Patrick Sisson - Writer, Journalist, Cultural Documentarian, Music Lover

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EQ
September 2009
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Only one sample appears on Temporary Pleasure: Todd Rundgren triumphantly singing “I was born to synthesize” on top of churning layers of modular synthesizer melodies. As far as statements of purpose go, it’s a fitting one for Jas Shaw and James Ford of British duo Simian Mobile Disco. Their 2007 debut Attack Decay Sustain Release and collaboration with Justice, “We Are Your Friends” (with their previous band, Simian), made them the prodigies of the late ’00s synth-heavy electro-house scene. Their follow-up finds them moving toward more hands-on construction and composition of synthetic sound.

“We haven’t been into that noisy electro thing for awhile,” Shaw says. “In the shadow of Justice, whom we like, there seemed to be a lot of bands copying and completely missing the musicality, melody, and chords. A lot of the stuff aping them concentrates on the noisiness.”

The duo’s experience playing in techno clubs informed the tight, spacious sound of Temporary Pleasure [Wichita], recorded in the duo’s recently renovated East London, Pro Tools HD2 and Mac G5-based studio. But their minimalist approach was a challenge.

“You have to choose what you do very carefully, as everything is exposed,” Ford says. “We’re into the idea of using fewer elements but making each element really strong, not piling on loads of shit.”
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Music Review
XLR8R
September 2009
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8.0

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Filled with buoyant beats, 8-bit shoot-outs, and pastel-funky melodies, Mary Anne Hobbs’ latest compilation contains everything you’d expect from the British tastemaker’s broadcast, minus her ecstatic voiceovers. Connecting different strata of bass music, Hobbs showcases some of its more colorful, glittering strains, including Gemmy’s “Rainbow Road” and Nosaj Thing’s “IOIO,” both breezy, neon gems. Gradually raising and lowering the energy level, Hobbs bookends Wild Angels with Marc Pritchard’s dark and desolate “?” and an unexpectedly folksy Sunken Foal track before signing off with Legion of Doom’s frazzled “And Now We Wait.” Following on the heels of Alexander Nuts’ excellent, stuttering Rinse mix, Hobbs manages the delicate task of balancing the light and dark, not letting heavyweight dub pull down her more airy selections. It’s impossible to replicate the impact of Warrior Dubz (her first mix for Planet Mu), but Hobbs curates an impressive overview of a scene she helped foment.

Music Review
XLR8R
September 2009
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7.0

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Dubby musical explorations don’t require a full payload of bass. Nudge isn’t strictly dub by any means, but the group’s slow-burning electro-acoustic tracks often have that billowy feel associated with shacks-turned-studios in Jamaica. On their fourth album, the band plays with ambient sound and space and abuses delay pedals to create textured, coldly mesmerizing music. Dark tones and unraveling narratives ground these often buoyant tracks. “Two Hands” stretches out hushed drums and stringy guitar, later floating off into a sea of muted organ, bass tones and Honey Owens’ far-away crooning. “Burns Blue” has a sinister-yet-breezy swagger, while “Dawn Comes Light” slowly crescendos as a spark of a guitar line turns into a conflagration of noise that consumes itself. Organic and ever-evolving, this music is anything but audio wallpaper.

Music Review
XLR8R
August 2009
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7.0

cd sian alice group

The rock aesthetes in Sian Alice Group have a fetish for tones and textures, from electronic pulses and Velvets-like riffs to scratched guitar strings, which they tweak, layer, and slowly fade throughout their songs. Much of the London group’s sparse music floats by effortlessly without much rhythmic variation, yet it still leaves a strong sonic imprint. On Troubled, the band’s hip eclecticism results in more hybrids, like the spy-thriller techno pulse of “Vanishing,” the slow-burning minimalism of “Love That Moves the Sun,” and the cold, expansive title track. Singer Sian Ahern is still hard to read, switching between pastoral softness and bluesy outbursts but never fully emoting. A similar sheen coats this album, cool and detached yet slightly smoldering.

