[Skam]

Before Autechre were Autechre, they were, for the briefest of moments, Lego Feet. Rob Brown and Sean Booth’s 1991 LP under the moniker came and very quickly went on Manchester’s Skam label, where another purported Autechre offshoot, Gescom, put forth its peculiar discography. In the more than 20 years that have passed since it dropped, it’s developed the kind of mythic aura (and Discogs prices) that such prequels occasionally emanate. Having been far, far too young to experience Lego Feet the first time around (and too poor, or at least not desperately curious enough, to seek out the original vinyl release), I was thrilled to see Skam’s expanded CD reissue in my local record shop this winter. Skam’s website reports that, “due to the amount of death threats, begging letters, and ransom notes,” Lego Feet will once again be available on vinyl soon. And I’m genuinely thrilled to report it offers more than just a curio collection for Autechre completists: while the aforementioned will undoubtedly appreciate a window into Brown and Booth before they’d fully come into their Autechreness, students of dance music in general will enjoy hearing the gamut of 1980s dance music tropes cracking at their foundations.

To speak of Lego Feet as anything but a single work is basically pointless: as on the original, where the usual visual delineations between cuts were absent, the CD contains no individual tracks, just four lengthy CD skip points packed sardine-like with shorter pieces. Start the thing up and you’re quickly caught in a web of punchy 303 lines, turntable cuts, noisy drum machines, and ever-present tape hiss — at its release, a kind of textbook summation of electronic dance music thus far. But Lego Feet’s soundworld hardly sounds like the work of producers content to merely report on a decade of musical trends and technologies. DJs will find no bangers here, just the stuff of bangers past pushed to the limits of genre-recognition. To my ears, Lego Feet is the sound of the 80s beset with scowl and acne, an agitated and deeply angsty iteration of musics embracing their awesomely awkward adolescence. Autechre fans will certainly draw parallels with Incunabula, the duo’s debut-in-earnest, and legions of outspoken Discogs doubters may find it their most easily digestible record save Amber. But the essence of what made Autechre Autechre — that willingness to let the bugs in your code evolve into complex organisms, no matter how sinister their machinations — is only suggested here. If Warp’s massive (and essential) EPS 1991 – 2002 reissue brought that essence into focus like no other single Autechre missive could, then Lego Feet shows where the group began carving out its singular niche — not to mention whence came some of the weirdest electronic excursions of the 1990s.

[Emphasis Recordings]

Steven Tang has covered a lot of ground since debuting on his own Emphasis Recordings in 1998. Whether as Obsolete Music Technology, Misguided, or under his own name, the Chicago producer has tackled several sides of Chicago house and incorporated wider influences. He dove deep into dreamy techno and whipped up a frenzy with more jacking house, often finding the complimentary points between the styles. Yet in all that time he’s never made significant use of vocals, which is honestly somewhat rare for a Chi-town producer. With the Mmmmmusic single as Obsolete Music Technology, Tang finds a clever way to work the element which long eluded him into his established sound.

The title track stretches soothing synth chords over the pleasant jangle of hi-hats in a manner not unlike the best of Fred P., but it’s soon distinguished by an unexpected salvo of tightly grouped vocal syllables. The novel use of this deep, rambling sound — inconspicuously traced by a congruent 303-style pattern — injects a curious energy that propels the tune past more languid deep tracks. A brief, beatless “Reprise” follows, letting the spacious synths breathe. Chicago Skyway plays up the vocal elements as well as the physical energy in his “Pay Toll Mix.” Triggering different octave versions of the vocals forms an undulating mosaic stitched together by vigorous, steady percussion. When the vocals tangle almost as if by mistake, the drum patterns switch and become more bracing, pushing dancers further into the groove as more singular vocals ring out between the many hits. A second OMT original, “Distance,” is perhaps more expected but no less beautiful, daubing quavering leads on balmy chords and resilient drum programming. Tang’s continued development some 15 years into his career is impressive, and the strides made on Mmmmmusic seem likely to intensify the respect he’s earned during that time.

