Sach O endorses ONE indie band a year. This is that band. Listen.
Before carpet bagging, indie-rocking Leafs fans that wouldn’t know a Smoked Meat sandwich from a proper bagel invaded Montreal*, my city already had a vibrant, self-sufficient music scene en francais. Content to move units among the Province’s 6 million Francophones, local musicians were certainly influenced by the outside world, but for the most part there was little dialogue between those aiming for the local market and those hoping to strike it big elsewhere. The last decade’s indie boom changed that to an extent, but there’s still a fairly evident divide between say, Sunset Rubdown and Malajube. The future is bright, however, and increasing cross-pollination between Montreal’s twin scenes is only furthering the cause of good music as acts like bedroom duo Eli et Papillon prove.
Splitting the difference between Franco-folk tradition and international indie pop appeal, singer Elise Larouche and instrumentalist Marc Papillon’s recorded output feels like a demo in name only. The recording’s a little rough, but in the honest way that bedroom pop is supposed to sound rather than the critic-baiting, artificially lo-fi approach currently rocking the blogs. Besides, robust production would be superfluous — with their strong songs, charismatic and gifted lead singer and attention to arrangement, Eli & Papillon’s music doesn’t need to hide behind production parlor tricks, it speaks for itself. Recalling a young Belle & Sebastian (a loaded comparison I admit) with Scottish irony replaced by Gallic Romance, the group’s lyrical concerns fall squarely upon longing, love and loss. Such earnestness could be a fatal flaw but singer Elise’s vocals propel the songs past any clichés, pulling heartstrings with uncommon clarity. With all due respect to punk’s idea that anyone can sing, it’s nice to hear a contemporary indie record by someone who can actually sing.
Before Strut, Soundway, Analog Africa, and Now-Again, emerged as the top tier of archivists crawling the earth for lost gems, there was Afro Rock, Volume 1, a little-heard but widely influential compilation released on Kona in 2001. Back when Ezra Koenig was freestyling over the instrumental to “All Mixed Up,” Duncan Brooker was excavating crates in East African basements — searching everywhere from Kenya to Zaire for stellar 60s and early 70s soul, funk, and R&B.
Afro-Rock Vol. 1 documents a creatively fertile time for the region, with the dawn of pan-Africanism, powerful psychedelics, and a massive American influence bleeding into traditional rhythms from Algeria to Ethiopia to Nigeria. This is primarily funk and soul culled largely from the continent’s southeastern end, but it’s impossible to avoid hearing the tinge of the exotic and the skill with which the musicians adapt Western sounds to their own frequencies. Out of print since 2002, Strut is reissuing the excellent compilation next week complete with four additional bonus cuts, more liner notes, and a limited-edition Yeasayer dartboard.
According to BTS Radio, the fine people who wrangled this mix: “there’s a deep rooted sound to Teebs‘ music that connects with our everyday surroundings. It spotlights emotional corners and builds warmth over the listener. Initially, I was drawn into Teebs’ world when I discovered his artwork. Rich in color, complex, yet leaving enough breathing room for its subjects to shine. I guess the same can be said for his production.” Or as the guy who commented on my Low End Theory article more succintly opined: “Teebs is the don.”
The latest mix from the 2:00 a.m. wine warrior is predictably heavy on Los Angeles beat music, featuring rarely heard CDR cuts from Samiyam, Flying Lotus, Exile, and Teebs himself. There are lots of reasons why Teebs’ mixes stand out from the millions cluttering the Internet. I could ramble aimlessly about how he picks good songs and makes seamless transitions, but that’s expected. For me, it’s less about the richness of Teebs’ colors, and more about the precision of his arrangements. His blends coast as though there was only one proper order, a single stoned tone stuck between sad and sublime, the sound of someone bent on studying small details with a head full of clouds. This mix doesn’t have a name but if it did, I’d suggest “Suturing Through Smoke” or possibly “Do Not Operate Heavy Machinery.”
