[Aus Music]

For Lee Jones, The Moose Mingles EP is a little like coming home. It’s the UK-born, Berlin-based producer’s first solo record for Aus Music since 2008, having put out nearly every release under his own name on Will Saul’s imprint until then. There he developed his organic-flavored yet sample-stuffed sound which was most fully explored on the 2008 album Electronic Frank. Guitars, strings, and horns remain close at hand in his palette, but Jones’ sound has grown more club-oriented if no less detailed in the intervening years while releasing for Upon.You, Cityfox, Watergate and Soundofspeed, and occasionally collaborating with Matthias Meyer, Patrice Bäumel, and Daniel Dreier. The Moose Mingles EP, then, is something of a return to form, hitting many of the same notes as past Aus Music releases with contemporary accents.

Opener “Moment” affects a remarkably familiar marimba pattern (think “Soon”) in the midst of equally reminiscent tripwire guitars and vocals singing “moment” at different depths. A smear of disorienting tones and teeming bass bind things together, affording a hypnotic, almost Melchior Productions quality to the track — a quality which recedes somewhat after the sunny, post-breakdown key change. “Duvel” hews just as closely to past methods, breaking up a melange of melodic samples with a laser-fired bass line. Like “Moment,” it’s obviously labored over and ticks many of the right boxes, but takes few risks and finds Jones in a sort of holding pattern. Borrowing only the vocals, George FitzGerald’s remix of “Moment” is pleasant but misses an opportunity shine. Its first half floats by on a lazy river of pads, only hitting the rapids once the pool drains and its chord stabs dive into empty space. Powered its busy percussion, Midland’s remix of “Duvel” tunnels beneath the original, allowing the melodic elements to bleed together except for a clear, techy chord sequence.

Of the EP’s four digital-only tracks, only the alternate mix of “Moment” (whose splashier hi-hats and warmer chords make a world of difference) and “Westworld” are worth having. Like so much of his most memorable work, the latter hearkens back to Jones’ progressive, big-room material. Its main motif unfolds with grace and a wink, each pointed note falling perfectly in the ear and accompanied by terrifically dusty percussion and sensual sample snippets. A pity that it’s relegated to non-physical status. A track this evocative and identifiable as Jones’ own dispels the notion that you can’t go home again. Yet as whole, The Moose Mingles EP suggests getting back into old routines years later isn’t always easy or the best fit.

[All Inn Records]

Close observers of dance music trends will remember the so-called Romanian invasion of late 2007-early 2008, when a pack of fresh-faced producers were catapulted into prominence with the patronage of Luciano, Ricardo Villalobos, and others. The funny thing about invasions, though, is their effects are often felt long after the press no longer sounds the alarm. In the years following, Romania’s house and techno scene has continued to proliferate; and though few of its exports have reached the name recognition of the [a:rpia:r] stable (our old friends Petre Inspirescu, Rhadoo, and Raresh), many more have achieved respectability. One particularly ambitious example is the all Romanian-staffed All Inn Records, which in its three years of existence has expanded to include the All Inn Black and All Inn Limited sub-labels. Following a single by Summed & Dot that included a Tobias Freund remix, All Inn splurged for its last 2011 release — a remix single by two of 2011′s biggest names, Kassem Mosse and DJ Qu.

All Inn’s recent output has been largely compatible with current trends: raw, melodic, and thoroughly influenced by classic American house. Yet when remixing label adherents Sailor Mood and Summed & Dot, Mosse and Qu reimagine the subtle and hypnotic aesthetic with which many Romanians were first associated. In Qu’s hands, Sailor Mood’s “Brick Brick Brick” is all about tracking the slight switch-ups in tapped-out percussion patterns, leaving two weaselly synths and the occasional stretched vocal to provide momentum. Mosse has much the same M.O. when remixing Summed & Dot’s “East Brick Wall.” The twitch of clattering hi-hats at different depths lets flickers of watercolor pads filter through, leaving the deeply resonant bass line to compel butts to motion. Very much in line with KM’s glut of 2011 remixes, it’s more likely to build or extend DJs’ sets than define them. It’s unusual that an eye-catching release like this plays such a submissive role, even among All Inn’s catalog. Its all-star cast and low print run of 200, however, mean this 12″ is likely to be snapped up regardless.