[Cave Paintings]

Those keeping tabs on the crude daubings of Cave Paintings know the score by now. One session, one take. All analog, all Andy Blake, mastered directly to the vinyl lathe, with no digital interference. Cave Paintings appears to be the most personal of all of Blake’s passion projects, but after the ferociously prolific and short-lived of output of Dissident, and with the newest of his new labels, In Plain Sight, already snapping at its heels, it’ll be interesting to see how much more thrust Cave Paintings (with its limitations and occasional output) will have over Blake’s need to regularly salt the earth and move on. For the meantime at least, Cave Paintings reveals a rare bit of single-mindedness from the Brit.

With a raw house cut on its X-side and and a lopsided techno beast on the Y, Cave Paintings 3 falls rhythmically between 1, which jacked in spite of its infinite and strictly sequenced repeating patterns, and 2, which featured spectacular spirographs of odd tangents and shifting angles. 3 points to a new preoccupation of Blake’s, with the upper registers of the hardware spectrum, and particularly with prodding the polite boundaries of sound distortion. There are nuances to be found within both tracks, but at its most intense moments “3X” savors flooding the senses with frequencies that seem designed purely to upset teeth fillings and sinuses. “3Y” is in turns both easier and harder, swooping, throbbing and restless, but its otherwise otherworldly atmosphere acts like negative space, keeping it on the safe side of disorientation. Although the top-heavy sound quality of Cave Paintings 3 may be an acquired taste, it still naturally selects itself into the pool of successful all-analog excursions.

[Uzuri]

Sean Hernandez is apart from a lot of the producers of Chicago house in that unlike many who favor the genre, he is actually a native of the city. To date his output has included a couple of ethereal sounding EP’s on M>O>S as well as harder-nosed fare on Eargasmic and Uzuri. The Londonium EP marks Hernandez’s second outing for Uzuri and only one of two EPs he released in 2011, though he also left his mark via some outstanding remixes.

“London Streets,” the lead track off the EP is a roughed up, tracky excursion that recalls the best of early DJ Sneak and Felix Da Housecat. Highly strung organs blast out pulses of detuned chords that hang in the air like a heavy mist, joined by on-beat snares and tight, thumping kicks. As the tension mounts, complimentary chords in a higher key call back a maniacal response, adding an unhinged element to the drama of the lead melody. Fellow Chicagoan Hakim Murphy takes a bass-lead approach on his remix of “London Streets,” keeping things in very much the same track-based style, but opting for a cleaner, more clipped sound to the percussion and using the opposing chord melodies more sparingly, bringing them in and out of the mix to complement the bass line.

The nasally, worming acid in “Traffic” manages to just keep itself under control for the duration of the track, the wriggling bass beaten back by wave upon wave of rimshots and sloppy, brash hi-hats. Where the other tracks still felt constrained in some way, “Noise” is completely unchecked, from the eroded kicks to the crumbling, digital wipes of broken circuitry and the overdriven percussion. The deliberately sloppy, lacerated grooves have an almost primal edge to them, making the other tracks sound prim in comparison. Though both mixes of “London Streets” are more obvious picks, it’s “Noise” that sticks with you on Londonium, a hard gem that shines through its rough-hewn surface.

[Hessle Audio]

Dubstep at 124 beats per minute? What with Pinch’s recent releases on Swamp 81 and this Hessle Audio debut from London/Berlin wunderkind Objekt, you’d think this almost were a “thing.” Sure, “Cactus” isn’t really dubstep, but it sure sounds like it. Lurching to life with a demented swagger — those tough, deadened drums halfway between techno and metallic dubstep that have become Objekt’s trademark — “Cactus” lets off little squiggles of LFO that sound like they crawled out from under the remnants some old Coki dubplate. When it finally drops, it’s a doozy, all thundering subs and mean, wiggling LFO: it doesn’t get much more dubstep than this, really, except that it sounds like a garage track having a conniption fit. The track is remarkably unfriendly to DJs, unpredictable and strangely built, but chances are you’ll know it from Ben UFO’s Rinse CD from last year, where its brutal second drop made one of the highlights of an already fantastic mix.

