One of Naken Lunch’s favourite Instra:mental tunes is ‘Vicodin’ (originally released with ‘Let’s Talk’), and now it gets a makeover by techno producers Skudge. Check this track; even the waveform looks fuckin’ dark! Skudge warp it into something between dubstep and house but with all the downer-rhythm that really makes this track. Along with the remix there’s more from Boddika in ‘Grand Prix’. Short and sweet little hypnotic bounce track with serious dancability. Definitely a double header for those who like their dubstep on a tech-house tip!
Often described as un-categorizable, Taal Mala’s music is inspired by new ideas and classic standards,and takes influence from a diverse selection of both new and classic sounds. Genre-defying acts of synth genius and production lustre form a solid foundation for Taal Mala’s destruction of any soundboy who comes to test it. Dubstep, Grime, Jungle, Acid, Hardcore and Reggae are all partially responsible for the fusion that is created. As a member of the Lighta! and SUB-OSC soundsystems, Taal Mala has buried an excess of tin pan soundboys alongside The Bug, Kode9, Loefah, Venetian Snares, Rusko, Benga, Mala, Skream, Hatcha, Youngsta, Martyn, 2562…etc. Taal Mala’s first vinyl 12″, ‘Criminal Youths/Mud Up’ was released on Badman Press Recordings Oct 7th 2010. Other releases include the ‘Dreader Than Dread EP’ also on BadmanPress Recordings, ‘Stakker Humanoid – [Sub-Osc Remix]‘ on Jumpin’ & Pumpin’, Ill Gates & Meesha – Sweatshop [taal mala remix] on Muti Music. Also, forthcoming on Aufect Recordings, is ‘Lenses/Mirrors’.
“The beat I got from big Buckwild is whoa!” (Black Rob)
It’s a dream come true. Imagine one of your favorite producers gathering on a double disc close to forty tracks you previously didn’t have easy access to. For those not able to put a track to the name, here’s a summary of Buckwild’s biggest beats: O.C.’s “Time’s Up,” the Artifacts’ “C’mon Wit Da Git Down,” Organized Konfusion’s “Stress,” AZ’s “Ho Happy Jackie,” Big L’s “Put it On,” Kool G Rap & Nas’ “Fast Life,” The Notorious B.I.G.’s “I Got a Story to Tell,” Jay-Z’s “Lucky Me,” Black Rob’s “Whoa!,” Beanie Sigel’s “What a Thug About,” Nas’ “These Are Our Heroes,” The Game’s “Like Father, Like Son,” and 50 Cent’s “I Don’t Need ‘Em.” Personal favorites include Mic Geronimo’s “Masta I.C.,” Organized Konfusion’s “Why,” Brand Nubian’s “Alladat,” Big L’s “Da Graveyard,” Kool G Rap’s “Blowin’ up in the World,” A+’s “Me & My Microphone,” A.G.’s “All Eye Seeing,” O.C.’s “Half Good, Half Sinner,” AZ’s “I’m Back,” and several tunes that are included on this epic collection.
Sometimes when I hear the name Buck in relation to hip-hop production, it happens that I’m reminded of that MC Ren rhyme from N.W.A’s “Alwayz Into Somethin’”… “I heard a dope beat, somebody told me that Buck did it / but if Dre didn’t do it, I can’t fuck with it.” Completely unrelated to one Buckwild of course, because back in 1991 there was no trace of a producer named Buck, let alone Buckwild. In our “Word…Life” review we determined that album to be the official debut of Anthony Best as a beatmaker. “Diggin’ In The Crates - Rare Studio Masters” reveals that an even earlier production credit exists - “You Can’t Front (…It Is Real),” the b-side of Diamond’s “What U Heard” single from 1993. D is credited as co-producer, but the way guest Sadat X acknowledges, “Yo Buck, this shit is hot,” it’s fair to assume that ‘Buck did it.’ The following year, on the occasion of “Time’s Up,” The Source crowned him ‘hip-hop’s next star producer.’