[Ostgut Ton]

Aside from the occasional reissue campaign, dance music artists are not known for spending much time with their back catalogs. Whether you chalk this up a mercurial, fashion-conscious culture or most producers’ tendency to release and move on, many artists tend to identify with their past only as part of their CV (or legacy in the case of careerists). Ever the iconoclast, Luke Slater admitted to bucking that trend when writing the fifth Planetary Assault Systems album. “I looked back to The Drone Sector for inspiration,” he told Richard Brophy, continuing, “I love that LP and I feel that it gets overlooked… it almost felt as if I hadn’t written it.” Given the fathomless depths of his oeuvre under a dozen aliases it’s little surprise Slater feels somewhat detached from the 1997 album. But it’s quite striking to think the second PAS LP was a touchstone for the newest more than a decade later. This goes a long way in explaining why The Messenger finds Planetary Assault Systems pulling back on the throttle after the all-out blitzkrieg that was 2009′s Temporary Suspension.

Despite its stated reference point, The Messenger has just as much in common with all previous PAS albums except Temporary Suspension, mixing beatless experiments and mid-tempo techno pieces with more rigorous cuts. But even by those standards it’s a measured, heady record — more akin to a psychological thriller than an explosive sci-fi blockbuster. Its ominous atmosphere is one notable holdover from Temporary Suspension, fomenting pits of dread in listeners’ stomachs with an assortment of unearthly drones and queasy chord sequences while Slater’s usually ferocious drums play supporting roles. After the pleasant tone bath of “Railer (Further Exploration),” The Messenger reveals its true colors on “Beauty In the Fear,” a jaw-clenching crawl through a cavernous passage lined with snarling synthetic creatures. “Human Like Us” is the direct descendant of The Drone Sector‘s “Dungeon,” its familiar, sickly sweet bell patterns bearing light percussive touches as an abused guitar chord fumbles below. Slater intensifies this approach on “Bell Blocker,” which sounds like a distant, coal-fired locomotive warning those ahead with the clang of cowbells and high pitched whines.

An album this intent on unsettling its audience would be a tough sell if not for its largely assiduous sequencing. From its humble opening The Messenger gets more menacing both in tone and the physicality of its percussion with almost every track — the drifting “Movement 12″ being the notable exception. But even when it’s churning bones into butter on “Call From The East” or cranking out eerie electric piano progressions on “Kray Squid,” there’s a modicum of restraint to keep you guessing when the metaphorical hammer will fall. That moment finally arrives on the ninth track, “Rip The Cut,” unleashing all the pent-up tension with torrents of overdriven, syncopated drum triplets. Unfortunately the album loses steam and appeal when it doesn’t maintain that intensity in the last three tracks. There’s a sense the sub-aquatic squelch of “Motif” and paint-PAS-by-numbers “Cold Bolster” would’ve felt less lackluster placed earlier in the order. That said, the machine funk of “Black Tea” is an effective closer, thrumming with nervous energy before disintegrating in squalls of white noise.

The inherent risk of Slater reconnecting with his earlier releases to create new work is that listeners can justifiably claim The Messenger is merely a lateral move for Planetary Assault Systems. Yet that doesn’t make his choice to scale back the aggression and require more careful listening any less brave, knowing that doing so could alienate fans who only just cottoned on with Temporary Suspension. It also can’t take away from the richness of Slater’s sound design, which is meticulous enough to fully sell his haunting vision without resorting to brutality and far more intensely detailed than any PAS material before it. To this end his choice of inspiration proves fruitful, allowing Slater to refine his well established sound while keeping his fans checking behind their curtains for lurkers. Message received.