A slow, pounding track with obnoxious LFO wobbles might not sound like the most ideal thing in 2012, but “Cactus” pulls it off perfectly, largely thanks to Objekt’s absolutely incredible sound design skills. There’s a stark spatiality that renders every move inflated and fearsome, but there’s also a vivacity to his sounds that feels missing from so much limp, lifeless bass music these days. Every sub-bass squall is gut-wrenching, the drums are like pistons, and the slowly swimming hi-hats slice through eardrums like butter. It’s that grasp of mixing, pacing and structuring that makes the single’s B-side even stronger: “Porcupine” immediately feels like a speed demon in comparison, cycling through a demonic military march looped at all the wrong points so it has a similar terrifying stagger to “Cactus.” It continues in this fashion for a while, as the bass line mutates and contorts behind it; but the track’s really all about the breakdown, wherein the drums dissolve into billowing pockets of dub techno gloss, slippery, iridescent chords that dissipate and bloat at will until the drums come crashing back in coated in filmy synths. It’s the best dub techno never made.

Exhilaratingly propulsive and powerful without resorting to outright brutality, there’s some sort of alchemy involved in the way Objekt fuels his tracks, the sort of building energy that’ll have you doing embarrassing air drumming moves before you even realize it. Previous tracks like “CLK Recovery” showed a restless spirit venturing through epic techno odysseys, but his Hessle Audio debut has him more focused and ferocious than ever, the distilled essence of a producer whose sound was already reduced to the point of monochrome. No producer since Peverelist has made cold grey machinery sound so brilliant, and “Cactus” is an incredibly exciting return for a label that’s been quiet for over half a year now.

[Harbour City Sorrow]

“True house music” — the term rolls off the tongue these days, and many would have you believe it cannot be made without 707 handclaps and an MPC full of Gil Scott Heron quotes. Not only does this kind of thinking limit one’s creativity, it ignores a very fruitful decade of house made in (and with) the digital age. Consider, however, electro: it’s hard to even conceive of the sound without the 808, and since the Drexcyen storms it’s remained relatively unchanged. It’s an older genre than house or techno, and perhaps its age reinforces certain sonic restrictions; if anything were to fall under Justice Potter Stewart’s “I know it when I [hear] it” maxim, electro would be it.

E.R.P. is the electro alias of Convextion (Texas’ Gerard Hanson), and he’s been reliably putting out the good stuff for over 10 years. Lunar Ruins comes to us courtesy of Rotterdam’s Harbour City Sorrow, which (perhaps unsurprisingly) has close ties with Clone. And in case there were any doubt left that this is an electro record, the main stars of the title track are the 808 and SH-101. It’s a wonderful slice of moody Detroit goodness: an insistent, kinetic bass line cuts through shimmering minor-key pads and a sea of 808 toms, while “Into The Distance” reaches ecstatic heights and “Mimosa Canopy” mines the aquatic Drexcyen depths, resembling some of their more stoned, outré moments. Lunar Ruins doesn’t move electro far from where it’s been moored for the past 15 years, but then it doesn’t need to. Sounds phase in and out of popularity, and few more so than electro, which seems to be creeping into everything at the moment. But a handful of figures like E.R.P. stay true to this sound through thick and thin, and it’s our loss if we let gems like “Lunar Ruins” pass us by.

