[Cadenza]

Last year Thomas Melchior revealed a darker side of his musical personality in his powerful second album, No Disco Future. With texture, repetition and context as the dominant themes, slits of light and shades of tone color shone through even brighter when they appeared in the elegiac strains of “Water Soul,” the reduced regal progressions of “Her Majesty,” and “Black Mother”‘s mellifluous low end. On the Cadenza-released “Who Can Find Me EP,” Melchior’s focus returns to more melodic territory, albeit with melancholic overtones similar to those found in No Disco Future‘s most lucid tunes.

On first listen, “Who Can Find Me (I Can’t)” could be the postscript to No Disco‘s bookend, “Water Soul,” not least because it, too, features vocals from Melchior’s talented daughter. Her breathy delivery, both in full phrases and wordless loops, floats above hearty and reverberating chord stabs and a rolling bell progression with sharp, pixelated edges. Given its light percussive touch, slightly sullen mood and succulent choice in tones, “Who Can Find Me” seems a fitting capstone for an otherwise frenzied night of dancing. Its flipside, “Choir,” is more suited for the rest of the set, launched forward on full-bodied hand percussion and crisp hi-hats. Vocals again reside at the center — male shards marking time and swirling female vocals disrupting it — but its smoky, out of sync chords and trickling marimba line are what set it apart as a Melchior production. Perhaps not as potent as its looming LP predecessor, the “Who Can Find Me EP” is just as painstaking constructed with a flavor that’s just a touch sweeter.

In his work as Melchior Productions and various Aspect Music projects with Baby Ford and Tim Hutton, Thomas Melchior has consistently evoked a great deal of motion, thought, and feeling with relatively little grist. He helped define the micro-house era with his 2004 album, The Meaning on Playhouse by snatching sensual vocal slivers for his skeletal rhythms dabbed in melodic blush.

In the three years since, Melchior’s output has taken a darker and more abstract turn, a change well represented on the aptly titled No Disco Future, his Perlon-released second album under more or less his own name. Therein he and collaborator Hutton trade sparse melodic optimism for more atonal and obstinate arrangements which pack the same full body blow as his cheerier back catalog.
Melchior excels at stripped down grooves which wear hypnotically into listeners’ heads as their bodies jack. At times the motif of reiteration seems rather utilitarian at surface level, but the subtle textures and nuances he slips into tracks often require unabated length to worm their way into the brain. This makes No Disco Future‘s 10 tracks equally suited for a discerning dance floor and a pair of good headphones.

“Coming Up” is buoyed on its Pink-sampling refrain (so soused in dub suds it leaves ripples), but its underpinnings moan and crack like a finely tuned swing set, pumping away. The dense percussion battalion on “Prepare For Love” is warmed by descending melodic pads that conjure a rapidly setting sun, or Villalobos’ “Ichso” with neater form. “Where’s the Happiness” and “Out There” mesmerize with tight, sample-heavy loops over which Melchior wrings out writhing keyboard vamps that relish their own incongruous shape. He gets closest to the skinny deep-house aesthetic of his past releases on “Black Mother,” grabbing odd ends of vocals and a subliminally familiar bass line.

Listen to “Where’s the Happiness”:

No Disco Future also challenges listeners expectations and pursues contradiction through varied tactics. On “The Hypnotist,” Melchior conducts an exercise in cognitive dissonance: Its listeners are alerted every few bars of the “nice, warm feeling” they’re enjoying, the joy of “people smiling”, while battered by nudist percussion ticks and timbre. “Don Juan” giddily splices Latin-fired minimal percussion and accordion stylings with deep house vocals — the results are infectious without a chance of turning into a pop song.

But even on his most minimal and morose album, Melchior fits in two cuts whose sheer beauty are a shock in and of themselves. The solemn “Her Majesty” (co-written by Bruno Maman) lingers around a phased pipe organ refrain and eventually bursts into shimmering, dulcet swells. Melchior then contrasts his tuneful indulgences by injecting an overtly Casio sound just to show who’s boss. Closing out the album is “Water Soul,” a deep and haunting tune that embraces listeners in long, layered female vocal phrases and consonant piano and synth arrangements, making it more than a little hard to let go.

Listen to “Water Soul”:

Thomas Melchior exhibits just how much he’s learned over his two decades of artistry in No Disco Future without a single sign of creative fatigue. He executes a stylistic departure comfortably and completely without the stumbling blocks a new path could mean. And most of all, the album hangs together cohesively, affording listeners an intricate perception of whatever dance apocalypse he might see in store for us. Hopefully the world sticks around long enough for us to receive his next great statement.

02. Ricardo Villalobos, Fabric 36 [Fabric] (buy)
Fabric 36 was not an easy sell for me (and many others), at least partially because it wasn’t meant to be. You have to bend your framework for what an album or mix should be, how it should develop, how it should flow. Villalobos hits the reset button on these expectations and offers one of his most creative statements to date — oh yeah, and some killer tunes. “Won’t You Tell Me” and “4 Wheel Drive” are future classics, weaved into a dense web of exuberant rhythms and movements. Artists and fans will be reacting to this for some time to come.

03. Efdemin, Efdemin [Dial] (buy)
Efdemin’s debut album meticulously and gracefully re-interprets deep-house with a minimal lens in a manner unmatched in 2007. Phillip Sollmann utilizes his musique concrete/sound design knowledge to construct stunningly melodic movers and challenging experimental cuts still capable of wonders on a dance floor (“Acid Bells”). Together, its 10 tracks form a compelling and cohesive statement. Those who argue against the long-player format as it pertains to dance music should stick this in their pipes and smoke it.