[Marketing Music]

Gentleness is not a quality which receives much respect within dance music circles. After all, it’s a musical environment that tends to elevate those who “bang” with the best of them, those who slather on the bass, and those who leave their tunes “raw as fuck.” Aiming for the opposite is often treated as a sign of a producer’s weakness — or even worse, as an attempt to woo the masses. So it’s somewhat audacious that South African producer Jullian Gomes decided to make his solo debut with a track so pillowy soft it’s not far removed from a lullaby. Originally released on the 2010 Red Bull Music Academy compilation and since signed to Marketing Music, the Tim Paris-administrated Silver Network sub-label, it’s actually rather obvious why Gomes was so confident in “Love Song 28.”

Traces of Gomes’ other gig as half of G.Family remain in its plush, harmonizing pads and the sharper chord stabs that fasten the billowing pitches to the snappy percussion. The graceful falsetto of featured vocalist Bobby, nestled in the flowing tones, brings to mind a more personal take on the glossy house of someone like Kaskade. Its pointed bass line, which lingers just behind Bobby’s sustained and convincing delivery of the yearning lyrics, thumbs listeners’ heart strings as the vocals pull them within reach. So “Love Song 28″ lives up to its name as a bona fide song, albeit one that could fill a dance floor that’s ready to get tender.

Peak-time DJs are catered to as well with two versions by Ewan Pearson and one by Anonym. Pearson constructs a bass-led beat that squelches with every step, dappling its surface with frenetic bleeps and bright bells. It’s fine enough on its own, but the hushed vocals seem out of place in this more aggressive context. Anonym’s dub chooses a few of the original’s pitches and locks them into a repetitive groove, which while suitably utilitarian feels as if it’s just spinning its wheels. In the end gentleness wins the day, proof that producers don’t have to go hard to grab listeners’ attention and keep it.

[Fina Records]

It’s still tough to accurately describe the Morning Factory sound even after they’ve wracked up five records in their discography. Sure, the Dutch production duo could be loosely described as making house music; but that encompasses their more aggressive, techno-flecked cuts on Yore, the jazzy hustle of their Pets Recordings EP, the blissful disco strut of “Fantasy Check” on Royal Oak, and the sheer range contained on their 20:20 Vision EP. What’s clearer, though, is that Jozef Lemmens and Pierre van der Leeuw have a knack for immaculate layering and are only getting better at it on each additional platter. Still a step removed from the rest of their catalog thanks to its barely over 100 BPM tempos, Morning Factory’s Sultans Of Swing EP on Fina Records does an exemplary job summarizing what makes them so intriguing.

Rather than teasing out different strains of house for each track, the pair manage to distill their various styles into humid, immensely detailed slow house. Drowsy horns (or synth approximations) are poured liberally over the title track, cut by jangling hang percussion and slight guitar riffs and overwhelmed by harsher synth oscillations and euphoric sweeps. Similar brass elements facilitate the languid funk of “Lady,” providing a cushy texture beneath tart piano chords, dual male/female vocals, and a progression that never stops bobbing and weaving in the whirling pads. While “Lady” is more immediately catchy and topical, it’s easy to imagine getting lost in the many folds of “Sultans of Swing” during a warm up set. For an often inscrutable producer, Cottam’s remix of “Sultans” has a surprisingly clear reference point in MyMy’s Songs For the Gentle. Yet he wears this influence well, draining the original to let generously delayed stabs and empyrean melodies reverberate around the new found space. Rambunctious drum patterns and jittery guitar samples afford ample structure to make this much faster version viable for the dance floor. The Sultans Of Swing EP is as successful as it is ambitious, again proving that Morning Factory can churn out superb music even as they continually evolve.