[Hotflush Recordings]

Over the past year the music released by Hotflush has become ever more imposing. Grandiose techno such as Paul Woolford & Psycatron’s “Stolen,” Scuba’s own driving and melodic “Adrenaline,” the recent Locked Groove 12″ — all have seen the imprint grow ever more suited to the biggest rooms while, thankfully, never straying too close to lurid territory. But while the imprint’s output has remained high quality, there has also been an encroaching gloss — and conservatism — that has tempered the earlier, more visceral excitement of rawer releases by artists such as Untold or Pangaea. Sigha’s Abstractions I-IV is a case in point: a hulking and nuanced set that offers a restrained and authentic forward drive, if lacking somewhat in originality.

Opening with a beatless salvo — “Something In Between Us” — the combination of ambient outdoors vista and lush pad work is beautiful, but by no means an indication of what lies in wait. Indeed, although beatless tracks have been a part of the landscape since time immemorial, in techno circles they often hold more than a passing element of menace. This one simply shines. Any feeling of elation is short lived, however. “Where I Come To Forget” leads with a sparse arrangement, cavernous kicks broken by a cracking snare on the offbeat. Some tracks simply demand to be thoroughly worked, this being one of them. Each element of the tune is brought in slowly (the whole thing lasts eight minutes), and clicks along with Teutonic precision; it takes a very real engineering skill to create such a beguiling — and damned near perfect — DJ tool.

Not everything here is quite as captivating, however. There is perhaps a small element of techno karaoke to certain Sigha tracks, with audible influence drawn down from firmly within the genre. Third track, “How To Disappear,” is a decent case in point: the oscillating synth work, ticking percussion and ominous atmospherics straying far too close to Sandwell territory for comfort. Final track, “Drown,” draws this set to a roundly satisfying close. The dank atmospherics and dusky pads are underpinned by some serious sub weight, and a satisfyingly heavy atmosphere of industrial rot prevails. While Sigha may be some way off from finding a truly original voice within techno, his work is serious and accomplished nonetheless, offering an ever-increasing bounty of slick productions. Abstractions I-IV is a skilled EP, shot through with moments of quiet beauty.

[Groovement]

In an interview from 2010, Ka§par referred to his music as “out of the norm” and cited his Portuguese residence as a contributing factor that kept him from breaking through. In this day and age, geographic location plays less of a role in deciding artist viability than the former. Ka§par’s style is nominally house, but walks an interesting and perhaps paradoxical line of jazzy chords and shuffling percussion with club-friendly effects and occasionally vocal driven. His recent Ode To The Ancients EP stays close to that course but offers some intriguing bypasses, as well.

The title track is highlighted by a moody chord progression, vocal calls that sound like bird squawks, and dense, clattering percussion before a spacey breakdown and rebuild occurs. It feels familiar, but the percussive intricacies and a wobbly bass set it apart. On “Twin Sparkle,” Ka§par provides a more utilitarian track, using an analog bass line reminiscent of early Chicago house, seesawing hi-hats, and melisma-like vocals from himself. The lead synth melody and the vocal usage are memorable but the stabs and derivative bass don’t do it any favors. “Able To Find,” on the flip, evokes an altogether different vibe, incorporating a stuttered, syncopated rhythm, syrupy Rhodes and a whistling synth melody. Promo descriptions have referred to it as “post-dubstep,” but with a soulful vocal it bears greater resemblance to earlier broken beat styling. Ross McMillan, working as Carlos Nilmmns, delivers a remix of “Able To Find” which lands in a luscious deep house grotto. He heavily processes the vocal until it sounds like slurred alien speak, adds spacey atmospherics and employs a sluggish rhythm that moves from raw, minimal percussion to a clattering hi-hat and snare boogie. It’s the layered piano lines brought in during the breakdown, however, that raise this remix to great heights. It’s a short segment late in the track, but the jazzy soloing demands attention and stays rooted in your head long afterward. The Ode To The Ancients EP seems to prove that Ka§par’s strongest tracks are those which buck convention.

