Archive for the ‘Reviews’ Category

Samiyam

Posted by ianbrainer

Rather than a nihilistic cop out the title of this record, ‘Sam Baker’s Album’, is a bold statement of creative ownership – one that LA-based Samiyam more than lives up to. The album’s 17 tracks span just 40 minutes, yet amidst the analogous haze and compressed productions that mark this work there is amazingly little that isn’t touched upon.

His first album proper is, ostensibly, a collection of hip-hop beats. However, these beats are touched with fragments from myriad other genres. There’s a nod to electro, funk and soul all of which serve to create a new woozy, otherworldly feel. It’s all very disorientating. Lurching from ‘Bricks’ and its dubby swirls to the synth heavy ‘Where am I?’ there is no apparent narrative, yet a common ‘hip-hop’ quality means ‘Sam Baker’s Album’ remains pleasingly cohesive. Whilst some songs can sound incomplete or roughly hewn when taken in isolation, such as the one dimensional ‘Already’ which fades into ignoble obscurity, Samiyam’s musical vignettes can, for the most part, stand alone although they carry far greater weight side by side as part of this progressive group.

Opener ‘Escape’ transforms itself from its nervous dry stuttering intro into a beat possessed of burly, surging swagger. This de and reconstruction is indicative of Samiyam’s desire to explore the boundaries of contemporary production; a trait that sees ‘Sam Baker’s Album’ position seemingly disparate ideas alongside each other.  Dry staccato drums and slow, heavy electronica style bleeps and baselines such as those on ‘Wonton Special’ juxtapose micro studies, such as the organic swirls that see kittens or the ubiquitous video game sounds fade in and out of tracks like ‘Frosting Pancake’ and ‘Kitties’, into the unique brand of sampling that’s currently in vogue.

Ultimately though, whilst the album is instantly recognisable as instrumental hip-hop, it’s more than that. Like a collage, no matter how brilliant, it’s not what’s initially apparent that captures your imagination. Instead the real interest lies in the collage’s unique genesis and creation. So, whilst some of the disparate individual tracks seem prematurely clipped and overly looped, it’s difficult not to immerse yourself in the fractured whole they create. Even the recurring criticism of certain tracks not feeling fully developed is borne out of impatience at wanting to see where Samiyam could have taken them.

Words: Joseph Clarke-Knowles

‘Sam Baker’s Album’ is out now on Brainfeeder.

SAMIYAM – Cushion by BRAINFEEDER

 

Shabazz Palaces

Posted by ianbrainer

I never really examined how I listen to music. It should be pretty straightforward, right? Press play. Listen. Like/dislike. Every now and then discus/argue merits/failings with like-minded enlightened individuals/deluded philistines. Alternative hip-hop group Shabazz Palaces seem fairly set on doing away with such a simplistic attitude. You know, Shabazz Palaces. Oh you don’t? Well you’re not alone, and it appears that’s the way they like it. Digable Planets member Ishmael “Butterfly” Butler, aka Palaceer Lazaro has returned to Seattle with unknown collaborators for ‘Black Up’, and that’s pretty much all the information they’re prepared to relinquish. Like an exhibition with no captions by the artwork, one suspects Shabazz Palaces want you to have an uninformed and raw response to their art.

My first reaction on listening to ‘Black Up’ was fairly cynical. I think the word ‘pretentious’ might have popped into my head (judgemental? Moi?). And yet as soon as it had finished playing I immediately played it through again. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but there was something nagging at me to listen again. And as I listened again (or maybe for the first time) I started to understand. Shabazz Palaces have served up a gourmet taster menu for the ears so densely crammed with aural delicacies that it’s impossible to partake of without indulging oneself. Tracks shift unnervingly between themes, beats and samples, and at times there is a slight sense of disappointment that we’re not allowed more time to savour them. Rather than a criticism, it seems a very conscious decision by the artists to never let the listener settle, to constantly hold their attention. And therein lies the nature of ‘Black Up’. It’s the tie that’s not quite straight, the only book upside down in the bookcase or the kid in the school photo looking the wrong way. It appears designed to keep you off-balance. There is a sense of deconstruction, and a refusal to conform to repetitive nature of strophic form song structure.