[20:20 Vision]

If you wrote off Simon Baker as just another big-room tech-house producer after his 2007 single “Plastik” became a smash hit, you probably weren’t listening close enough. It’s true, the tune thrived on an ever-expanding arpeggio primed for substantial PAs. But its bewitching organ breakdown and the sheer variety of drum timbres on offer suggested he wasn’t just a populist. Combining the high with the low has been a near constant feature of Baker’s records since, allowing him to indulge in trends — tribal/Latin house, deep house — without being defined by them. This was also true of Traces, his 2011 full-length debut which embraced the present milieu and took it a step further with refined details. “Grey Area,” its appropriately named second single, exemplifies this approach and includes remixes by Burnski & Robert James and Steve Bug.

Admittedly, “Grey Area” is not a jaw-dropper or world-beater. Its main motif, a muted piano riff lingering just long enough over rolling drums and brushed hi-hats, is only a few notches away from bog standard. The track instead earns its stripes in the space around the riff, creating an atmosphere where affected voices, subtle synth touches, and a through-the-spokes descending noise (borrowed from 2006′s “Full Range”) coexist and keep listeners engaged. The rollicking piano breakdown and its switched up percussion accompaniment are appreciated also.

With its submerged vocals and late-night temperament, Burnski and Robert James’ remix is truer to the spirit of the original than its sounds. The pair introduce low-brow elements like classic house progressions that add a cheeky streak in their otherwise business-like, bass-led production. Steve Bug reimagines “Grey Area” as if it were to be released on his Dessous Recordings, removing the clutter in favor of clean lines and a fizzy new synth line that runs through the middle. What his version lacks in overt personality it makes up in dance floor utility. While Grey Area won’t set off a wholesale re-evaluation of Simon Baker’s catalog, it reminds us that nuance has always been a part of his appeal.

[Wolf + Lamb]

The opportunity to remix Lucky Paul’s “Thought We Were Alone” proved to be more than just another offer for Gadi Mizrahi of Wolf + Lamb and Eli Gold of Soul Clap. The R&B-suffused beat music laid out on The Slow Ground EP on Somethinksounds, the debut release by the New Zealand born, Berlin-based producer, was already similar to the sonic grist of the American producers’ own tracks. Subsequently, their more surefooted, house-tempo-ed take ended up as the record’s peak, standing tall over remixes by Gang Colours and Eliphino, as well as the originals. Realizing its full potential, Mizrahi and his W+L partner, Zev Eisenberg, chose to re-release the remix along with another Lucky Paul original, this time reworked by label stalwart Greg Paulus. Lucky Paul’s capacity for producing worthy remix fodder seems to be an enduring quality.

Gold and Mizrahi focused most on the original’s vocals, sung with a sweet sigh by Milosh, but also etch texture into their pointed synth progressions with the original’s swirling textures. Their remix’s dark, thrusting melody, articulated with drum kit percussion, is humbled by the resigned character of Milosh’s repeated vocals, “you’re killing me baby” and “I thought we were alone.” Like a break-up it’s charged but also tinged with sadness, a complexity that’s both well executed and stylistically compatible with many of 2011′s prevailing house trends. Paulus investigates this mood further when remixing “Elephant Island,” draping Mara TK’s vocals across plunging pitches that force their way into nothingness. Cool, refreshing organ chords dab the sweat away as its muggy atmosphere fills with sustained horn notes and Mara’s mellow phrasings. “I drift on the floor,” he harmonizes, neatly summarizing the stoned vibe while nonetheless maintaining listeners’ attention. Whether Lucky Paul’s originals will distinguish themselves as more than fertile source material for like-minded remixers remains to be seen. But it would be just as well if he collaborated directly with the Wolf+Lamb’s crew to arrive at more tunes like these.

