The fifth in a series of interviews with artists who collaborated with Daft Punk on the enigmatic duo’s forthcoming, highly anticipated Random Access Memories LP, this video features Animal Collective bandmate Panda Bear talking about his history with the French outfit and how he came to contribute to the new album. After he giving a bit of background on his appreciation of Daft Punk, the artist born Noah Lennox tells the story of how he was asked to go to Paris, was sat infront of a microphone in the duo’s studio, and was then told, “Okay, do something good.” We’ll likely have to wait until May 21 to hear exactly what was created out of the collaboration, but Panda Bear’s interview can be watched before then, courtesy of The Creators Project, below.
Controversial musical figure and tireless internet firebrand Zomby has announced that his next album will be a double-disc offering called With Love, which is set to arrive this summer via 4AD. The anonymous artist’s new record comprises 33 tracks spread across two CDs or three LPs (an increasing trend, it would seem), and is said to “move seamlessly between the dancefloor and after-hours emotional introspection, serving as a love letter to the soulful dance music of his past.” Though no tracklist was released with Zomby’s announcement, he did share the album’s artwork (above) and one of its never-before-heard tunes, the booming and eerie “Soliloquy.” “W I T H L O V E,” a track which appeared online at the beginning of this month, is expected to be on the album, too. Before Zomby releases his new record on June 18, “Soliloquy” can be streamed in the player below.
There was quite a ripple on the internet last week when iconic beatmaker Madlib took to Twitter and Facebook to announce that he was listening to the test pressing of an LP by his Quasimoto alter-ego, called Yessir Whatever. Numerous subsequent speculations arose, unquestionably because it’s been about eight years since the SoCal producer’s rabid fans have heard any new material from the helium-voiced bad character. Thankfully, everyone can rest easy today, as we now have the details of what exactly Yessir Whatever is. As it says on the Stones Throw website, “Yessir Whatever collects 12 tracks made by Madlib and Quasimoto over a roughly 12-year period. A few were released on rare and out-of-print vinyl, while a few others are previously unreleased, now mixed and mastered for the first time… [The] LP and CD come with a peel-off cover sticker revealing Quasimoto’s guts; LP [comes] with bonus 7″ single [featuring featuring “Hittin Hooks” and “Microphone Mathematics Remix”].” The release date for Quasimoto’s latest offering is June 18, but before then, fans can dive into a lot more details here, and check out the tracklist and an appropriately dusty new tune called “Planned Attack” below.
01 Broad Factor 02 Seasons Change 03 The Front 04 Youngblood 05 Astronaut 06 Planned Attack 07 Brothers Can’t See Me 08 Catchin’ the Vibe 09 Am I Confused? 10 Sparkdala 11 Green Power 12 LAX to JFK
The fuzzy tones of overdriven cassette tapes have become a calling card for a certain sect of bedroom producers in recent years, but few can trace their affinity for the sound to such a distinct source as Andrew Morrison (a.k.a. The Cyclist). “[At a certain point,] I had started to listen to a lot of mixes that had been recorded from pirate-radio stations onto cassette,” explains Morrison, who’s currently a second-year pharmacology student based in Liverpool. “Then, when I listened to the actual tracks that were played—the high-quality WAV files—I didn’t like it as much as I did those distorted copies. I loved that sound and it inspired me so much.” Given this, Bones in Motion—The Cyclist’s first proper LP and the inaugural artist-album release for the new Leaving/Stones Throw partnership—makes perfect sense. Across its 15 tracks, Morrison presents his image of house and techno, one filled with the hiss, noise, and distortion which result from oversaturated tape.
At the age of 13 or 14, the Irish-born Morrison began playing around with the four-track cassette recorder his older brother had purchased, and from there, his experiments in production began. Eventually, he started using computer programs as well, bouncing his tape experiments and samples back and forth between cassette and computer, eventually yielding an early body of work that did not make it into the hands of many. “Only my brother ever heard them,” the producer says of almost all of his tracks before 2011. “He is five years older than me, and he would go off to university and I’d tell him I was going to come up with an hour-long piece that would be made from whatever noises I could find around the house,” explains Morrison. “And I’d just try to make it as interesting and sprawling as possible.”