‘Free Press and Curl’, the album’s opener creeps and slips along on a jarring, reverberating high end beat over which is draped a wailing sample, which then transitions into what could quite easily be another track. The hauntingly distorted vocal samples are a feature Shabazz Palaces utilise several times throughout ‘Black Up’, and this evokes a ritualistic and ceremonial ambience, such as on the echoing production of ‘Recollections of the Wraith’. They also demonstrate a diverse range of influences. The smoky underground jazz club conjured up by the smouldering ‘Endeavours for Never…’ drapes a languid arm quite easily around the Dilla-esque ‘Are You… Can you… Were you? (Felt)’ a lush, soulful track, its short piano loops sitting on a bed of distorted strings.

This is not an album that one can readily define, and as much as I’ve tried, words don’t really do it justice. If you like music to challenge and engage you, music that will make you listen as opposed to just hear, then listen to this.

Words: Leo Bennett

‘Black Up’ is out now on Sub Pop.

Starkey

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It’s rare that I come to an album with so little knowledge of its genesis. My first thought on seeing Starkey’s name was, rather worryingly, that I’d have to endure the electronic musings of everyone’s favourite ill-tempered historian David Starkey. Fortunately, we’re dealing with a very different creature. This Starkey, or PJ Gessinger to his parents, is concerned instead with the futuristic. ‘Space Traitor Vol. 2′ is both an exploration of and beyond the current bass scene as well as a bullish call to arms.

This album comprises of six vastly different tracks united by their newness, as well as a selection of remixes from artists whose inclusion marks them as being at the forefront of Starkey’s march into sonic territories unexplored. Opener ‘Lost In Space’ sees Starkey populate that now familiar ethereal, astral creation until it’s morphed into something entirely alien. First his own forlorn, obscured vocals grow in urgency until they’re joined by the spiky percussion and waves of wobbly bass that act as a bed for guest vocalist Charlie XCX and her unique brand of robotised pop swagger; the track’s conclusion is a far cry from its languid beginnings.

Starkey revels in creating the dislocating and unexpected; an idea made abundantly clear on ‘Cockroaches’ where he laments those “staying in that simple box, regurgitate the same loop over”. Starkey’s work is unmistakably refreshing and innovative, but even he still leans on the past. Largely resisting the tactile, sparse minimalism that’s so prevalent at the moment, Starkey evokes the brazen, bullying bass lines of old. Carefully chosen elements of that seemingly played out dubstep sound begin to look both big and clever under Starkey’s guidance. ‘Sunlight’ and ‘Street Rockers’ are bass heavy, percussion rich and unapologetic. They may not elicit the same critical response as some of his ‘quieter’ peers, but these creations can’t help but draw a smile. The stark contrast of the vocals that briefly animate ‘Sunshine’ in the fleeting absence of the unsophisticated bass is brilliantly indicative of this sense of fun.

Despite having reanimated a musical cadaver, Starkey’s far from finished. The final three original pieces see the Philly beat maker reign in the BPMs with nods to lolloping hip-hop on the grimey ‘Bricks’, and classical music with the strings on the eerily minimal ‘Craters’ before a spoken word interlude (naturally) introduces a host of remixes. Whilst ‘Space Traitor Vol. 2′ represents a nice change of pace from the current bass music scene, it’s far from perfect. It’s perhaps a consequence of trying to say too much, but the tracks hang together loosely. Meaning we have a collection of refreshing oddities rather than a coherent attack on the status quo our exuberant producer has grown weary of.

Words: Joseph Clarke Knowles

The ‘Space Traitor Vol. 2′ EP is out now on Civil Music.

Jehst

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So, was Jehst your postman? To the lucky person who managed to capture it on video, props. For the rest of us, the man named William Shields has done the rounds and delivered a letter containing 16 tracks of customary visceral beats and bars. It’s been a while coming, and there is always a void when he’s not around. Like an urban inertia.

The only doubt on anticipating ‘The Dragon of an Ordinary’ Family was knowing that the production credits for ¾ of the album would be left to other people. Not that it would be wise to immediately suggest they were inferior, but we’re talking about Jehst here – not many producers come close to matching his craft.

‘True Intentions’ bounces in and any worries are thrown aside. Introduced by a sample from Walk The Line, where producer Sam Phillips tells Johnny Cash to rise above the mire of mediocrity and safeness to sing a song that would make him timeless – Jehst throws down.  Similar to his back catalogue ‘Dragon’ is dotted with rich lyrical narratives that were always highlights (’1979′, ‘Falling Down’, ‘Monotony’, ‘Hydroblowback’). There is also the usual head-nodding swagger, to form the perfect juxtaposition of skirting both concrete streets and intellectual poetry.