Seven years later, the same magazine’s ‘5th Annual Power 30 Issue,’ bringing back to mind Y2K, selected 8 ‘Chairmen of the Board’ ‘that racked up the most production credits in 2000’ (Dr. Dre, The Neptunes, The Alchemist, Mannie Fresh, Rockwilder, Timbaland, Swizz Beatz, DJ Premier). Despite scoring one of the year’s defining singles with “Whoa!,” Buckwild didn’t make the cut and was (alongside Nottz, Ayatollah, and Hi-Tek) relegated to ‘Up and Coming Producer’ status… To state that Buckwild has never been a true ‘star producer’ doesn’t diminish his accomplishments. Rather, looking back on this career and contemplating his work makes you realize that the fact that he never was a star producer might be the very reason he still is in the game. In fact, it might be harder to meet the demands of an ever-changing hip-hop landscape than becoming the beatsmith of the moment and striking while the iron is hot by following up that one hit with a dozen similar tracks.
In 1995 Buck already demonstrated he was in it for the long haul when in an Ego Trip interview he told Chairman Mao: “Right now in hip-hop everybody wanna get in it, because they’ll look on TV and see somebody that looks like they livin’ and they be like, ‘Yo, I wanna do that,’ because they think they can make a lot of money. It’s cool, you can make money for what you do, but if you really got your heart in it, then that’s when it’s all cool. Other people be like, ‘I wanna get in it’ to make sure they pockets is fat. Or they be like, ‘Yo, you in this game and you doin’ whatever you doin’. You’re not large, or as large as me. I got crazy loot, what you got to show for it?’ You can still have longevity. Even if you don’t make crazy money, you might have longevity. And they don’t understand that.”
A Bronx native, Buckwild paid his dues as a mixtape DJ in the early ’90s before hooking up with Lord Finesse (who besides having a rap career also put together mixtapes), who introduced him to fellow Diggin’ In The Crates producers Diamond D and Showbiz. While not a member from jump, Buckwild, at least in his earlier years, was a true blue Diggin’ In The Crates representative, calling his production company Still Diggin’ Productions. The D.I.T.C. tutelage soon yielded results, as by 1995 Ego Trip magazine called him ‘perhaps the most prolific remix-producer in hip hop today.’
Many of these remixes are now collected on CD for the first time, a real treat for anybody who doesn’t have the means to dig in the (vinyl) crates for mid-’90s East Coast rap. All material has been sourced from DATs, ensuring studio quality. Spanning a five year period, “Rare Studio Masters” reveals several trends in the producer’s resumé. For the greater part of his career, Buckwild has remained synonymous with dark-toned, sample-heavy, mid-tempo rap from the Rotten Apple. The MC’s he did beats for outside of his hometown were usually on the same artistic page. As early as ‘94 he did beats for New Jersey’s Artifacts and Boston’s Scientifik and remixed L.A.’s Funkdoobiest and Tha Alkaholiks before hitting up Virginia to work with Mad Skillz and Ill Biskits (whose shelved Atlantic album “Chronicle of Two Losers” is about to be finally released). Another notable characteristic is that Buckwild and his rappers often extended their relationships, collaborating for more than one album. Mic Geronimo, AZ, Organized Konfusion, Brand Nubian, Capone-N-Noreaga, Kool G Rap, Fat Joe, Black Rob, and Beanie Sigel all came back for seconds.
Major production gigs notwithstanding, Buck kept his ears to the streets, trying to capture its rhythms by tapping them into his SP’s, Akais and MPC’s. In ‘96 he presented Bronx crew Reservoir Dogs on his own short-lived Still Diggin’ Music label, the single’s subtly schemin’ “Back to Berth” and the subdued, epic “The Difference” both being included here. Crimewave is another crew that was blessed with his beats. Even at the time of writing, he hopes to debut Kurrup Money Inc., a Bronx collective. That Buck’s roots in the rap underworld run deep is evidenced by this collection that contains various singles cuts that are not remixes for big names.