Citing classic Chicago house and recordings of the city’s legendary WBMX radio station as a major influence, Morrison began working on what would eventually become The Cyclist project. On a whim, he sent off demos to a few labels and blogs, including Matthewdavid’s Leaving imprint and the Altered Zones-contributing Get off the Coast blog (now operating as Decoder), whose affiliated tape label, Crash Symbols, got back to him just a bit sooner and quietly issued The Cyclist’s first release a few months later, the Bending Brass cassette. The 2011 release provided an initial glimpse into Morrison’s refracted dance-music creations, one that was ultimately a bit more experimental than his album that would follow, but was still very much marked by the broken fuzz of hazy, tape-processed textures.
After Bending Brass‘ release, Morrison began working on what would become Bones in Motion, his recent LP for the LA-based Leaving imprint. Although many of the samples buried in the record’s adventurous tracks had existed on tapes and in hard drives for years, the process of working on the album took around a year, with Morrison mostly finding time to work on music late at night after having attended to everything else being a pharmacology student requires. “I usually work in the evening and at night,” tells Morrison. “There are times when I’ve come home drunk and woken up the next day to a very oddly named track on the computer that sounds quite interesting.” He says his process has not changed much since the days of his earlier experiments, with the elements of his songs constantly bouncing between tape and Ableton Live, though he now has two four-track tape machines at his disposal. “I never had much equipment, but I’ve used it the best I could,” he says somewhat proudly before pointing out, “I have more four tracks than I have drum machines, samplers, or FX.”
According to Morrison, the order the tracks appear on Bones in Motion is largely the order he finished making them (with the exception of “Sleeping,” a song he says he put together at the age of 15). The record is largely split into two sections, its first half exploring more vibrant and melodious productions—although they’re still imbued with heavy doses of fuzzy tape processing—while the record’s latter half dives into more brooding territory. “I wanted to have a positive, more dreamy side to the first half of the album, and then shift it into darker elements as the record went on,” explains Morrison, “Sort of a day-and-night thing.” The bright chords and harmonious vocal chops of songs like “Mangel” and the spacey, Lone-reminiscent “Makeshift” appear early on, representing the LP’s more inviting offerings, while tracks like “The March,” “Dusty,” and “Visions” (which first appeared as the standout track on Leaving’s Dual Form compilation) provide the darker balance, letting the masses of distortion and disintegrated textures take over as forceful drums and metallic percussion push below.
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Until recently, The Cyclist has been only a recording project, but with the release of Bones in Motion, Morrison has begun to take his productions into the live arena. Last month, he briefly toured the UK with Matthewdavid and Diva, and seems pleased with his first run of shows. While the lumpy textures and experimental tendencies of his work may not make it the most club-friendly fare, Morrison thinks audiences have gotten it so far, and he’s encouraged to continue molding his live set. “I just like the idea of people being able to sit down and get in a head space, or even fall asleep to my music, but also to be able to dance like crazy to it if they’d like.”
Looking ahead, The Cyclist has a 12″ for the Spanish Apnea label due sometime in July or August, but has no more concrete releases set beyond that, though Morrison says he has plenty of completed productions in his arsenal and would eventually like to put out more music with Leaving. Since the making of Bones in Motion, he says he’s finally bought a proper microphone (before, he was only using a guitar tuner that happened to have a mic attached to it) for his real-world sampling, and has started using more outboard FX in his process, mainly a new tape-echo unit which has made its way into much of his more recent work. “I think it’s pretty different,” Morrison says of the tracks he’s made since completing his debut LP. “It’s still pretty dancey and housey, but I’m coming up with more of a distorted reverb, tape-echo-swashed sound that I hope should be interesting.” At this point, it seems rather likely that it will be.
Leeds-based artist Liston has been busy working with nascent London label XVI on its brand-new compilation, a 10-track offering which features the likes of Bambooman, My Panda Shall Fly, Will Ward, and a handful of other likeminded producers. While “All On You” is a one-off single not featured on that record, it nonetheless carries the same deep, spacey vibes as many of its tracks. Soulful elements like sensual vocals, jazzy handclaps, and a velvety bassline make “All On You” fitting for an array of late-night rendezvous, as does much of XVI Records: Volume Two – Imitating Life, all of which can be heard after the jump.
In the small but respectable discography which precedes Slava‘s debut LP, Raw Solutions, the Moscow-born, Chicago-reared, and now NYC-based producer has shown an affinity for operating in the undefined territory between a variety of genres. A raw take on hardware-born house holds a prominent position at the base of his work, but touches of footwork, cosmic disco, and sprawling new age have certainly found their way into his productions as well. While this genre ambiguity may have served him well on his shorter outings, when it’s spread across 12 tracks, it makes for a debut album that sounds underdeveloped and often aimless.