Since writing 2010′s 2Q Report on overrated tracks I’ve spent some time pondering what makes something overrated. In years prior LWE has fingered DJs as the culprits behind overrated tracks, and with good reason: jocks are the ones playing and charting the tunes. But that overlooks two important parts of the equation — audiences and critics. If it feels wrong to blame club-goers for the music they have no explicit role in picking, think again. Dancers vote with their feet, choosing to reward or punish a DJ’s selections with their presence on the dancefloor or decision to leave it. The experience of clearing the floor a few times is often enough to condition many DJs to be people-pleasers to some extent. And while there is no telling what exactly will keep a particular crowd dancing beyond educated guesses, relying on the facile and the familiar is often a safer bet than trying to “educate” with recent Discogs finds. Functional or gimmicky records are best suited at simply keeping the party going, and many of their defenders are quick to point this out. I’d argue this is not a worthwhile barometer because it prizes continuity over quality, and that’s hardly a convincing reason for whether a track is noteworthy.

The other overlooked variable is critical reaction. Even at a time where anyone with a social networking profile becomes an arbiter of taste for their friends, the impact of educated ears guiding their readers through the never-abating flow of new releases shouldn’t be understated. But for all our claims of being unbiased, critics occasionally fall prey to our desires to be read and appreciated just as artists and DJs do.The Internet helps facilitate a kind of hive-mind state where critics line up to join their peers in praising the latest buzz record/artist rather than be seen as missing out. When some publications dare to publish negative reviews their staff endure verbal abuse in the comments section over differing opinions. It all adds up to an environment where grade inflation seems likely. I took these two additional considerations into account while deciding on five records from the first half of 2011 afforded undue levels of credit and kudos.

Clockwork, “It’s You Again” [Hot Creations]

When it comes to trends in dance music, the pendulum tends to swing hard no matter which direction it’s heading. Over the last six months that’s meant a deluge of house tracks with full on vocals, not just the snippets that dotted 2010′s output. Given their tendency towards being male dominated and/or featuring pitch- and gender-bending effects (of the sort pioneered by The Knife and Fever Ray), you could attribute their popularity to the success of tracks like Art Department’s “Without You.” Whatever their inspiration, their prevalence has drawn out how easy it is to do crap vocals for the sake of fitting the fad. Perhaps the worst of the bunch is Clockwork’s “It’s You Again,” a track that boils down Art Department’s underwhelming formula to its least interesting elements: soupy, nearly incoherent vocals, rote house percussion and a synth progression so slight it’s mostly a placeholder. Disappointingly if unsurprisingly, this has made it quite the hit. But rather than dismiss the trend out of hand, it’s worth noting that some producers are succeeding at making compelling music with similar traits, some of which are listed below. Instead of praising and playing the music of low-rent bandwagon hoppers like Clockwork, we should support those who find interesting corners to explore inside of trends.

Try instead: Tale of Us, “Dark Song”; Benoit & Sergio, “Walk & Talk”; Lucky Paul ft. Milosh, “Thought We Were Alone” (Gadi Mizrahi & Eli Gold Remix)

Jamie xx, “Far Nearer” [Numbers]

Almost as awkward as watching the British press and public hyperventilate themselves into believing The xx were generational heroes has been the rush to crown Jamie “xx” Smith the next super producer. This was particularly frustrating for those not inclined to buy into the first part of his ascendance, because it seemed he was receiving these overblown credentials based on potential rather than evidence. If anything “Far Nearer,” his first solo single, emphasized just how far his boosters had overshot: a cloying mixture of steel drums, pitchbent vocals and tapped-out drums that lingered for ages in legendary dubplate stasis, out of reach from reviewers while remaining an object of obsession. It was a “cool dubstep tune” for people who didn’t like dubstep. It was held up as exemplary by press outlets with only token coverage of the genre it supposedly belonged to, never mind that it couldn’t hold a candle to its apparent peers. But it’s just so much easier to praise the artist you’ve already built up than to wade into a confusing and tangled field of sounds to find something truly excellent. Smith is not at fault for making music he believed in, even if it’s a poor example of all the creativity flowing from the UK. It’s the reactive and reductive press that shoulders the blame for putting “Far Nearer” and its creator on such a high pedestal that living up to expectations was practically impossible.