There’s Brooklyn’s Jemini (before he teamed up with DangerMouse), whose “Scars and Pain” (off the same-titled EP) takes you back to a time when Lauryn Hill was “that little cutie from the Fugees,” Buck’s slightly off-kilter instrumentation creating a paranoid atmosphere that accentuates the Gifted One’s wish to “get it off my chest to alleviate the stress.” Then on “Story of My Life” a more relaxed Jemini shows himself inclined to sing over the melancholic piano loop. Further rarities include tracks by Ak Skills, the Bushwackas, Street Smartz, FATAL Fountain, Little Indian, and Lace Da Booms. Even the less survival-stressed Mike Zoot makes an appearance with “Live & Stink,” whose playful beat matches the tongue-in-cheek raps. And then there’s an oversexed Kool Keith “rockin’ astro jazz” and breakin’ out solo on the ‘95 version of “Yo Black,” originally the title of an Ultramagnetic song from “The Four Horsemen.”
A particular role Buck played in the Brand Nubian reunion, as three tracks that led up to “Foundation” are produced by him, and they’re all to be found on “Rare Studio Masters.” 1995’s “I Like It (Remix)” adds Sadat X to the Grand Puba song. After guesting on the “2000” LP, X reinforces that he’s got nothing but love for the ex-Nubian, thanking Puba for involving him in “One for All,” before auctioning off the “reunion album to the highest bidder / 300,000? Go ‘head, you’se a kidder / cause the boys right here is holdin’ out for half a brick.” 1996 marked the first time the trio rhymed together since the early ’90s. Again it was on a remix produced by Buck, the Nubian Mix of Sadat’s “The Lump Lump” single. Finally, the Fearless 4-inspired “Rockin’ It” from 1997 was a full-fledged Brand Nu comeback track that was apparently recorded one year before “Foundation.”
A fixture in Buck’s discography is obviously O.C., and by extension Organized. He did tracks on the duo’s mid-’90s albums, but their most famed collaboration has to be the remix that opens disc 2. Known as The Lost Remix, this was a completely re-done version of “Bring it On.” A studio mob credited as The Ill Rahlos brings the ruckus on the rowdy hook as Monch takes his chirurgical flow disassembly to the extreme while Buck’s darkly glimmering beat pounds away. If rap ever deserved the attribute ‘underground,’ it’s here. Not to mention, the Beastie Boys never sounded as New York underground as on the brilliant “Get it Together (Remix),” coming across so natural you’d think that was the original beat they rocked over.
Four of his D.I.T.C. remixes represent Buckwild’s smoother side. “You Know Now (Remix)” freshens up the rather dull Show & A.G. original with a somberly swinging sample and kicking drums. “Hip 2 Da Game (Remix)” renders an already airy Lord Finesse track even more weightless. An unreleased remix of Big L’s “MVP” (Remix #1) uses the same sample as the aforementioned Show & A.G. mix but features a slightly more danceable rhythm section. “MVP (Remix #2),” unreleased as well, is all jazzy slices atop fat drums. With the combination of rhythmically dropped vocal snippets, an all-embracing, warm bass, strong drums, and Big L’s punchline raps, these remixes, like many tracks here, symbolize an apex of New York hip-hop.
One thing about early Buckwild is that his tracks may feature traces of club- or radio-friendliness, or the intended irritation pioneered by Marley Marl and the Bomb Squad, but his personal artistic vision remains intact. The prototype of a digger, Buckwild estimates his sample sources. It is his intent to give a hip-hop form to already beautiful soundscapes as they have been shaped by past musicians. This involves often more than just a simple, recognizable loop and requires meticulous arrangement of patterns, sequences and rhythms. Intriguingly, the finished beats, while dense, always give the rappers room to breathe, and they can be incredibly gentle despite their often uncompromising mechanics. Like O.C. as a rapper, the more emotion Buckwild put into it, the harder he rocked. Whether it was the rappers’ inclination to rhyme over beats with a certain kind of gravity, or whether those beats reflect the producer’s musical mood is hard to tell, but it usually resulted in impeccably timed, slowed jeep beats that send you to headnod heaven. Absorbing these veiled, hypnotic compositions, you think Buck simply has a dark streak, but some of these beats are really deep and attain an almost spiritual level.