Music Review
XLR8R
July 2009
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7.5

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It’s been a more than a decade since Oneida dropped its debut, but this Brooklyn collective’s unshackled, invigorating psychedelic rock has only become more vital, splitting into sections both refined and carefree. Rated O—a triple album, the second in a planned triptych—seemingly begs for quality control. Oneida’s jams and circuit-bending riffs aren’t always revelatory, but the trip proves worthwhile. Disc One starts with the brusque, suborbital soundclash of “Brownout in Lagos” and continues to grind and buzz, building towards the fractured release of “The Human Factor” and the second disc’s freak-outs and stoner haze. By Disc Three, which exudes a cosmic vibe, it’s clear that Oneida is still cutting interesting paths in multiple directions. They should always have this much space to stretch out.


Music Review
XLR8R
June 2009
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7.0

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Retrofitting the results of jam sessions and distilling them into bracing minimal beats, Marco Freivogel and Ingo Gansera create lively, long-form riffs on techno. In Cars We Rust doesn’t meddle with jazz or big beat, instead trafficking in cold, metallic shades of sound and crisp percussion. “It’s Happening Again” grinds through build-ups and breakdowns, a buzzing melody creeps across the slightly dissociative “Drunken Tinman,” and “1994” contains a downtempo shuffle and bubbly synths that almost recall a sedated take on “Rez.” The live studio concept allows the duo to quickly pivot within songs or play around with rhythms, making a convincing case that these producers need to be seen live.

Music Review
XLR8R
May 2009
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9.0

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The term of the moment is “wonky,” but when it comes to Alexander Nut’s superb blend of urban beats, it’s all about soul, swing, and a distinctly contemporary kind of swagger. The mix starts off in the sunshine poolside, glowing under the warm rays exuded by tracks like Marco Polo’s “Relax.” But the reflection in the infinity pool gets more refracted and strange as the album progresses, leisurely shifting between raw, slightly disorienting electro beats from hip-hop’s razor edge and oversized U.K. basslines distilled from dub’s massive echoes. Nut never wavers, and seems to find new potential in the thick, unwieldy basslines he strings together. Terms don’t matter when the sum is greater than it’s already impressive parts.

Music Review
XLR8R
July 2009
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7.5

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Stephen Wilkinson’s latest Bibio disc blends together many of the disparate strands that now comprise Warp Records, so it’s fitting that he’d drop it on the label’s 20th anniversary. It’s even more impressive that his production sounds fresh despite fitting squarely within a style—dope beats, funky samples, warm textures—that’s bulky and bloated with cut-rate copies. Perhaps it’s because his electro-acoustic tracks are eclectic without being scattershot, ably switching from the glitchy backbeats of “Fire Ant” to the smooth, summery groove of “Lovers’ Carvings.” And poignant tracks like “Abrasion” and “The Palm of Your Wave” show he’s not just flirting with folk. Wilkinson has taken a sonic palette that’s been muddled by many and created a quiet gem.

Music Review
Pitchfork
September 2009
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5.6

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Getting called a virtuoso or mad scientist comes with some heavy baggage for a musician, so it says a lot about Tom Jenkinson, who records as Squarepusher, that he’s been repeatedly labeled as both. Getting tagged with these contradictory stereotypes– a classically trained workhorse mastering the canon versus an improvisational, intemperate tinkerer dismantling the rules– goes a long way toward describing the Warp mainstay’s musical output. He can sound technically brilliant and wickedly provocative at times, whether it’s with restless, distended breakbeat patterns, buoyant bass-heavy fusion excursions, or airy combinations of these and other styles. And on his new album, in a gesture that could be a challenge in both senses of the word, he merely plugs in his bass and lets his playing speak for itself.

And bass, unaltered and without digital delay or effects, it definitely all you’ll hear, whether it’s delicate melodic progressions, arpeggiated chords or spitfire runs up the fretboard. While Jenkinson’s skillful playing, the vital pulse of tracks like “Cooper’s World” from Hard Normal Daddy or “Circlewave 2” from Hello Everything, has earned serious plaudits and a shout-out from Flea, it may be slightly surprisingly to hear how classically oriented some of the songs on Solo Electric Bass 1 are. Granted, he claims to have taught himself classical guitar at age 10, but the elegant, breakneck playing on tracks like “S.E.B. 6” resembles that of a Spanish guitarist, and “S.E.B. 5” is a rubbery, staccato splatter of notes that belies the thickness of bass strings. Hyperactive “S.E.B. 8” showcases Jenkinson’s antsy side, bouncing between slap-happy antics and more slow and soulful passages. As the naming convention and out-of-order tracks suggest, the songs blend into each other. It creates an album weighed toward showcasing masterful execution that leaves a pretty muted general impression. Unless you’re predisposed toward technical prowess and solo bass recordings, it’s probably going to come off as more of a clinic than a collection of great songs.