Try instead: Deadboy, “Ain’t Gonna Lie”; Andy Stott, “New Ground”; Machinedrum, “Sacred Frequency”

Efdemin, “There Will Be Singing” (DJ Koze Remix) [Dial]

The reasons for buying into DJ Koze’s particular brand of musical lunacy are many, but they all add up to one simple fact: more often than not his zany ideas give birth to beautiful, innovative sounds. But it is possible to place too much faith in the man’s abilities, as has been the case with his remix of Efdemin’s “There Will Be Singing.” On paper, giving this album highlight to Koze seemed like an inspired and even obvious choice; the only question that remained was what hidden beauties its remixer would reveal. The reality is rather sobering, starting with a slurred intro declaring Efdemin a homosexual for no particular reason. From there Koze shows little interest in developing the track beyond the taut chords from the original’s latter half, giving them just enough juice to provide a techno edge but not much else. Add vocal narration that wonders why people value art and snares that reveal themselves to be dog barks and you’ve got the entire remix. It’s the sound of a oddball genius resting on his askew laurels, banking on any weirdness being good weirdness. It’s also the kind of track that would’ve been roundly ignored without Koze’s name on it. In terms of popularity his bet has paid off: so far it’s the second most charted track of 2011 according to RA’s calculations, suggesting that DJs put great store in his bland reduction of a great track and audiences are egging them on in kind. Anyone who appreciates DJ Koze knows he’s capable of much much more, which is why settling for this tossed-off remix is a stain on all those involved.

Try instead: Heiko Voss, “I Think About You” (DJ Koze Mix); Matias Aguayo, “Minimal” (DJ Koze Remix); Sascha Funke, “Mango Cookie” (DJ Koze’s Pink Moon Rmx)

Nicolas Jaar, Space Is Only Noise [Circus Company]

Born in Chile to a somewhat famous father, precocious and well educated, Nicolas Jaar is (to put it crudely) something out of a features editor’s wet dream. Add a wonky production style that doesn’t fit neatly into current dance music narratives and the rising star piece begins to write itself. That’s not to say Jaar didn’t earn the attention he’s received, having amassed a respectable discography with popular labels since starting out in 2008. But when he released his debut album, Space Is Only Noise, earlier this year, it seemed like the occasion critics were waiting for to spill forth with praise. Their impulse was understandable to an extent: the young artist used his firm grasp of production and sound design to render an unusual take on beat music. Listening to the album, however, it feels like reviewers were rushing to congratulate Jaar for taking chances rather than making something actually spectacular. Tracks like “Too Many Kids Finding Rain In the Dust” and “Problems With The Sun” don’t sound like much else but aren’t much to listen to either. His drum patterning is solidly average, leaving many of his songs (such as “I Got A Woman,” “Specters of the Future” and “Variations”) in league with mediocre trip-hop that wasn’t so hot the first time around. Other moments (“Sunflower,” “Almost Fell” and “Trace”) come off like the noodling of a college-aged stoner and add little to his stronger work. Space Is Only Noise too often feels like student work, an album that hints at a unique, compelling perspective between half-baked, scatter shot compositions. It makes clear that Jaar is a talented guy who could probably make a staggering album at some point; but despite multiple assurances to the contrary, his debut LP is just not that.

Try instead: John Roberts, Glass Eights; The Books, The Lemon Of Pink; Prefuse 73, One Word Extinguisher

Oliver $, “Doin’ Ya Thang” [Play It Down]

It’s almost a shame to spend still more time on this prime example of lazy songwriting. Still, it’s hard to overlook a track that’s been overrated by critics, DJs, and audiences alike. The truth is, dance music fans of all stripes are in love with Moodymann and will even resort to poorly constructed facsimiles to get our fix. Oliver’s cleverness was only in realizing and harnessing this fact even more bluntly than those who attempted it before him. Because without the minute-length samples of another DJ at work it’s a plain disco beat with crowd noise and filters; with them, it allows jocks to turn the show over to a bigger, more dynamic DJ presence that audiences have been lapping up for years. One can only hope this is the moment when samples of Moodymann performances and quotes jump the shark and people instead demand that the living legend be brought to their town. I fear my hopes will be dashed instead.