Arguably, such a comprehensive collection focusing on obscure material is likely to include some mediocre works. Every producer who relies too much on samples risks that someone else loops the same bars. Which was the case with Barry White’s “You’re the One I Need,” which at that time was not only used in the Mystidious Misfitss’ “I Be (Buckwild Remix),” but also in Eddie F’s all-star posse cut “Let’s Get it On” and Suga’s “What’s Up Star.” Even during the run documented here, not all remixes compare favorably to the original. Dope originals like “Daamn!” (Tha Alkaholiks), “I Like It” (Grand Puba), “Lyrics” (Special Ed), and “Rock On” (Funkdoobiest) are hard to top, although Buck’s remix of the latter does manage to emmit a relaxed West Coast vibe that contrasts well with the album version. Ironically, the most failed attempt might be the remix of his own “The Lump Lump,” which, although similar, lacks the irresistable drive of the original (lyrically, though, the Nubians are in top form). He also misses the opportunity to make a real banger out of Clark Kent’s “Guess Who’s Back” for Rakim. Other remixes, however, are on par with the original (the two for Channel Live’s “Mad Izm”), while others still are simply appreciated for underpinning familiar lyrics with fresh musical ideas (the two for Nas & AZ’s “Life’s a Bitch”).
In terms of diggin’ in the crates as a way to collect music, “Rare Studio Masters” admittedly makes it too easy on those who refuse to invest the necessary time and money to track down the available material. But as a producer retrospective - the first of its kind -, it’s certainly due, especially considering the inclusion of several never officially released tracks. Only taking into account the release’s artistic intentions, this collection means that after ten and more years, Buckwild is still happy with the outcome. It furthermore documents the art of the remix in a time when rap remixes often just add star power in the form of guest rappers. Buck graduated from a different school of remixing. The one for Brand Nubian’s “Word Is Bond” highlights what a remix can do to a song. It drains it of much of its energy, but at the same time renders the vocals more contemplative. Similarly, the “C’mon Wit Da Git Down” remix calms things down (despite adding Busta Rhymes to the line-up), the slowly progressing, subtly melodic, bass-heavy background setting the pace as xylophone sprinkles and scratches inject flava. Other times, the remix offers an opportunity to make a brand new song (Channel Live’s “Mad Izm (‘95 Remix),” Black Sheep’s “North South East West (Remix)”).
“Diggin’ In The Crates - Rare Studio Masters: 1993-1997” is a nostalgic look back. Buckwild has stopped making beats like these. His 2003-2007 period will hardly produce a similarly impressive track record. No question, in terms of sales and plaques, ever since “I Got a Story to Tell” the game’s been good to Buck. He’s been on multi-platinum albums. “Whoa!” probably pushed “Life Story” to platinum status. But most of his beats that mark his ascension into the upper echelon of producers haven’t really held much hit potential nor provided the artists with the hip-hop credibility Buckwild once stood for. It’s doubtful that he will be remembered for anything he put down for Memphis Bleek, D-Block, Mase, Shyne, Loon, Remy Ma, Benzino, Angie Martinez, Faith Evans, 702, or Babyface. That’s why this retrospective, ending just as the jiggy era got into full gear, helps preserve the legacy of this skilled producer.
A Albarsha AA Welcome To Tibet
Kendrick Lamar is a weird kid, and rap music could always use more weird kids. The 24-year-old is a Compton native with a budding and mysterious Dr. Dre connection, but there’s little-to-no link to his hometown’s gangsta-funk legacy in his music. Instead, Lamar is very much a product of the late blog-rap era— an introverted loner type who’s willing to talk tough but is more interested in taking a Mag-Lite to his own personal failings and what he sees as the flaws of his generation. His rap style is fluid and melodic but approachable, and his frantic tumble of syllables evokes the feeling when you’re high enough that your thoughts arrive fast and interrupt each other. If one of the Bone Thugs guys had a dorky, overly sincere younger cousin who was really into Afrobeat and Terrence Malick movies, it’d be Kendrick.
