Lee Gamble
Models
Boomkat Product Review:
Lee Gamble considers the illusory impact of vocals on 'Models', using emerging technologies to fashion uncanny pop music that links Liz Fraser's mysterious lingual tics with rave's disembodied diva loops and the hoarse rasp of trip-hop. For our money it's his most crushing full-length to date, an earworm-addled, emotional pop record that's as strange, poignant and haunted as his breakout 'Diversions 1994-1996'.
Over the last few years, Gamble has become fascinated with the concept of the earworm - the sounds we absorb unknowingly and can't wrestle away from even when we want to. Earworms can be good and bad: they can be the hook from Inner City's 'Good Life', or they can be a carcinogenic, committee-developed saccharine injection. On 'Models', Gamble microscopically unpacks the vocal music that's stayed with him over the years - like Cocteau Twins, Tricky and more recently Future and Lil Uzi Vert - and attempts to extract its essence. He's not making pop music exactly, but using its techniques to inspire a suite of radio-friendly miniatures that reflect pop's charm and counter its plasticity.
When Gamble assembled 'Diversions' back in the early 2010s, he distilled jungle's ambient breakdowns into hazy memories. Here, he does a similar thing with a more traditionally recognisable/mainstream format, using the tools of sonic oppression to suggest an alternative - music that's robotic but sensual, futuristic but connected to a vast tree of vocal music and bardic poetry that underpins our entire culture of entertainment. Gamble's quick to say that 'Models' isn't an AI album, but he used machine learning techniques to help him develop the voices that we hear on the record.
A wandering, cybernetic cry introduces us to 'Purple, Orange', singing in a wordless, fantasy dialect while Gamble stretches its reverberations into euphoria. It only lasts a moment before 'Juice' arrives like a half-cut recollection of '90s trance; delirious arpeggiated synths cough over bass drops, but it's the voice that provides the focus. There are plenty of artists tapping this wellspring right now, from Malibu to Courtesy, but Gamble avoids being drowned by idealisation, preferring to imagine his own fertile emotional landscape. And on lead single 'She's Not' he takes another sharp turn, layering peculiar, shoegaze-adjacent guitars that coax us into the saturated, stadium-ready hook.
These airy phrases levitate across 'Blurring', a dusted chugger that's an update of Tricky's hallowed 'Maxinquaye'-era swagger. Even the echo that fragments the track's robotic pulse sounds era-specific, but the form is defective; it's trip-hop, in some way, but broken into tiny shards and glued back together like kintsugi. Despite being his most rigorously mechanical album, 'Models' is also Gamble's most fluid and emotional, playing on heartstrings and recollections as if moulded out of our own private, personal putty. Decidedly British, it's a look back at history that imagines an alternate future that's aware of the steady creep of technology, but never at its mercy. It might be the most hopeful record we've heard this year, and certainly one of the best.
View more
Boomkat Product Review:
Lee Gamble considers the illusory impact of vocals on 'Models', using emerging technologies to fashion uncanny pop music that links Liz Fraser's mysterious lingual tics with rave's disembodied diva loops and the hoarse rasp of trip-hop. For our money it's his most crushing full-length to date, an earworm-addled, emotional pop record that's as strange, poignant and haunted as his breakout 'Diversions 1994-1996'.
Over the last few years, Gamble has become fascinated with the concept of the earworm - the sounds we absorb unknowingly and can't wrestle away from even when we want to. Earworms can be good and bad: they can be the hook from Inner City's 'Good Life', or they can be a carcinogenic, committee-developed saccharine injection. On 'Models', Gamble microscopically unpacks the vocal music that's stayed with him over the years - like Cocteau Twins, Tricky and more recently Future and Lil Uzi Vert - and attempts to extract its essence. He's not making pop music exactly, but using its techniques to inspire a suite of radio-friendly miniatures that reflect pop's charm and counter its plasticity.
When Gamble assembled 'Diversions' back in the early 2010s, he distilled jungle's ambient breakdowns into hazy memories. Here, he does a similar thing with a more traditionally recognisable/mainstream format, using the tools of sonic oppression to suggest an alternative - music that's robotic but sensual, futuristic but connected to a vast tree of vocal music and bardic poetry that underpins our entire culture of entertainment. Gamble's quick to say that 'Models' isn't an AI album, but he used machine learning techniques to help him develop the voices that we hear on the record.
