dave "Madhouse" Kelly’s Arab Attack riddim and the Steelie and Cleevie creation It’s All Over) is hard dancehall in character. The lyrics to Champion, offering to take a fine lady to a "promised land" over Germain’s transformed Cus Cus, perfectly match its hybrid beats.
As with later Buju albums it feels just a tad too long and the heavily-produced if still basic digital rhythms of the early 90s are a far cry from the slick yet more organic productions of today. Nonetheless, this is a very listenable landmark, which reminds us that while lyrical topics may differ, musically, reggae is one.

Various Artists: The Sound Of Siam. Leftfield Luk Thung, Jazz and Molam from Thailand 1964 -1975 Review

BBC Review

A mixture of the exotic and the familiar, drawing on off-beat influences. Jon Lusk 2010-12-06

If Thailand’s music was as popular internationally as its food, we’d all be a lot more familiar with it. But even compared to that from other Asian nations – which are generally under-represented in the world music market – it’s pretty obscure. This compilation of luk thung (Thailand’s answer to country music), luk krung (its city cousin) and molam (a more rootsy style from the poor northern region of Isan, near the border with Laos) will thus come as a surprise for many. And an intriguing one, at that. It’s the mixture of the exotic and the familiar that makes it so. While the frequent use of guitar, bass, keyboards and kit drums betrays the influence of the soul, rock and psychedelia of the time, the strange tonal nature of the Thai languages and the use of several local folk instruments, and their odd harmonies make it sound quite distinct. These include the sor fiddle and the khaen, a kind of bamboo mouth organ, often heard in the introductions and tooting away in the backgrounds of many tracks. As compiler Chris Menist remarks in his liner notes, some of this music has an uncanny similarity to the Ethio-jazz of Mulatu Astatqé. That’s partly because it was made in the same era, and draws on similarly off-beat Latin influences. Even so, it’s not as accessible. Chaweewan Dumnern is referred to as the "queen of molam" and her pulsing cut Lam Toey Chaweewan seems to echo Booker T & the MGs… until you hear her sinuous vocal. But that definitely is the riff from The Rolling Stones’ Jumpin’ Jack Flash running through her Sao Lam Plearn. Although a previous likening of the Petch Phin Thong Band to an "oriental Stone Roses" is rather fanciful, given the looseness of the rhythm section (strong drugs, mate, can I have some?), their instrumental Soul Lam Plearn is entertaining. As is another instrumental by Thong Huad and Kunp’an, which is based around a gnawing sor solo. The "space-age music" of The Viking Combo Band features a Pink Panther-esque walking bass line, suspenseful percussion and increasingly unhinged vocals. And yes, this being music from a truly gastrocentric culture, there are two songs referencing Thailand’s fiery cuisine – som tam papaya salad and tom yum chicken, in case this is making you hungry. A balanced diet, naturally. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Licence. If you choose to use this review on your site please link back to this page.

Seu Jorge & Almaz Review

BBC Review "Seu Jorge’s likeable latest mixes English language covers and Brazilian favourites." Jon Lusk 2010-09-28 Although he’s a huge star in Brazil, and has made an impact abroad with a string of acting roles since 2002’s City of God, Seu Jorge the musician (aka Jorge Mário da Silva) seems to send out mixed messages. He’s into samba and rock, but also likes to sing well-known pop songs in both heavily accented English and Portuguese, most notably a whole album of Lusophone David Bowie covers for The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Almaz is the band that came together to record a song for Walter Salles’ film Linha de Passe in 2008. They include two members of manguebeat (mangue bit) pioneers Nação Zumbi – drummer Pupillo and guitarist Lucio Maia – as well as bass player Antonio Pinto, and Seu Jorge’s trademark baritone croonings. Apparently they got on so well they then made a whole album, each member choosing their favourite songs from Brazil and abroad – both well-known and obscure. Courtesy of producer Mario C, Almaz have a stripped-down but luminously psychedelic sound that’s far more spacious and considerably more, um, groovy than the band Seu Jorge used on his last album, América Brazil O Disco. Naturally it has much in common with Zumbi, although they don’t go as far as using the pounding alfaia drums of maracatu (one of north-eastern Brazil’s most popular folk rhythms) so beloved of that band. Of the four songs in English, the least interesting is the flaccid cover of the Michael Jackson hit Rock With You. More surprising and successful is the relocation of Kraftwerk’s The Model to what sounds like an echo chamber somewhere underneath São Paulo. Roy Ayers’ Everybody Loves the Sunshine is well suited to Jorge’s lubricious tones, and best of all is Girl You Move Me, originally performed by French 70s soul/funk outfit Cane & Able, and here given a cavernous, dub-flavoured treatment. The Brazilian material kicks off with an atmospheric take on Jorge Ben’s Errare Humanum Est, suggesting one of Ennio Morricone’s more restrained spaghetti western themes. Other highlights include a tropicalismo-influenced take on Paio Joao, by little-known early-70s psych rockers Tribo Massahi, and a snappy space-rock version of Dorival Caymmi’s Cala Boca, Menina. But it’s the band itself that is the real point. The chemistry they have together is abundantly obvious, and this is Seu Jorge’s most likeable effort to date. Let’s hope they make another record together.