Lamar does exist within a strong West Coast continuum, but it has nothing to do with Dre. Instead, he’s very much within the tradition of 90s groups like Souls of Mischief or the Pharcyde— self-deprecating and insanely talented kids who routinely ripped dizzy, slip-sliding flows over mellow jazz breaks. Section.80, Lamar’s new album, arrives on a wave of blog-based buzz, but beyond a couple of ill-advised choruses, it doesn’t make much attempt to present Lamar to major-label A&Rs or to a wider audience. Instead, it gives him a chance to chase his muse wherever it runs. The production, mostly from relative unknowns like THC and Sounwave, is almost uniformly excellent— a spaced-out blur of astral horns and blissed-out Fender Rhodes, with drums that only knock when they need to. A couple of guys from Lamar’s Black Hippy crew— those guys really sound like Souls of Mischief when they get together— show up, but the album isn’t a guest-heavy affair. It’s a young thinker attempting to describe the world as he sees it.
“You know why we crack babies cuz we born in the 80s,” Lamar raps on the excellently emo relationship-song “A.D.H.D.”, and that’s a theme that comes up over and over. Everywhere he looks, Lamar sees generational symptoms of the kids who came from the era of crack and Ronald Reagan. When he looks around, Lamar sees self-hate, nihilism, institutionalized oppression. When he talks to girls, he sometimes recalls the supportively sincere Goodie Mob of “Beautiful Skin”, actually counseling against cosmetics on “No Make-Up (Her Vice)”: “Don’t you know your imperfections is a wonderful blessing?/ From heaven is where you got it from.” (Somehow, the redundant double-“from” makes the sentiment all the more adorable.) And he also recognizes self-destructive tendencies in himself: “I used to wanna see the penitentiary way after elementary/ Thought it was cool to look the judge in the face when he sentenced me.” But it’s not like he’s some preacher/prophet figure; he says “suck my dick” often enough that it gets boring.
Given that Lamar is a talented and earnest young man with a lot to say and no big label nudging his music toward accessibility, it’s only natural that he’d lose his way every once in a while. Section.80 is an hour long, and it could drop probably a quarter of its running time without anyone missing anything. And certain moments just make me wince so hard, like this one, from “Hol’ Up”: “I wrote this record while 30,000 feet in the air/ Stewardess complimenting me on my nappy hair/ If I could fuck her in front of all these passengers/ They’d probably think I’m a terrorist.” Those few lines add up to a repellent cauldron of horniness, persecution-complex fantasies, exhibitionism, and plain old youthful Bad Idea Jeans indulgence. Dre hasn’t yet taught Lamar how to hone all his best ideas into a few absolutely killer pieces of music; maybe he still will. But self-serious flaws and all, Section.80 still stands as a powerful document of a tremendously promising young guy figuring out his voice. Its best moments (“Rigamortis”, “HiiiPower”, “Kush & Corinthians”, “A.D.H.D.”) are simply dope as fuck, no qualifiers necessary.
*Limited whitelabel of re-works from Jacques Greene fresh off his Radiohead remixing duties…* Canada’s most in-demand beat maker drop three coveted R&B edits on blink ‘n miss white label. The sampled material is fairly big-time, and the reworks are suitably juicy. A-side is a booty shufflin’, acid-tweaked and so, so sweet rework of ‘What U R’, while on the B-side he drops a clipped and drippin’ 2-step flex, next to the iced and slinky makeover of ‘Motivation’.