With the recession lingering as a semi-permanent hangover, Aloe Blacc’s sentiments remain fresh, though he probably wrote this back when people still believed that the mere election of Obama would yield millions of green jobs, glazed doughnut candy canes, and free cable for all. Since my apartment lacks Home Box Office, I was previously unaware that “I Need a Dollar” is the theme song for Kid Cudi’s How To Buy Limited Edition Japanese-Only Pumas in America, though its cover feels far more Danny Duberstein.
An industry vet dating back to his rap days in Emanon with Exile, Blacc recharges his mitzvah by channeling the dusty 60s soul that Mayer Hawthorne so artfully mined last year. Recruiting some of the best in reanimation, Brooklyn’s Truth and Soul (on production) and The Expressions and El Michels Affair (the backing band), “I Need a Dollar” strikes a rare balance of timeliness and timelessness. Many contemporary recession songs have felt like shallow attempts at empathy or savvy image rehabilitations, but Blacc’s is imbued with world-weary sadness and subtle desperation. The music supplies the hope — a celestial hail of horns and plangent pianos –a haunting line nicking “Still Dre” and/or “Two Weeks.” The result is something along the lines of “Circulate,” “Brother, Can You a Spare a Dime, ” or “Minimum Wage Nanny.” Repeated listening may also help mitigate the sufferings of Groat’s Disease.
You’ve probably heard about legendary Gang Starr emcee Guru’s recent cardiac arrest and subsequent coma and sadly we have no new information to offer. Bottom line is that this is a truly awful blow to Hip-Hop and we at the Passion are all keeping Guru in our hearts and minds and wishing him a speedy recovery.I won’t bore you with a long-winded synopsis of the man’s career, if you don’t know the story, start here and then cop the catalog. To briefly put his impact in perspective however, Guru picked up where Rakim left off and his cool calculated flow and jazzman demeanor can be felt in every emcee to ever put a premium on restraint over energy from mush mouthed stoners to hyper-lyrical battle-rappers. Oft overshadowed by his equally legendary DJ, Baby Pa was a dope producer on the low as well and this cut with Lil Dap is a perfect example of the East Coast boom-bap vibe he exemplified. Get well soon my man.
Parts of this interview were originally published at Pop and Hiss.
Much of “There Is Love in You,” was live-tested at London’s famed Plastic People nightclub, where you recently held a DJ residency. Last week, the news broke that it’s in danger of being closed down due to concerns about drug use and excessive noise complaints. How have you been reacting to that news?
I’ve been hearing about it while I’ve been away on the road, but it sounds really terrible. It’s one of those situations where the police seem to have really targeted it. After all, it’s just another club on a major stretch in London where there’s hundreds of nightclubs right next to each other. I’ve got a feeling that of all the clubs in the area, it’s the least full of bad behavior. It’s been a very inspiring and influential place for many many people in London. Hopefully, it’ll be able to keep going.
Plastic People is a little sanctuary for people whose focus is purely music, and there aren’t many places like that. The people who run it aren’t interested in it as a commercial venue. It’s like a temple of sorts, in the tradition of Paradise Garage.
2009 was a huge year for Anti-Social Entertainment with “Silkie’s City Limits Volume 1” dropping to critical acclaim on Mala’s Deep Medi records and Kromestar’s “My Sound” making a heavy impact in London’s streets. Last week, Sach O spoke to crew representative, badman DJ and all around nice guy Razor Rekta about Anti-Social’s origins, the crew’s forthcoming releases, Dubstep and UK Funky, Canadian donut houses and just what is up with that crew name.
First up, who in the world is Razor Rekta and what kind of sounds are you bringing to the table?
I’m a 28-year-old underground DJ from Ealing in West London whose origin lies in Garage music, which has now evolved into my main forte Dubstep. I’m someone who’s always looking to push the boundaries as well as discovering new music, across the globe.