To its credit, Raw Solutions starts off on the right foot. The album’s lead track, “Werk,” is an interesting exercise in 130-bpm house, one built around piling horn stabs, dry tom hits, and cascading bell chords. Soon after, “Girl Like Me” and “I Know” deliver solid efforts; both are loosely based on the tempo and drum programming of footwork, but their rhythms are infused with a calm movement, courtesy of some cool chords and tasteful vocal snippets. Add the half-time bounce of “Heartbroken” to the aforementioned tracks and we’ve essentially run through the album’s highlights—all of which appear in its first four offerings.
“Girls on Dick” is the first track to signal Raw Solutions‘ eventual demise. A production as crass as its title suggests, “Girls on Dick” strives to be a foreboding slice of jukey ghettotech, but ends up sounding simply limp and uninspired, especially when topped with the unfortunate vocal refrain from which the song derives its title and an incessantly repeating sample of a Lil’ Wayne-esque “Ch’yeah.” Later in the album, Slava uses similar combinations of bizarre, sexually charged vocal samples and rigid sonics to the same effect, namely on “On It”—which uses the same “Girls on Dick” vocal sample, minus the “Girls”—and “How U Get That,” both of which make for disappointing outings. Even with “Hold On” and “Crazy Bout U”—two songs which harken back to the record’s more successful first half—filling the space between these more crude cuts, the latter part of Slava’s album frequently sounds like missed opportunities and extraneous filler.
Still, Raw Solutions closes with a glimpse of hope. The four-minute “Wit U” resolves the record with a gorgeous, beatless composition that wraps stuttering chords and entrancingly active vocal manipulations around one another, ultimately offering the album’s most immersive listen. If only Slava had focused on the highlights and cut the weaker numbers from his debut LP, he might have had a rather strong EP to share.
This week, East Coast producer The Range released his Seneca EP via Donky Pitch, and we’re following that up today with the premiere of his video for “PS3,” a tune steeped in lush melodies, crisp snares, and rapidfire vocal touches. When we posted a remix of the track by fellow Astro Nautico affiliate Obey City earlier this month, we picked up on a certain level of introspectiveness inherent with the music, a notion that rings true on the visuals for “PS3.” Opening simply enough with an email draft outlining philosophical thoughts on the genesis of the universe, the piece soon cascades through browser tabs and windows before landing in a digitized world—or the Unity environment, created by the good folks at 404FOREVER—where the viewer is confronted with pixelated avatars and existential questions about the increasingly all-encompassing digital realm.
Djrum is the alias of the difficult to pin down DJ/producer Felix Manuel, who draws his sound from influences as diverse as DJ Shadow, jungle, and minimal techno. Today, we’re offering an exclusive free download of the instrumental version of his track “Anchors,” which in its original incarnation features sultry vocals from NYC artist ShadowBox. Thankfully, the song is equally as powerful when stripped down to its dusty, slow-burning instrumental elements. Djrum’s debut album Seven Lies is out via 2nd Drop as of this week.
Luv Thang is further proof, if proof were needed, that the ’90s house revival shows no signs of losing steam. To its credit, “Luv Thang (feat. Jessy Allen)” by two of the Netherlands’ premier Chicago worshippers, Alden Tyrell & Gerd, genuinely sounds like a quick-and-dirty slice of house from another decade. The production is rote but punchy, with sashaying hi-hats leading a charge of warm, deep bass and a staggered cascade of drum hits. Allen’s vocals are confidently sassy, even while strutting around the song’s paper-thin conceit (“Gimme that luv thang,” plus some obligatory ad libbing). Their presence, despite how confidently Tyrell and Gerd drop them into the mix, doesn’t do much for the track. Allen has plenty of attitude and commitment, yet her words merely fill a role, even suggesting some forgotten, fly-by-night track from the very decade the song is channeling. “Luv Thang” is house without the usual preciousness that attends nostalgia, and it strays into somewhat cheesy—if ultimately effective and historically accurate—territory as a result.