Label: Kraken Recordings Catalog#: KRKN 001 Format: Vinyl, 12”, 45 RPM
Country: Denmark Released: 16 Apr 2007 Genre: Electronic Style: Dubstep
Label: Punch Drunk Catalog#: drunk11 Format: Vinyl, 12”, 45 RPM
Country:UK Released: 23 Feb 2009 Genre: Electronic Style: Dubstep
Label: Dubstar Souljah Catalog#: DS001 Format: Vinyl, 12”
Country: UK Released: Jul 2009 Genre: Electronic Style: Dubstep
Roots and Future clash on a heavy dubstep plate outta South London. At Ariwa studios Cessman and Joe Ariwa laid down four tracks of crushing bass weight headed up with the standardly effective ‘Skanker’, plus a dubbed out ‘Emperor Selassie I’, and the more soulful vocal lead ‘Wicked Man’ featuring Queen Omega and the morphing delays and FX treatments of ‘Razor Sharp Dub’. For fans of Kromestar, Cotti, old DMZ.
After a series of 12 inches on revered dubstep labels like Hotflush, Tectonic and Boka, producer DJ Distance (here credited as simply Distance) joins the heavyweight Planet Mu roster for his debut LP.
Those new to the dubstep genre, which at times suffers for its homogeny, will find all of dubstep’s hallmarks in full effect - shedloads of subwoofer-pummelling bass, face-slapping snares and an air of dark menace which brilliantly evokes the inner-city gloom from which the sound first emerged.
Title track My Demons is perhaps the album’s strongest moment, layering reverbed arpeggiated guitar with bottomed-out bass and echoed snares that hark back to traditional dub more directly than many of Distance’s contemporaries. Elsewhere, though, this is an album that looks to the future more than to the past, continuing the quest for the holy grail of bass sounds (and almost finding it on Cyclops) and dropping in touches of skin-crawling spookiness with samples from 1998’s Dark City (Tuning). Like fellow dubstepper Burial’s eponymous debut, the pace is often head-noddingly ponderous, but where that felt organic and rhythmically loose, My Demons has a more synthetic, rigid feel to it.
It may not be a match for the visceral thrills of Vex’d or the club-primed melodies of Skream, or stage the kind of critical breakthrough achieved by Burial, but My Demons is an essential purchase for fans of the genre nonetheless.
The three most important names in Jamaican music of the 1970s are Bob Marley, Lee Perry and Osbourne Ruddock, otherwise known as King Tubby. Whereas Marley’s story and his music have been chronicled ad infinitum for three decades now, and whereas Perry’s music and his legacy has, in the past ten years, finally been given their proper respect, Tubby’s contribution to the development of reggae and dub (not to mention hip-hop, punk, and all shades of electronic music) still remains largely underappreciated. Sure, a number of Tubby reissues have surfaced in the past few years (like the wonderful Dub Gone Crazy and The Sound of Channel One), but those discs tended to focus on one specific aspect of Tubby’s career, rather than offering the uninitiated a complete overview of the artist’s musical genius. Where’s his boxed set? Where’s his Songs of Freedom or Arkology? Well, Trojan’s two-disk collection In Fine Style might not be as comprehensive as Marley’s and Perry’s respective collections, but it does compile just about every key track from this master of Jamaican music. As such, it’s probably the most essential Tubby document you’re likely to find.
Tubby was not a producer or a performer. He was an engineer. His skills on a mixing board were unsurpassed, as just about everyone involved in reggae music at the time attests. But his true talent was in recognizing that recorded sound was a musical tool in its own right, to be shaped and redefined and reimagined in any of a billion ways. His greatest music reflects the transformative power that he found in the manipulation of sound. In his hands, a beat was compacted into a single click or stretched out into a slow rumble, horns were shifted from high-pitched squeals to low, stuttering waves, and the sound of a person singing “hello” was rearranged into “loelh.” Of course, all of this sonic manipulation is eminently familiar to anyone who has listened to popular music (dub, electronic, or otherwise) over the past fifteen years. There are computer programs now that allow you to take a one-second sound file and transform it into a three-hour symphony. But when Tubby was creating works like “Dub Organizer,” “King Tubby’s Meets Rockers Uptown,” “The Power of Love,” and the other 43 songs on In Fine Style, all he had was a 4-track mixing desk and a few accoutrements. What he did with this rudimentary equipment is nothing short of miraculous.