I generally play everything from the harder stuff such as Benny Page and Skream to the mellow sounds of Silkie and Quest, which is home to me. I mix it up, touching on every style and each side of the spectrum in my sets.
For a lot of listeners in North America, Anti Social is still pretty low profile: tell us a little about how the crew came together and how you came to DJing personally?
I started off working in Razor Records just buying records as a hobby and mixing in my bedroom really. Then I started working with [seminal UK Garage MC collective] So Solid on their radio station back in 2002. Since then I’ve been concentrating on pushing my own people’s music and spinning at radio stations where I could push all styles of forthcoming garage music and break new artists and talent.
Anti-Social started off as a collective just having a similar taste in music and direction in what we wanted to do. We produced together and did radio showcases pushing our own music and started from there really, we are all trying to push the boundaries, try new things and hopefully make a change somehow by bringing about ‘good’ music or stuff that is generally outside the box as opposed to the other forms of dubstep which are ‘ahem’ “commercially known”!
Science has failed us. We were supposed to get hover conversions and robot vassals who could keep our sky castles tidy, while making us homemade guacamole and new-fangled old fashioneds. Yet as the new millennium rolls into its second decade, the most popular robotics involve Megan Fox’s stilted theatrics in Transformers. Granted, there is Robot Koch and Daft Punk, but we’re all deluding ourselves if we think they can bridge the gap between pliant automatons and our sad sad reality. Chris Alfaro, who records as Free the Robots, attempts to cover the difference on his debut Alpha Pup release, Ctrl Alt Delete, turning in an album full of quicksilver synths, iron drums, and samples that sound like they were salvaged from scrap heaps.
Heavily steeped in the Low End aesthetic, Free the Robots doesn’t as much assert a new vision as much as add a different angle, one occasionally angular and overly stiff, but often sleek and punishing, closer to traditional dubstep but unorthodox enough to dig up some dirty Levantine psych to make a beat called “Turkish Voodoo.” I gave the weed dispensaries six weeks to add this sativa. Heads already indoctrinated into the world of beat music will undoubtedly find this the ideal soundtrack to blunt cruise, while admiring the fine craftsmanship of Goldie Wilson III. Non-believers can continue to keep a vigil for the return of Rosie the Robot while bumping Cocorosie (yes, today is make your own Busdriver rap day).
The final part of Stussy’s three-part series on the life of J Dilla might be the best yet, providing a generous glimpse into Dilla’s recording habits, the genesis of Donuts, and his posthumous legacy. If you missed parts 1 and 2, they’re still up and required watching. Everyone involved with this project deserves a round of applause, or at least several boxes of glazed pastries.
Once again, Gilles Peterson, proves why British public radio overshadows its ex-colony, by coaxing an appearance out of the enigmatic Jay Electronica, who remains unwilling to properly explain the whereabouts of Act II. After all, the Style War emperor is almost 35, and still has yet to release an official album. Why rush now. Besides, he’s getting that Bonnaroo Money. Of course, all support will be promptly dropped should this lead to lyrical references to Shakedown St. and/or a guest appearance from Dave Matthews, a development known to leave legacies more tarnished than Rafael Palmeiro.
Listening to Jay gauge the groundswell of attention he’s received post-”Exhibit C,” makes it clear that he’s waiting until the people demand a record, or that he’s an insane perfectionist, or that he signed to Aftermath and became blood brothers with Dr. Dre. Do not skip over the first 20 minutes, where Peterson previews new Flying Lotus and drops a New Orleans tribute with cuts from The Meters, Dr. John, and Louis Armstrong, etc. In the interview, Jay Electchannukah reveals he’s working on separate projects with Nas and Mos Def, wants to work with Guilty Simpson and introduces a good chunk of his free-floating material. He also waxes philosophic on his recording habits, his love of Steely Dan, the legacy of Dilla, and why staying at hostels is like being on Twitter. Lots of pests.
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