The vocal-less “Girls Can’t Swim” takes exactly one less chance than the a-side does, sticking to the Tyrell’s and Gerd’s strengths as producers. It’s just as well, since these two specialize in embodying the brutalist spirit of jack tracks, and this b-side, with its heart-stoppingly weighty bass drums and sour, boinging synths would not be out of place in Clone’s Jack for Daze discography. The vibe is rougher than, say, Bicep’s, even if the era of reference/reverence remains the same. There’s enough in these few minutes to remind us they’re doing something new with a timeless body-music template, although too much jacking can be awfully drying after a point.
xxxy (a.k.a. Rupert Taylor) is known for his flexible, forward-facing brand of rich, techy garage. His ability to shift between styles has endeared him to a number of labels, including Ten Thousand Yen, which recently issued his “Progression” b/w “Thinkin Bout” single. Like many of his contemporaries, Taylor honed his chops at the Red Bull Music Academy, which is where his tale of woe begins. The zest and energy he puts into his productions remains his strong point, but if this story comes with any kind of moral, it’s that going too hard in the real world can have its repercussions.
Shortly after I was at the Red Bull Music Academy in Madrid—the day after it finished—I had a show in a place called Neuchâtel in Switzerland. The whole Red Bull Music Academy was like two weeks of barely sleeping at all, and on top of that, I had a show in the middle of it. So I flew back from Madrid to Manchester and did a show, and then back to the Academy, and then did another full-on week, so I had no time off in the middle—I think other people had one day off. So I had this show in Neuchâtel and I think it was on a Saturday, and it was a festival called Case à chocs. I had to fly back to Heathrow, and I had this massive suitcase with all my shit in it from the last two weeks, and I was like, “Oh, maybe I should leave my massive suitcase in left luggage and take a small bag to Switzerland.” I decided not to and checked my bag, and got my flight to Switzerland. I remember, when I got there—it was like a two-hour drive from Geneva airport to the place where I had the show. And then we got stuck in traffic and it ended up being like three-and-a-half or four hours—maybe more than that—and I was nodding off the whole time. I finally got to the hotel, and then went to the venue and soundchecked and it was fine. I had some dinner, and they were like, “We’ll pick you up in an hour and a half,” and I was like alright. I went to sleep for an hour and a half, and went and played the show. The show was great—I was sober, but everyone there was really drunk, falling over, banging into the decks and stuff. Being tired is just freaking me out, and they knocked the decks—the decks were on wheels and just got knocked at an angle, and the lights were pointing in my eyes in a different way and for some reason that really freaked me out. But that was fine, it was all fine. And I managed to leave the show fairly quickly and went to bed again.
I normally set like five or ten alarms, at least, to wake me up in the morning if I’ve got a flight. They gave me a train ticket to get back to Geneva airport. I woke up at like midday, maybe like an hour and a half after my train had left, and I was like, “Oh fuck.” So I ran to the train station, bought a new train ticket, and got on the next train to Geneva airport. I think there’s some kind of shopping center attached to Geneva airport, and there was a model-train exhibition going on in this shopping center, in the middle, so there was less room for people to walk through. I was running through with my massive bag, and there were all these train nerds in the way. I got to the British Airways desk to check in, and I asked, “Can I check in for the London flight?” And she was like, “Mmm… do you have a bag to check in?” I said, “Yeah.” And she was like, “No, you can’t.” So, trying to work out what to do, I got my phone out and started looking at Kayak.com to get a new flight to get home, and I found one on Easyjet. I booked it, and I breathed a sigh of relief, like, “Okay, that didn’t cost too much. I’m going to get home.”
And then I had some food, and I came back to try and look for my flight, and it wasn’t on the board. I was like, “Right, [what the] fuck is going on?” I went to the Easyjet desk, and they said, “Oh, you’ve booked a flight for tomorrow.” I was like, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Switzerland’s just a seriously expensive country, so I was like, “Do I stay in a hotel for another night and fly tomorrow and spend the money, or just book the next flight?” I just [wanted] to go home, stat. I’m nearly in tears at this Easyjet desk, having not slept for two-and-a-half weeks, and I was like, “What can I do!?” I just had to empty my bank account to pay for a flight back. I ended up spending like 500 pounds on Easyjet flights just to get home. It was just the most depressing journey of my life. And I think there was some group of teenagers coming back from a skiing holiday and they were all sat around me, and I was like… (sighs wearily) “Yeah.” If I had left my bag in Heathrow airport, I would have got home with my bank account in a reasonable condition. But I had to ring my flatmate and get him to transfer some money to my account, just so I could get back from the airport. Probably not the best fun I’ve ever had getting home from a gig, but it certainly taught me not to miss my flights or my connections. It was just a domino effect.
