Search:synth sense

As with their first various artist compilation EP, Let's Play House has chosen to grab tracks from a handful of artists both new and old to the label and party. Portuguese duo Johnwaynes released the I Can See EP on the imprint in July of 2012 and Belgium's Mugwump has been part of the company's NYC party stable since 2010. The newcomers here—montel and Last Waltz—are obvious shoe-ins for inclusion in the roster.

As with the last V/A, this one tells a cohesive aural story. montel kicks the thing off with a no-nonsense jackin' house boogie, underscored by a slightly-out-of-tune and elastic bass that infects your whole body. Johnwaynes darkens the mood a bit without loosing montel's sense of urgency. The track throbs forward with the assistance of another thick bass, scattered synth ditties, herky-jerky hats, and breathy overlaid effects, giving it a cavernous vibe.

Brussels-based troublemakers Mugwump start the flip with a tune that seamlessly fits into their cannon—it sounds so familiar that it's hard to believe it's only just come out. As always, the duo's foundation is a choppy, hook-laden bass that's wrapped in playful synth lines, water-submerged effects, and big drums suitable for the largest of rock stadiums. Then Last Waltz wraps the whole affair up with their own melodious house boogie. As with the A2, theirs is more somber and spooky, yet just as catchy and addictive as the brighter montel and Mugwump songs. Imagine this EP as a miniature rendering of one of LPH's warehouse parties: it's big, bold, and lots of fun, while still having an obvious sense of a buildup, peak, and comedown.

After two in as many years, low-key German producer Yør returns to similarly low key Dutch imprint Purple Maze for his third full outing on the label in the form of the 'Sublimation EP'. Across the four tracks Yør continues to explore the same frayed and decayed, abstract electronics as he has in the past, with distant kins like Kassem Mosse and Morphosis still resonating.
The opener and title track is an intense and moody, nerve jangling affair where huge searching synths pan in the background of grinding drums and dense percussive clatter before 'Gravity', with its heavyweight and churning drums, trudges on through sonic scuzz and lo-fi blizzards as a backlit melody keeps things from growing all too dark and abstract.

The many different contrasting surfaces and counterpointed moods make Yør's sounds as arresting as they are. The dystopian, tortured industrial funk of 'Parallels' with its slapping claps and decaying percussive lines are proof of that, where through chaos comes beautiful order.
Closer 'Trust' holds its head a little higher, more spiralling synths and bleepy fax machines tones add a sense that the apocalypse is coming and machines will take over, but there's enough organic beauty in the deeply hidden melodies to keep the track from being all too hostile.

