Full sunk and rubbed-out dub techno from Low Company’s Scandinavian secret weapon, back in circulation after sold-out first editions
Troddin’ his own path between dub techno, noise and lo-fi electronics, Civilistjävel!’s 2nd transmission steers the enigmatic appeal of his 2018 debut down three corridors to a murky headspace that sounds to our ears like Ø meeting 1991 and Thought Broadcast on the darkside of a severe comedown.
They spend the A-side slugging slumped kicks and viscous bass thru a hazy ferric mist humming with low lumen drones in a proper sleepwalkers style of techno dub that can barely be arsed to get off the couch and keeps mumbling for another Rizla in charming style. Their B-side however is a shade more elegant, coaxing shimmering synth overtones over an offset heartbeat in a way recalling strains of Mika Vainio’s early Ø classics in its puckered minimalism, before shifting onto the other foot for a piece of slowly abrasive and gunky industrial run-off redolent of Nate Young’s ‘Regression’ sessions.
A Colourful Storm presents a mini-album by Kallista Kult, the newest and most shadowy members to join the label's eclectic roster.
"Rumoured to be comprised of a core group of modern Oz improv and DIY luminaries with ties to Brandenburg and Black Rock, the sprawling, deeply evocative tracks draw comparisons with the Ghost Box axis, that Michael O'Shea record, Inga Copeland and, dare we say, those rare-as-hen's-teeth Threshold Houseboys Choir CDR's."
RAP find hazy, mystic ground somewhere between John T. Gast-like steppers and Alexander Tucker’s psychedelic folk-pop in their hugely enigmatic 2nd LP, out via the excellent Jolly Discs.
Enacting a musical ideal of being simultaneously within yet outside of the music, ‘Export’ sees RAP’s Guy Gormley (Enchante, Never) and Thomas Bush hover above musical timelines like puppeteers pulling the strings with an elegantly detached sense of control. In a smart way it’s a sound symptomatic of its times, economically efficient with its rhythms and melodies, and in the way they parse the most effective parts from techno, pop, and dub of the past generation while still sounding like the music was made circa 2019.
On side A the tracks flow in unbroken sequence at the same tempo from the dub technoid ‘Baptism’ thru pastoral AFXian techno in ‘Ruin’ to the enlightened steppers meditation of ‘Young Persuasion’ making sparing but crucial use of Gormley’s plaintive vocal. The other side is then beautifully counterbalanced with the timeless, loner piano meditation ’Twisted Fix, before avian cacophony gives way to a sort of pulsing techno chamber music in ‘Mad Friday’, and a perfect transition into their deft pounder ‘No Mixer’ and an anthem in waiting with the marriage of fey, ear-worming vox and filtered thizz in ’NSEW Ravers.’
John.T.Gast steps back in the arena with strong nods to the ‘90s rave past hidden behind the gentrified gleam of London’s Kings Cross
Once home to a thriving warehouse and club scene (and Red Light district), Kings Cross is now a shiny “up-and-coming” area, but we reckon it’s the former ‘Kings X’ that John T. Gast is meditating on with these two cuts for his 5 Gate Temple label.
Patently inspired by the rolling steppers pressure of sound systems styles such as Aba Shanti-I and possibly the area’s psychic topography of accreted rave reveries, the original stretches out a effortlessly deep sort of soca-techno-dub steppers style gilded with glittering synths and plangent jazz sax in a way that sounds like drifting from a warehouse into mazy streets at night, half-cut and disoriented. The B-side’s extended mix doubles down on that effect with tuffer percussion and a gnawing acidic edge that JTG masterfully dubs out in oscillating waves of lush promise and paranoid dread attack.
Among the most enigmatic, beguiling producers of recent years, Tribe Of Colin blesses Honest Jon’s with a brilliant LP suite of acidic steppers and hieroglyphic, rhythmelodic riddles comparable to everything from early Shackleton or Hype Williams to Theo Parrish and Alan Lomax recordings
Hustling 9 original tracks of amorphous, rugged dub and astral synths, ‘Age of Aquarius’ arrives in the murky but iridescent wake of Colin’s tape for John T. Gast’s 5GT, a self-issued CD + 12” on Tniegebrohood, and an outstanding slab of rollicking soundsystem pressure in 2018, to certify what his cult coven of disciples already knew; this guy is making some of the baddest, tracky dub weight out there right now.
Reeling from 10 minute acid-dub steppers styles in ‘Creator God’ to scratchy but lush synth-soul expression in ‘Cradle To The Sunset’, the album plays out like a proper long-player in the most classic sense, and inarguably adds up to the most significant and broadly definitive release in Tribe Of Colin’s ark.
Beyond the acid-wrought gates of ‘Creator God’, he uses pineal-picked samples of gnostic voices to temper and set off the album on its earth-to-mars trajectories; throwing down a sort of kongolese EBM made from salvaged pipes and steam-powered synths on ‘Alan’, alongside the pacy electro-step brilliance of ‘Eye Of Ra’ and ‘Woman Of Amazon’, before taking it introspective on the Theo-esque brukken beat deviation of ‘Self / Distance’, and tweaking classic rave chords into a sort of crimped mix of Ethiopiques sway and grime-style nudges on the superb highlight ‘Paradise Lost’, and saving the skudgy dembow swagger of ‘Frequency Interference’ for babylon-trampling beasts who still dance when the lights go up.