Tracks such as ‘Tears In Rain’, ‘Poison’ and ‘Camberwell Carrots’ showcase his often-lauded ability to drench a song with emotion in his voice and story-telling however ambiguous or focused. These bounce off ‘The Illest’, ‘Thinking Crazy’ and ‘Old No. 7′, all built around punchy boom-bap, jazzy effects and liquor-soaked guitar licks.

‘England’ immediately stands above its peers as a vicious commentary on 21st century life. Over a simple piano stratum and dusty drums Jehst muses on the excesses and insidious nature of how our modern institutions wield too much control and power; “Police have got too much power, now they move like a menace just ask Jean Charles De Menezes”.

It’s Jehst’s testament to drawn out syncopated syntax which makes his off-the-beat style so beguiling. His penchant for English colloquialisms (“you see my art attack like Neil Buchanan“), self-deprecation (“I want to get rich like Donald Trump, but I’m looking at my crib like what a dump”) and wrapping the image of the ‘every day’ into inventive rhyming couplets.

One minor quibble is the beat on ‘Timeless’, which is eerily similar to ‘Monotony’, and could therefore be seen as its younger, less intelligent brother. But even when one beat doesn’t quite grab you as much as other tracks, what keeps your ears tuned in is his lyrical nimbleness and wordplay: “Time is the inner-man’s eye understand, smashing the hourglass scattering the sand”.

His reach and appeal goes beyond ‘UK Hip-Hop’, even a fellow from the band Hurts has recently expressed his love for him in the NME. When Jehst comes back around, everybody is immediately inferior, like the man says on ‘The Illest’: “kill a lyricist and leave them swimming with the fishes”. In the aquarium of UK music, Shields is a great white shark.

Words: Chris McShee

‘The Dragon of an Ordinary Family’ is out June 27th on YNR. Jehst launches his new album at fabric on Friday 17th June.

Gang Colours

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Brownswood is on a bit of a roll at the moment.  Ghostpoet’s debut was delicious, the Brownswood Electr*c 2 album is a veritable feast and this fun size 4-track debut EP from Southampton’s Gang Colours – aka 23-year-old Will Ozanne – is very tasty.  I don’t profess to know a great deal about this recent addition to Gilles Peterson’s stable but, given the level of variety and upbeat sounds, I like what I hear.

Indeed, it’s an airy debut with garage throwbacks and synth-led melodies redolent of a headier time of dance music.  ‘Village and City’ certainly carries the hallmarks of UK garage but he counters this with otherworldly SFX and the sort of dizzying noise that marks yet another failed attempt on a retro arcade game.  It’s cool and uplifting as the village wording suggests, although not prosaically suburban.  An uplifting tonic perhaps for the fantastic, yet altogether grittier, inner city sounds of Burial.

Impressively, Ozanne doesn’t feel the need to clutter every nook and cranny with complex beats and, instead, there’s a mature calmness that runs throughout.  Nonetheless, ‘Fireworks in Pocket’ has a particularly catchy hook and it’s not surprising that the Artful Dodger is cited as an influence.  The female vocals on this one are distinctly sparser and, dare I say it, a helluva lot less cheesy than the latter.  Elsewhere, ‘Dance around the Subject’ has a really effective build to a jittery drop while still keeping intact that buoyant quality.  ‘In Your Gut like a Knife’ is quietly expansive and a serene way to finish; there’s no obligation on Gang Colours’ part to create an over-the-top finish.

Gang Colours is another one to add to the roster of emerging talent on this label – the knives are most certainly out for drab, posturing, try-hard dance music.

Words: Ben Nicholas

The ‘In Your Gut Like A Knife’ EP is out June 6th on Brownswood Recordings.

Amon Tobin

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Amon Tobin has been for years – 15, give or take a few – one of the most exciting talents in electronic music.  It’s always been hard, nay impossible, to pin his biennially-produced albums down which further highlights him as a true pioneer and creator of ineffable sonic richness.  ‘Isam’ epitomises this and feels like it’s been in slow gestation since his auspicious early works.  In spite of Tobin’s frequent experimentation – or more fittingly exploration – more recent Tobin works have become slightly more accessible.  Then, along comes this LP to wrong foot you good and proper.  Not that footing seems an altogether appropriate concept in this most freakish of surroundings.  Relying on the sounds Tobin has recorded and then re-coded, it’s an album of Huxleyan scale and enough to distance less persistent listeners.  It’s expansive while taking up a position as one of the strangest albums I’ve listened to in a while and – having made the mistake of drifting off to sleep listening – it scared the shit out of my subconscious.  Achtung.