Try instead: Moodymann, all; Green Velvet, “Flash”; Efdemin, “Just A Track”

[Aus Music]

As with almost any genre tag, describing something as “bass music” seems to mean much less now than it did when producers first tried to distance themselves from the name dubstep. Initially it was just a different umbrella to stand under, one not affiliated with the wobbling, laddish strain that trades as dubstep these days. By now many are chafing at the term. Others such as Joy Orbison, Lone, SCB, and George FitzGerald simply pen tracks as closely aligned with house music as their jungle/garage influences. Alongside Hotflush Recordings, Aus Music have tapped this vein of UK house, if you will, with great interest. Their latest record, the Silhouette EP, brings together a growing talent in this field, FitzGerald, and another fan of asymmetric house, John Roberts.

The title track is proof of how few boundaries actually exist in between these subdivided genres. FitzGerald again employs synth timbres that wash and reflect like dub chords found in more traditional dubstep, while its rhythmic frame reads as brisk, syncopated house not weighed down by an emphasis on bass. Misty pads and persistent chord stabs crash against androgynous vocals that provide levity and space as they float across drum breaks. John Roberts retrofits “Silhouette” with blown out, woozy parts for a memorable remix that could effectively be called bass music. The blitz of kick drums, clap clusters and tumbling, overdriven bass notes would be almost too much if not for his deft use of space. The differently pitched vocals, whether chattering over warped synth lines or slurring over a somber piano break, are an enormous asset as well. The EP closes on “Reset,” which with its looped vocal backbone is a direct descendent of FitzGerald’s Back and 4th contribution, “We Bilateral.” The interweaving patterns and warm, unobtrusive synth lines are a pleasing backdrop on which female vocals seeking “a new beginning” unfurl. Like the title track it’s an enjoyable fusion of well-explored sounds, although it might be the superior FitzGerald cut. Together with Roberts’ inventive remix, the Silhouette EP is a compelling record for a diverse crowd of house music fans.

[Play It Down]

Forgive me for stating something too true, but there are innumerable reasons to love Moodymann. Whether it’s his wealth of stone cold classic tracks, endlessly quotable interviews or irrepressible live performances, Kenny Dixon Jr.’s alter ego has been an endless source of inspiration and entertainment for generations of producers and party-goers. In recent years many artists have more blatantly mimicked his aesthetic, in particular through the use of looped crowd noise. Producers have only grown bolder in their appropriations, with youANDme, Blawan, and others generously sampling KDJ’s instant classic Red Bull Music Academy interview to impart his inimitable charisma in otherwise unmemorable tracks. But the most audacious example of riding his coattails is undoubtedly Oliver $’s Doin’ Ya Thang, a record that swiftly admits it has nothing to offer besides extended samples of a Moodymann DJ set.

Unlike your typical DJ set, Moodymann’s give off the atmosphere of an old school house party — a disjointed but engaging selection of vintage funk, soul, disco and even rock tunes narrated by the man himself on the microphone. It’s this latter part that Oliver $ exploits wholesale for “Doin’ Ya Thang,” pasting lengthy chunks of KDJ’s signature patter (eg. “Y’all motherfuckers having a good time?”) onto a rudimentary house beat. The dub mix makes clear how just indebted it is to the samples, its two-note bass line essentially marking time for seven minutes while Oliver adjusts filters. It’s difficult to say what’s more galling: that Oliver felt no qualms about commercially bootlegging someone he supposedly respects; the lack of effort spent developing his own contribution; or this track’s position atop Beatport’s sales charts and RA’s May chart. The impulse to emulate Moodymann is understandable. Oliver $ opting to turn KDJ’s last unexploited facet — his very livelihood — into a sub-par facsimile for his own material gain is frankly deplorable. Save your money and ears for a Moodymann DJ set at a club near you.