Up and away / To your journey to the sun / Drink your rocket juice / Fly away (Hey, Shooter).
High up in the skies, amongst the clouds, Rocket Juice & The Moon was born. Literally. It happened back in 2008, when Damon Albarn, Flea and Tony Allen convened on the same Lagos flight, to play and exchange musical ideas in that city as part of the Africa Express collective. Relishing a shared enthusiasm for one another's work, and bonding immediately, there and then the triumvirate laid down the blueprint for Rocket Juice.
Still, more than a year passed before conditions were set for three weeks together at Albarn's West London studio, recording and refining two-dozen startlingly out and deeply funky instrumental grooves. The next stage was to invite onboard some extremely talented friends, with further sessions in Dallas, New York, Chicago and Paris... Erykah Badu, no less, queen of contemporary soul. Three companions from Africa Express: Malian singer Fatoumata Diawara, whose debut album has topped World Music charts since its release last Autumn; her multi-talented compatriot Cheick Tidiane Seck, whose prodigious keyboardism has lit up releases by artists ranging from Youssou N'Dour to Hank Jones; the young, Ghanaian rapper M.anifest, quizzically existential, switching seamlessly between Twi and English. And the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble, long-time stalwarts in the Honest Jon's set-up — since one of the team discovered them busking near the shop in Portobello Road, on his lunchbreak — with a second album for the label due in May... Finally, the tracks were dispatched for mixing to Berlin, to be meticulously honed, polished and envenomed by Mark Ernestus, one half of the legendary Basic Channel and Rhythm & Sound partnerships.
The result is Rocket Juice & The Moon — out March 26, 2012, on Honest Jon's Records — a triumphant exploration and proliferation of kinetic Afro-funk rhythms: organic, exuberant, communal music-making, evidenced by the project's live debut on stage as part of the Honest Jon's Chop Up in late 2011, which hit London, Marseille, Dublin, and Cork to such great acclaim (witness the flurry of smart-phone film-clips uploaded in the days thereafter).
From the inaugural bars — that absurdly funky slice of instructional timekeeping, 1-2-3-4-5-6 — the liquid pulse of Fela Kuti's classic recordings drives the action through a suite of 18 shape-shifting compositions. The greatest drummer in the world has never sounded so good as he does here. His intricate cross-patterns jostle and lock with Flea's nimble, rumbling bass riffs. Joined by Seck on There and Extinguished — 'when you dispose of something burning, be sure it's out' — Albarn's keyboards spray synth fusillades up top, over, and under... splicing into the mess of wires running between the freaked Afro-disco of William Onyeabor and the space-jazz-moog of Sun Ra. The HBE brings extra intensity and drama to Leave-Taking — likewise Flea's trumpet to Rotary Connection — teasing out the haunting melody coiled in the mix.
Where the best of vintage Afrobeat sides sustained their concentrated energies over the course of sprawling, marathon jams, RJ & TM manages something altogether different: the group bottles the idiom into capsules of funk... and real songs. Beautifully buoyed by Erykah Badu's unmistakable vocals, Hey, Shooter brilliantly traverses metaphysical spaceways sans any semblance of noodling. Lolo and Follow-Fashion — featuring the open-hearted sensuality of Diawara's singing, M.anifest's quick, brawny science, and more brass blasts — play like its musical cousins or codas. Indeed, the album's shrewd sequencing creates the composite effect of tracks working both individually or within the context of an extended song-cycle.
The lovely ballad, Poison, is bittersweet and ruminative: 'If you're looking for love, beware the signs / They will paralyze you one by one / Poison, it will only break your heart.' Down-tempo and dubby, Check Out and Worries amplify the range of styles and moods. And by the time of Fatherless — a chugging Afro blues that evokes John Lee Hooker lost in Lagos, one gets the sneaking suspicion there's very little outside the reach of this collective's inventive musical grasp.
There is, in fact, a palpable openness pervading Rocket Juice & The Moon — the sense of a limber willingness to follow creative impulse — right down to how the group acquired its name. When Ogunajo Ademola — the Lagotian commissioned to do the album's cover artwork — dubbed his submission 'Rocket Juice & The Moon', it quickly morphed into the formal name of the project, like trying to hold onto mercury.
Surely, the stars above also approved.

Hui Terra. The dreamlike shape of the half-heard word, abstracts with faint impressions of bucolic landscape, or handfuls of translucent and brightly-colored gemstones that hold odd, elusive, asymmetrical form. This enchanting, gently surreal debut album from Alex Cobb's Etelin project explores the power and playfulness of impulsive action diffused through electro-acoustic and ambient sound.

This music was created with digital synthesizers and a sampler in the four months immediately following the birth of his first child, a hazy period marked by a lack of regular sleep and a diet of INA-GRM, Nuno Canavarro's "Plux Quba", and Microstoria's "Init Ding" - records that appeared to produce both stimulating and soothing effects on a newborn's nascent consciousness. Recorded and arranged at all hours, this is an album that reflects on moments of tumult and fragility. Cobb sews small sharpnesses and surprises into its movements to uncover different aspects of each sound source, doubling as hypnic starts cast to advance and variate the narrative in subtle and unexpected ways. Sound and atmosphere manifest in eccentric, alchemical fashion, as though forming in processes of sublimation - solids dissipating into vapor - and deposition - clouds resolving and dropping to the ground in piles - to an obscure and domestic rhythm. There's the purveying sense of moving within the boundaries of small, hermetic ecosystem. This is underscored and doused by a slow, blooming sense of warmth; growing joy without bombast. Even the more startling textures conceal this same truth and emphasis, such as the alien, sour salt-butter electronic babble in "Little Rig", largely sampled from Cobb's son's voice at just a week old. It is emotional music - devoted, affectionate, and playful.