04. Melchior Productions Ltd., No Disco Future [Perlon] (buy)
Thomas Melchior’s first full-length since his stellar 2004 album, The Meaning, is even more demanding of listeners with a similarly sweet payoff. Favoring tight loops of atonal textures and samples over past colorful patterns, Melchior invites the audience to revel in the tiniest of details while reserving a great deal of utility for the dance floor. Still more proof after two decades in the biz that he’s sharp, that micro-house isn’t dead, and that new listeners will soon be digging through his back catalog. I know I have.

05. Henrik Schwarz, Live [!K7] (buy)
Though Henrik Schwarz’s productions stand up well on their own, Live suggests they’re best heard sewn together into a gorgeous and flowing document of his talents. But the most stunning facet of Live is how human and alive the tunes feel. It’s evident in the loose jangle running through his Kuniyuki remix, the calming marimba pattern and rootsy upstroke of “Stop, Look & Listen” and the busted, live band funk of “Leave My Head Alone Brain.” It’s the refreshing sound of people outnumbering computers.

06. Panda Bear, Person Pitch [Paw Tracks] (buy)
Looking back, only one new rock album actually impressed me this year, and its source was quite unexpected. Panda Bear’s Person Pitch is the joyful intersection of techno (the liner notes, which list some of Noah Lennox’s influences, start with Basic Channel, Luomo and Wolfgang Voigt) and experimental rock — an euphoric, encompassing experience you won’t soon forget. Its loop-based construction brings Panda Bear’s Beach Boys influences into the 21st century, stretching the walls of more traditional rock arrangements nearly to their breaking point. As important of a record for dance music as it is for rock.

07. DeepChord Presents Echospace, The Coldest Season
[Modern Love] (buy)
Perhaps the best way to describe The Coldest Season is immersive: music to let seep into your brain while laid out flat, used to wash away worry or conjure a contemplative atmosphere. You can feel the icy wind creep across your body as the album unfolds and take comfort in the scant blanket of melody draped across the glacial movements. Rod Modell and Stephen Hitchell’s desire to make something new (and largely influenced by the latter’s experience of becoming a father) results in a truly innovative hybrid of dub techno, ambient and experimental sounds that defies obvious influence or reference points. Chicago’s oppressive winter meets its match on this album.

08. Burial, Untrue [Hyperdub] (buy)
If dubstep ever does crossover into the pop realm, Untrue will likely be the first to crack its rarely porous shell. At first I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of vocals which distinguishes the album from its predecessor, and ultimately perches melodic halos on Burial’s urban phantom rhythms. In his rather revealing interview with The Wire, Burial admits the final version of Untrue was composed in a scant two weeks, a baffling fact to consider when basking in the depth of its tunes, the murky landscapes from which they crawl out — not to mention when “Archangel” gets caught in your head. Untrue gives me the good shivers.

09. Tiger Stripes, Safari [Nite Grooves] (buy)
If there’s one house record I neglected to tout enough, it’s certainly Safari, Mikael Nordgren’s first compendium of Tiger Stripes tracks. Though many of these tracks were previously released on King Street Sounds, they hang together remarkably well in the long player format. Here Nordgren’s palatte leans towards classic elements of house through live instrumentation, recruiting Swedish Hitmusic Strings, Kerri Chandler’s keys and Rasmus Faber’s marimba. If mnmlzd house is too emaciated for you, stick on Safari and climb through some meaty rhythms.

10. Gui Boratto, Chromophobia [Kompakt] (buy)
Boratto is particularly apt at sculpting big, bold and beautiful melodies which resonate across genre lines; and with Chromophobia (Kompakt’s best release this year, don’t let The Field fans fool you), the Brazilian producer adds “cohesion” and “diversity” to his list of talents. Lush, hovering ambient tracks like “Acrostico” and “Malá Strana” fit snuggly between big room bangers (“Terminal”) and future stadium anthems (“Beautiful Life”) while providing plenty of fodder for remixers (Babicz’s remix of “Mr. Decay” has been a big local favorite). A very 2007 album for a very 2007 year.

Honorable mentions:

11. Various artists, Soundboy Punishments [Skull Disco] (buy)
12. Justice, † [Vice Records] (buy)
13. Various Artists, Shut Up and Dance! Updated [Ostgut Tonträger] (buy)
14. Pantha Du Prince, This Bliss [Dial] (buy)
15. Thomas Fehlmann, Honigpumpe [Kompakt] (buy)
16. Simian Mobile Disco, Attack Decay Sustain Release [Wichita] (buy)
17. False, 2007 [M_nus] (buy)
18. Dettmann & Klock, Scenario [Ostgut Tonträger] (buy)
19. Cobblestone Jazz, 23 Seconds [Studio !K7] (buy)
20. Petre Inspirescu, Tips [Cadenza] (buy)

After DJing a couple weeks back I had a few people ask me if I was presently playing out anywhere. As per usual, I simply replied, “Not yet; I don’t get to DJ much.” I think it’s about time to change that. Here’s a little mix I did tonight, just for fun. It’s not particularly current or technically perfect, but I had fun mixing it which is what counts. Expect to see more off the cuff mixes around these parts.

Listen: Little White Earbuds Mix, 12.18.07 (download; 45:31)

Tracklisting:

01. James Kartsaklis, “Lo-Glo” [unreleased]
02. Nick Solé, “Children” [Mojuba]
03. Lee Jones, “There Comes A Time” [Aus Music]
04. Microworld, “DB” (Webo Mix) [Catalog.]
05. Melchior Productions, “Over the Rise” [Playhouse]
06. Pépé Bradock, “Deep Burnt” [Kif Recordings]
07. Metazoo, “Sigh” (2000 and One remix) [Cray1 Labworks]
08. Efdemin, “Just a Track” [Dial]
09. Motorcitysoul, “Space Kätzle” (Sydenham Blacktro Penetration) [Aus Music]