From its mescaline-fuelled nascency – via the buzzing craft of ‘Journeyman’ and spinning top brutality of ‘Piece of Paper’ – ‘Isam’ feels like a synthetic life form imitating nature.  As much a replicant interpreting the natural life that exists around him into music, Tobin uses field recordings to make sounds that are otherworldly.  Explorative sci-fi segued sounds come naturally in this environment.

‘Surge’ is an incredible track mixing artificial whirls with organic flute noises to bridge the synapses.  The cocktail of ‘Lost & Found’ is truly staggering and showcases this LP at its strongest – Far Eastern strings and elusive gender-reversed vocals are surrounded by robotic bass howls; three parts dread to one part melancholy.  ‘Wooden Toy’ presents a dreamlike state for the exploration of ‘Isam”s budding automaton before the terrifying creep of ‘Mass & Spring’ kicks in.

In many ways, ‘Isam’ seems to mark a cyclical spiritual journey (‘Dropped from the Sky’ could easily feed back into the original track completing the album’s mandala form) and ‘Calculate’ marks its chrysalis stage as the brooding strings awaken the creature once more.  The surrealist ‘Kitty Cat’ is displaced by (the antithesis of twilight-Jackanory) ‘Bedtime Stories’.  This begins nice as pie before descending into nightmarish territory.  When the bass lacerates at the 2:10 minute mark, Tobin goes to show he can unleash some of the grimiest, most nerve-shattering and downright sodomitic sounds to rival the best of them.

At the end of the day – after all my ruminations above – do I like it? Well, that’s not exactly straightforward to articulate.  I love the fact that Tobin continues to push the boundaries and ‘Isam”s ebb and flow is fascinating and engrossing with its ability to take on so many forms another demonstration of riches.  But, in as much as this can be viewed as a plus and a very reluctant negative, it is deeply complex and any listener has to take into account the murkiness of its depths and its marked intensity.  The reward isn’t obvious or familiar – but it’s there, hidden, yet within reach.

Words: Ben Nicholas

‘Isam’ is out now on Ninja Tune.

http://ninjatune.net/artist/amon-tobin

‘ISAM’ – Full album with track-by-track commentary from Amon Tobin by Amon Tobin

TOKiMONSTA

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Jennifer ’TOKiMONSTA’ Lee’s ‘Creature Dreams’ is a warm yet disorientating collection of beats that document her nocturnal working hours. Lee’s claim that “my mind works in strange and mysterious ways” at that time of night, is a sentiment that will resonate with electronic music fans, and those long sprawling after hours are keenly felt on the record. Beats swell and recede from the off; ‘Fallen Arches’ – the album’s opener – oscillates from being in sharp focus to aqueous and distant, conjuring that sense of fleeting lucidity in a sea of tripped out bliss. This is a pattern that endures both within tracks and on ‘Creature Dreams’ as a whole. The compressed digitised urgency of ‘Bright Shadows’, for example, offers an enlivening riposte to the sparse, fuzzy blooms that Lee layers under Gavin Turek’s beautifully weary vocals on ‘Little Pleasures’.

A patient exploration of those hazy night time hours, Lee’s restraint serves ‘Creature Dreams’ well. Her decision to eschew the instant gratification of the ‘boom bap’ beat and even further prune her already delicate creations to allow Turek’s vocals space on ‘Little Pleasures’ and the fantastically paranoid ‘Darkest (Dim)’ illustrates a maturity and command of texture and space. In letting Gavin Turek’s voice take the fore, Lee ensures there’s no chance of the album sliding into dreamy monotony. It’s not all about pared back production though, for this is a comprehensive illustration of Jennifer Lee’s skills. The dense and claustrophobic ‘Day Job’ feels like being enveloped by a blanket and acts as a concluding lullaby as ‘Creature Dreams’ fades to black.

Rife with beautifully constructed hallucinatory soundscapes, ‘Creature Dreams’ is a triumph. No one is going to lose their shit to this album, but that’s beside the point. These are beats born of, and perfect for, the after hours. TOKiMONSTA paints her dreamy electronic images so vividly, that at its best you can’t help but relive those stolen hours. A piece of brilliant sonic escapism, it’s just as hard to leave as a warm bed.

Words: Joseph Clarke-Knowles

‘Creature Dreams’ is out 16th May on Brainfeeder.