In a 2006 XLR8R interview with Pitchfork contributor Mark Pytlik, Jenkinson spoke of avoiding the “music for musicians” tag. A limited-edition solo bass album recorded live at a Paris theater– just one musician, one amp, and a six-string– might appear pretty musician-friendly, leaning heavily toward virtuosic self-satisfaction. A large part of Jenkinson’s fanbase isn’t going to rush out to purchase uncut and unfiltered bass noodling, unless they were hoping for some intriguing digital manipulation or that the Loveless-esque cover was meant as a strong visual clue. But don’t start with the simplistic slap bass/”Seinfeld” theme jokes without considering what these tracks say about Jenkinson’s process and procedure. There’s a reason the audience gets enthusiastic during this 12-song set. Jenkinson is technically one hell of a bass player. Perhaps by playing it straight, he’s playing with people’s definitions of what does and doesn’t constitute musical skill in a digital world or merely showing off his own ridiculous abilities. For an artist known for restlessness and provocations, this may be a “mature” way to fuck with expectations.

Music Review
Pitchfork
August 2009
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5.0

esser

Modern life can be rubbish. Or so says Esser, an English electro-pop troubadour who sports a flattop that’s vintage mod (or exaggerated Jordan Knight). Despite a nonchalant delivery and mostly sunny melodies, he seems down. On opener “Leaving Town”, he says, “It feels like I’m drowning, so I threw my mobile in the sea.” On the cartoonish chorus of the title track, he suggests putting on a brave face when the morning comes, and if that little affirmation doesn’t see you through the day, attach a brick to your legs and jump into a lake. By track three, he doesn’t mince words: “I’ve got a problem, it’s called living.”

With a musical bent towards bouncy melodies and eclectic instrumentation, Ben Esser’s debut album of fractured pop is still more muddled than sharp. The dark undercurrents in some of his songs make sense. He’s often namechecking 1960s British producer Joe Meek, a skilled yet paranoid artist known for both his tragic demise, a shotgun murder/suicide in 1967, and his ramshackle audio experimentation on hit singles such as “Telstar”. Esser seems to aspire to create conceptual pop– not sure if his matching good and bad neck tattoos are commentary on the duality of man or just fashionable ink. But where Meek literally experimented with found sounds and production gear, Esser plays with established techniques and toys to no singular effect.

Pop singers certainly don’t need to reinvent music production to be gripping, but Esser’s debut doesn’t strain or stretch creative boundaries or hit that perfect balance between playful and experimental in the same way that contemporaries like Micachu and the Shapes do. “Leaving Town” and the title track coast by pleasantly enough, with horns or synth flourishes dressing up run of the mill beats. “Stop Dancing” is a Streets-like meditation on getting fucked up in the club, and single “Headlock” rolls by with bulbous beats and warped synths before ending in a pool of squeaks and sound effects. While he shows some skill at the kitchen-sink approach to pop experimentation, perfecting it is far from simple.

Esser’s lyrics, often delivered in a sub-Damon Albarn style, swing towards self-deprication, though they can sound ham-fisted and ring hollow. Take a track like “I Love You”, where love can be dangerous like a fire in your kitchen– a grease fire of passion? He even adds that “love is no excuse for bad art,” a line no singer should ever serve up with a straight face. “Satisfied” sways with staccato piano and stock phrases like, “You know it’s hard to please a woman/ She’ll put you on your knees and make you cry,” and originals like, “You know a man can never win/ Even if you buy her all the shoes.” Esser needs to tweak the formula a bit, though Cee-Lo has reportedly enlisted him to do production on his solo album, so he’ll get plenty of opportunities. Esser has also said artists don’t do their best work until three albums in. Time to buckle down, book some studio time, and put on that brave face.