He was not the sole originator to the dub style, but he was definitely the style’s king. His ability to transform a track was without peer—even Lee Perry attests to that. But Tubby was not just an eccentric interested in creating lots of weird dub effects. He was a businessman; he ran the most successful sound system in Kingston, and he created his dubs as much for cash as for art. Hence, each of the songs on In Fine Style, suffused as they are with those weird dub effects, are nevertheless eminently danceable and listenable. They are catchy, fun, groovy dance numbers that just so happen to also be entirely original and unusual. There was a reason why dub music (especially Tubby’s) became so popular in the 70s: the music was good, often better than the originals.
Case in point is “King Tubby’s Meets Rockers Uptown,” which was a dub of Jacob Miller’s “Baby I Love You So.” In the UK, Tubby’s dub was listed as side A, and Miller’s original was side B. Listen to both versions, and it’s easy to see why. Miller’s version is an engaging, heartfelt love song (Miller’s was one of the more interesting voices of the day), and Augustus Pablo’s melodica playing is outstanding. But Tubby took this solid, well-performed work and turned it into something entirely different. First, he removed the vocals, save an occasional “Aaaaah” or “Baby I” that is stretched out so that the grief in Miller’s cry becomes a sad, eloquent echo. Then he took Pablo’s melodica, the beats, the scratching guitar, and the other instruments and added delay effects to each one, echoing Miller’s stretched out cries. There is a tension, a feverish intensity in this dub that is hinted at but not fully explored in the original.
Tubby wasn’t just an engineer or a guy who got a kick out of fucking up perfectly good songs by removing vocals and throwing in a bunch of delay effects and filters. He was a musician; it just so happened that his instrument was a mixing desk. That his music has lost absolutely none of its power despite the intervening years (and the intervening dub culture that was created in his wake) is a testament to this talent. If you are unfamiliar with Tubby’s work, In Fine Style is a perfect place to start. If you own all the other Tubby reissues that have come out in the past years, then pick this up anyways. Not only does it include a host of unreleased or hard to find tracks, but it’s all been digitally remastered, so it sounds as good as it ever has. Really, Tubby is one of the greats of 20th century music; it’s about time he’s starting to get his due.
The much-quoted epithet “writing about music is like dancing about architecture”, which may or may not have been first uttered by the late, great Frank Zappa, is never more applicable than when a scribe is presented with a dance record. The sole intention of Grum, aka Leeds-based Scot Graeme Shepherd, is to fill a club with revelry, not to flick the switches of the critical consignetti. His music is a gateway to release for the everyman, not the preserve of the muso.
Which is not to say this is a bad record – it’s far from that. This is a great record in the right circumstances – a great record with giant disco balls hanging from its extremities, stupidly dangerous heels on its feet and a row of neon shots lined up before it. A shiny set that exudes a carefree spirit and nails its colours to the mast of mass sing-alongs after just two tracks: the Hall & Oates-meets-M83 magic of Through the Night and Can’t Shake This Feeling, which fuses classic New York house with a beachside rave on a Spanish island. Both are deceptively detailed of design but absolutely instant of hit; both are mindless fun on an escapist level, and meticulous of arrangement should one take the time to really listen to what’s going on.
As Heartbeats shifts its shape to accommodate forms including Italo-disco, Justice-like bangers and future funk, it never loses sight of its central purpose: to enliven anyone’s night, be that before the taxi arrives or when the evening reaches its arms-aloft peak. It’s no surprise at all to learn that Shepherd’s favourite albums include Daft Punk’s Discovery, as Heartbeats shares that record’s glossy aesthetic – not so layered that it only reflects its influences, but able to present them anew with a hefty dollop of individuality.
Call it dumb if you must – it sure isn’t going to turn the tastes of more rockist types – but unlike much music that focuses purely on the dancefloor there are hidden depths to Heartbeats. It charms with such ease that it’s hard to accept it’s a debut, and that its maker is only in his early 20s. Every track hits a sticky sweet spot, and when one reads elsewhere on the ‘net that an album’s title-track is the “greatest song of the 21st century”, well, it’s worth investigating. Just be sure that the context is right before cracking this open.