Tokimonsta – Little Pleasures (feat. Gavin Turek)

DELS

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‘Gob’:  Spit.  Mouth – loudmouth, even.  Define it how you want but it’s an ostensibly apt, yet, ultimately misleading title for this rapper-cum-graphic designer’s debut album.  For, yes, Kieren Dickins – aka DELS – sure has a lot to say.  But, what he says certainly isn’t thoughtless or brash.  In fact it’s so far removed from such suppositional spittle that this LP becomes richly explorative as determined by the mouth of this cerebral MC.  Gob indeed.

Three producers (Micachu, Kwes and Joe Goddard of Hot Chip) assisted DELS in the album’s creation.  Their respective contributions converge seamlessly to produce an abstract canvas; a canvas on which Dickins lays out his erudite rhymes with aplomb.  We start with ‘Hydronenburg’ which is a clear statement of intent; a track centred on breaking free of the strictures of minimum wage jobs and middle-managers.

This is followed by the single and current song-on-repeat, ‘Trumpalump.’  It’s fairly obvious Joe Goddard had something to do with this one; the production has that familiar fuzzy, kaleidoscopic sound along with a reflective and melancholic chorus.  Oh, and it also carries the quintessentially British line: “It’s lunchtime I need food / A Bakewell will do”.

It’s hard to imagine a Mr Kipling reference coming from the East Coast (U.S. I mean, not DELS’ homestead, Ipswich) but such a quirk is firmly positive.

‘Shapeshift’ is a similarly massive tune and the lyrics have a childlike fantastical quality to them – he rhymes about his transformative abilities and about wanting to be something or someone (e.g. Bret “(The) Hit Man” Hart) else.  Meanwhile, the metaphysical ‘Moonshining’ and ‘Eating Clouds’ contain philosophical subtexts pertaining to questions about life and material possessions.

If I’m honest, Roots Manuva’s Trotters Independent Traders-hued intro on the Jitterbug-tastic ‘Capsize’ is a tad cringe worthy.  Fortunately it gets a whole lot better after that.  Roots Manuva’s input is politically scathing and it runs as an indictment of modern-day Conservative Britain: “How many fresh-faced youths will they send to war / without clear definition of what they’re fighting for”.

It’s not beyond suggestion that it feels like an updated version of The Specials or The Beat-fare.

The genetically-modified boom bap of ‘Violina’ follows before bells ring out on the beautiful ‘DLR’ with touching Neneh Cherry-esque vocals from Elan Tamara.  Set against this is the painfully brutal, and sonically-spatial, Burgess-inspired ‘Droogs’ which manages to avoid coming across as overly sensationalist despite its rape and child abuse subject material.  From darkness to light then on the eponymous ‘GOB’ where DELS’ mantra, “I won’t get swallowed by your darkness,” is repeated with militaristic resolution.

Lyrically the LP is unabashedly expansive and DELS is unhindered by the machismo often attached to this genre.  With unrestrictive and clever production to match, it’s a debut to savour.  DELS doesn’t need to big talk his own abilities – reviewers like me will sure enough do that with our own gobs.

Words: Ben Nicholas

‘GOB’ is out now on Big Dada.

Bullion

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Bullion’s ‘You Drive Me to Plastic’ is his most expansive and original work to date. Considering his back catalogue already boasts a host of stellar bass-led singles and EPs and the viral sensation ‘Pet Sounds: In The Key of Dee’ this is no mean feat. Defying any sort of label, this ‘non LP’ is more a twenty minute ode to inventive sampling than a rigidly structured project. Regardless, it works well. Our prodigiously talented producer doesn’t take himself too seriously, which engenders this record with a sense of energy and fun often absent amongst his peers.

Inherently playful, ‘You Drive Me to Plastic’ is peppered with musical bon mots. The inspired ‘Wrong Door In(tro)’ sees footsteps, rattling keys and opening doors punctuate snippets of Bullion back catalogue; serving as a whistle stop introduction to the producer – both musically and stylistically. In a work of such compressed complexity these familiar landmarks are a welcome insight into the precocious conductor’s consciousness. The spaced-out sentiment ‘‘to me if a record can be played now, play it now” on the excellent ‘Too Right’ could easily be seen as a manifesto of sorts, yet also helps (re)orientate the listener after a dizzying run of beautifully reformed samples. Bullion’s hyperactive energy has a chaotic, compelling effect yet remains, somewhat paradoxically, laidback. The record touches on an intimidating breadth of material. A particularly striking example: the gurgling horns on ‘Magic Was Ruler’, a distorted nod to funky jazz, that leads fantastically into the deep dub inspired swells of ‘Lol Express’.

