Heartless techno? Not here, my friend. Over the course of eleven years and six albums, Kirk Degiorgio has carefully crafted future soul that proves the passion of machines need be neither cold nor heartless. This compendium provides an admirable overview of Degiorgio’s stellar career, barring the omission (due to corporate licensing snafus) of any material from his time signed to Mo’ Wax. Nevertheless, So Far (So Good) shines with gems like the liquid and driving “Isatai” from his seminal ART imprint, and 1996’s thumping funk workout, “Queen Constance.” Required listening for androids who dare to dream.
Various Folk, Jazz & Poetry
Pretty typical programming here: Maria Muldaur, Michael Jackson, 4hero, all the usual suspects. Ummm…excuse me? This compilation plays a bit like a mix tape made just before sunrise after a few too many, but selector Matteo Sola manages to (mostly) pull it off. By attempting to draw lines between evergreen troubadour Terry Callier’s “Keep Your Heart Right,” Stereolab’s kaleidoscopic “Percolator,” and the previously mentioned Jackson’s take on “People Make the World Go ‘Round,” Sola provides a mildly loopy soundtrack just fine for people-watching at a sidewalk caf?.
Daedelus Rethinking the Weather
Blending tapered-knicker nerdiness with hypermodern digital effects, So-Cal producer Daedelus is wedged between the Burberry-scarved world of Godard and the cyborg-dominated world of Ghost in the Shell. Rethinking the Weather is a pastiche of instrumentals from his 2002 release The Weather-for which Daedelus teamed up with the droll, space-cadet-ish emcees Busdriver and Radioinactive. Rethinking preserves The Weather‘s characteristic zaniness, mixing cheesy Archies-style organ with driving thwicka-thwicka-boom percussion (“Dark Days”), lazy whistling (“Bright Star”), and children’s toy instrumentals (“Name Game”). What results are instrumental remixes with as much narrative arch as the original cuts.
KRS-One The Krstyle
The Johnny Appleseed of hip-hop edutainment strikes again, with scabrous boom-bap beats and lyrics about the upliftment of blackfolk. We already have high expectations of KRS-One, not only to voice discontent over political situations, but to impart durable social truths. And granted, he holds it down in The Krstyle, particularly in the hard-hitting cut “Gunnen Em Down.” On the flipside, this characteristically bristly MC regales us with the piano-ribboned, sensitive-guy number “The Only One,” in which he uses verbal dopeness to pay homage to his wife. But never fear-in the other cuts, KRS-One returns to his typically pissed-off self.
The Beat Kids Open Rhythm System
Not quite on par with Djinji Brown’s Afrobeat-chic Surround Sound, The Beat Kids’s Open Rhythm is a ponderous venture into Blacktronic Never-Neverland, where left-handed, techy production collides with syncopated drums. While Open Rhythm’s tumult of styles occasionally creates an avant-garde wrecking ball effect-most apparent on “Gimme Back My Activator”-in other moments, experimentation produces something tasty and tripped-out-like the swampy berimbau beat on “Brazilian Phrasebook,” and Keith Witty’s eerie bass solo on “Fraction.” Given that The Beat Kids come from a lineage of weird-if slightly bookish-7 Heads jazz cats, Open Rhythm‘s souped-up “think” music seems apropos.
Rosalia De Souza Garota Moderna
The breezy, lounge-chair bossa nova of Rosalia de Souza’s debut album, Garota Moderna, conjures visions of a snuggly, ’60s-era upper-class Rio de Janeiro: the stuff of careless romances, exotic coffee drinks, and Stan Getz tunes. Airy cymbals, breathy flutes and clement pentatonic piano solos combine with Souza’s seductive “da da dee diddy doo doo” in the opening tracks “Maria Moita,” and “Bossa 31,” setting a tone that doesn’t waver for the entire album. Like an ambient fleur de lys, Garota Moderna,/i> is ideal for cocktail parties, but its mild “blame it on the bossa nova” vibe is hardly an accurate characterization of Brazilian culture.
TV On Your Radio Young Liars
Self-proclaimed pan-African “manimal” Tunde Adebimpe, “disastronaut” David Andrew Sitek, and “government foil” Kyp Malone make the kind of music Brian Eno and Roxy Music would be flattered by. Which is to say, quite nice.
Desormais Iambrokenandremadeiambroken
If looking for tangible clues regarding Mitchell Akiyama and Joshua Treble’s duo Desormais, their name may not be the place to investigate. Translated from French as henceforth,” Iambroken likewise urges you to come to your own conclusions, using ambiguity as a convincing instrument of suspense. Deconstructed guitars sprawl across the album’s length, evoking Fennesz, My Bloody Valentine and Oval. Among other things, however, appearances from A Silver Mount Zion’s cellist Becky Foon and Hanged Up’s drummer Eric Craven throw in enough sonic variation to keep the album a safe distance from either formula or mere mimicry. In a word: remote. And proud of it.
Kevin Blechdom Bitches Without Britches
Something of a feminist antihero, Kristen Erickson provides a needed counterbalance to the male-gaze histrionics of Charlie’s Angels and the catering woman that is the archetypal “Hollywood heroine.” In her guise as compu-C(o)untry reverse-diva Kevin Blechdom, the SF-to-Berlin transplant has, with Bitches without Britches, made her shining opus thus far. Positively scatologically and carnally fixated, Bitches is excessive and ridiculous, and also strangely affecting. You may wonder how someone can sing “We are the dick defrosters and dickin’s what we do/enter me and soon your dick will feel like new” and then cover “Private Dancer” with such awkward, revealing grace. But then, that’s the charm of Kevin Blechdom.
Broadcast Ha Ha Sound
If Broadcast have been unfairly compared to their better-known friends Stereolab, neither group would deny their commonalties: a love of Krautrock, Sound Library music, ’60s psych and the presence of chanteuses well-versed in literature and mod elegance. But where Stereolab go populist, Broadcast get personal. Where Stereolab go pop, Broadcast turns dusky. To be fair, the two are quite different. On Ha Ha Sound, you’ll still hear the influence of Nancy Sinatra, ’60s film music, United States of America and Joe Meek. But now their songwriting has caught up with their obscure knowledge. And this is the sound of Broadcast hitting their stride. Ha Ha Sound is what Broadcast have promised all along, and it is resplendent.