[Type Records]

Up on techno’s Mount Olympus sits Chain Reaction, content in the fact that few techno labels have ever been quite so revered. Where Basic Channel invented and perfected a sound, they drafted a team of like-minded cohorts to expand that sound, and records such as Vladislav Delay’s Multila and Vainqueur’s Elevation have few equals. Unfortunately, some of this stuff remains rather difficult to find (unlike Ernestus and von Oswald’s own work), and the task of reissuing it has been left to other institutions. Enter Type Records, a label that has consistently wandered the outskirts of techno without getting its proverbial feet wet. Their first “proper” techno record comes in the form of a reissue of Biokinetics, the fabled work of Porter Ricks (Thomas Köner and Andy Mellwig) and Chain Reaction’s first CD release. Like pretty much all of the CDs on Chain Reaction, this was mostly a collection of previously released 12″s, but the label and its artists had such a consistent sound that the CDs often flowed like proper albums.

As far as how the album sounds sonically, all the usual touchstones are represented: the steady thump, thump, thump of the kick cutting through leagues of hazy materials, the glacial pace at which those elements evolve, the extended runtimes. Dub techno has always seemed to have a very terrestrial, elemental quality to it, and these tracks reflect that in spades, especially given the explicit nautical references in the titles. “Port Gentil” and “Port of Call” are exemplary pieces of techno regardless of genre, but for those well versed in this scene’s history, the album contains few surprises. The notable exception, and clear highlight of the album, is “Biokinetics 2,” a cavernous, engrossing piece of music that has much more to do with Köner’s trilogy of dark drone works (also reissued by Type) than anything else on the album’s two pieces of wax.

The Nuba “suite” of tracks is the other standout moment, clicking away with mauled rhythms that have seemingly very little respect for the 4/4 kick’s sense of time. Everything here is immaculately produced and results in a deeply satisfying listen, but it’s a little difficult to shake the feeling of déjà vu. Biokinetics is very clearly a landmark piece of music that should be tracked down and purchased without hesitation, but the heads who have long deified this stuff will find there’s not a whole lot new to discover. How exciting (or not) a reissue is tends to come down to one’s familiarity with the scene that it came from, and given that the Basic Channel/Chain Reaction family is a permanent member of techno’s canon, I can imagine lots of Porter Ricks virgins enjoying the hell out of Biokinetics, but not necessarily having their minds blown.

[State Of Joy]

Entering underground consciousness as one third of the much-hyped “purple trinity” (alongside Joker and Gemmy) that broke through the Bristol underground in 2008, Guido makes quirky and idiosyncratic dubstep, imbued with eccentricity and a keen ear for melodic progression. His 2010 debut LP on Punch Drunk, Anidea, was a richly satisfying record that scaled the emergent hinterland between dubstep and R&B, adding a bounty of vibrant color to a scene where grayscale can sometimes proliferate. But while a wearying host of producers now appropriate R&B — chopping and splicing 90s diva vocals ad infinitum — Guido’s music is largely free of such hackneyed devices, relying instead upon virtuoso synth work. On this first 12″ for his new State of Joy imprint he offers two slightly more subdued cuts, refining his exuberant melodic kinks with a newfound slickness.

“Micro X” kicks off with a Middle Eastern-flavored rising arpeggio and queasy bass that is joined by a heavily processed guitar lick. And while previous work has displayed a slightly lo-fi aesthetic in terms of mixdown, this is highly polished work, with each element sitting pretty amongst impressive detailing. Fans of vintage Italo disco and 80s soundtracks will certainly be enamored with the perfectly rendered vintage drum sounds used in the track’s later stages. By proxy, “Vessel Dogs” is an even more relaxed proposition. The samples used include dusty wah-wah funk guitar and a lilting harp that sits tightly against a classic half step beat, nudging the track along with an understated poise. Perhaps what stands out most about this release, however, is that Guido manages to use elements which in lesser hands would be rather overwhelming — harsh synth leads, wobble bass — and meld them into something both beguiling and compulsive. A very strong release from one of the best-kept secrets in the bass spectrum.