It is this rapid processing that Bullion does best, swiftly distilling the charm and essence of his chosen tune before segueing into another bite-sized sample in order to create something brilliantly new. The rate at which Bullion devours his samples is alarming, yet with each new listen it becomes impossible not to appreciate his ear for a unique combination; an ear that hears the most unlikely of bedfellows unfolding into beautiful kaleidoscopic soundscapes. His ability to assimilate samples, as diverse as the recurring African percussion and neighing horses on ‘Spirit Mighty’ is awesome, but Bullion is not just a beat matcher. Particularly arresting is an uncanny ability to communicate, near fully, the ideas he wants with only the slightest nod to its genesis. An idea apparent on ‘Too Right’ sees Bullion use impossible to trace vocals that, despite their fleeting, distorted quality, clearly relay a sense of languid wellbeing.

Despite all the good (and there is a lot of good) there’s a feeling that Bullion’s got more to offer. ‘You Drive Me to Plastic’ is wonderfully demonstrative of his skills as a producer and beat selector, but at a mere 20 minutes it doesn’t quite say enough. Only the absorbing bass line and reverb-soaked vocals of ‘Pressure to Dance’ and the superbly spiky ‘Too Right’ could be described, albeit loosely, as standalone beats. Nonetheless, this is a richly promising statement of intent – sun drenched and lovely, Bullion’s ‘non LP’ makes gorgeous listening.

Words: Joseph Clarke-Knowles

‘You Drive Me to Plastic’ is out now on Young Turks.

YT049 – Bullion – Magic Was Ruler by Young Turks

Jamie Woon

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When listening to ‘Mirrorwriting’, it’s hard to fathom that this is only Jamie Woon’s debut. With its freshness comes a maturity only seen in artists who’ve flourished. Having said that, Woon’s collection of impacting tracks have taken him over three years to master. When you have an artist who can produce such vividly insightful songs about even the mundane (Woon claims at least four of the tracks on ‘Mirrorwriting’ are about going for a walk) you know you’ve landed on someone who’s reflective creativity has the potential to produce audible artistry.

After having prior success with his first 12″, ‘Wayfaring Stranger’, in 2007, Jamie Woon has blasted back into the urban music scene as a more ‘mainstream’ talent who is gaining rapid recognition for his music. ‘Mirrorwriting’ is a twelve track album encompassing a collection of harrowingly atmospheric melodies intertwined with Woon’s rich, lustrous vocals. His sound is certainly chart compatible, but there are elements within his songs that take him a step away from the norm, with unsuspecting chord progressions and an ability to create tension and feeling through melodic detailing. This hasn’t been achieved purely through generic production and instrumentals. His musical wizardry has led him to sourcing obscure means to create sounds, for example recording clicks and taps on wicker furniture in the Cornwall cottage he resided in for two months, and catching the sound of stones from a nearby stream to use as snare beats.

‘Mirrorwriting’ starts with ‘Night Air’, the first track to have been released off the record. It’s cruisy but at the same time there’s a static tension in the sequence. The infectiously airy repetitions are symptomatic of a heartbeat, which gets you hooked immediately. After time, funk elements seep into the mix which give it great diversity and shows pretty early on that Woon takes musical inspiration from a vast repertoire. Tracks like ‘Street’, ‘Lady Luck’ and ‘Middle’ resonate with artists such as Justin Timberlake and Robin Thicke, especially with the falsetto chorus in ‘Lady Luck’. They sit well in the current R&B scene. There’s definitely something that sets Woon aside however: an inventiveness and ability to fuse a multitude of unexpected layers, putting him alongside fellow innovators such as Jamie Lidell.

A number of tracks on the album hold a more reposed and hazy vibe, like ‘Spiral’, ‘Gravity’ and ‘Waterfront’. Within these there’s a great romance and depth – rich tapestries of intimate experiences and feelings enveloped in silken melodic brilliance. Woon did hundreds of takes on each track to achieve the exact sound he envisioned when writing his songs. The time he has taken to cultivate this record is reflected in the result – a collection of technically advanced yet undoubtably thoughtful tracks that will refresh the UK urban scene.

Words: Jen Jaconelli

‘Mirrorwriting’ is out now on Polydor.