A wandering, cybernetic cry introduces us to 'Purple, Orange', singing in a wordless, fantasy dialect while Gamble stretches its reverberations into euphoria. It only lasts a moment before 'Juice' arrives like a half-cut recollection of '90s trance; delirious arpeggiated synths cough over bass drops, but it's the voice that provides the focus. There are plenty of artists tapping this wellspring right now, from Malibu to Courtesy, but Gamble avoids being drowned by idealisation, preferring to imagine his own fertile emotional landscape. And on lead single 'She's Not' he takes another sharp turn, layering peculiar, shoegaze-adjacent guitars that coax us into the saturated, stadium-ready hook.
These airy phrases levitate across 'Blurring', a dusted chugger that's an update of Tricky's hallowed 'Maxinquaye'-era swagger. Even the echo that fragments the track's robotic pulse sounds era-specific, but the form is defective; it's trip-hop, in some way, but broken into tiny shards and glued back together like kintsugi. Despite being his most rigorously mechanical album, 'Models' is also Gamble's most fluid and emotional, playing on heartstrings and recollections as if moulded out of our own private, personal putty. Decidedly British, it's a look back at history that imagines an alternate future that's aware of the steady creep of technology, but never at its mercy. It might be the most hopeful record we've heard this year, and certainly one of the best.
Boomkat Product Review:
Lee Gamble considers the illusory impact of vocals on 'Models', using emerging technologies to fashion uncanny pop music that links Liz Fraser's mysterious lingual tics with rave's disembodied diva loops and the hoarse rasp of trip-hop. For our money it's his most crushing full-length to date, an earworm-addled, emotional pop record that's as strange, poignant and haunted as his breakout 'Diversions 1994-1996'.
Over the last few years, Gamble has become fascinated with the concept of the earworm - the sounds we absorb unknowingly and can't wrestle away from even when we want to. Earworms can be good and bad: they can be the hook from Inner City's 'Good Life', or they can be a carcinogenic, committee-developed saccharine injection. On 'Models', Gamble microscopically unpacks the vocal music that's stayed with him over the years - like Cocteau Twins, Tricky and more recently Future and Lil Uzi Vert - and attempts to extract its essence. He's not making pop music exactly, but using its techniques to inspire a suite of radio-friendly miniatures that reflect pop's charm and counter its plasticity.
When Gamble assembled 'Diversions' back in the early 2010s, he distilled jungle's ambient breakdowns into hazy memories. Here, he does a similar thing with a more traditionally recognisable/mainstream format, using the tools of sonic oppression to suggest an alternative - music that's robotic but sensual, futuristic but connected to a vast tree of vocal music and bardic poetry that underpins our entire culture of entertainment. Gamble's quick to say that 'Models' isn't an AI album, but he used machine learning techniques to help him develop the voices that we hear on the record.
A wandering, cybernetic cry introduces us to 'Purple, Orange', singing in a wordless, fantasy dialect while Gamble stretches its reverberations into euphoria. It only lasts a moment before 'Juice' arrives like a half-cut recollection of '90s trance; delirious arpeggiated synths cough over bass drops, but it's the voice that provides the focus. There are plenty of artists tapping this wellspring right now, from Malibu to Courtesy, but Gamble avoids being drowned by idealisation, preferring to imagine his own fertile emotional landscape. And on lead single 'She's Not' he takes another sharp turn, layering peculiar, shoegaze-adjacent guitars that coax us into the saturated, stadium-ready hook.
These airy phrases levitate across 'Blurring', a dusted chugger that's an update of Tricky's hallowed 'Maxinquaye'-era swagger. Even the echo that fragments the track's robotic pulse sounds era-specific, but the form is defective; it's trip-hop, in some way, but broken into tiny shards and glued back together like kintsugi. Despite being his most rigorously mechanical album, 'Models' is also Gamble's most fluid and emotional, playing on heartstrings and recollections as if moulded out of our own private, personal putty. Decidedly British, it's a look back at history that imagines an alternate future that's aware of the steady creep of technology, but never at its mercy. It might be the most hopeful record we've heard this year, and certainly one of the best.
Boomkat Product Review:
Lee Gamble considers the illusory impact of vocals on 'Models', using emerging technologies to fashion uncanny pop music that links Liz Fraser's mysterious lingual tics with rave's disembodied diva loops and the hoarse rasp of trip-hop. For our money it's his most crushing full-length to date, an earworm-addled, emotional pop record that's as strange, poignant and haunted as his breakout 'Diversions 1994-1996'.
Over the last few years, Gamble has become fascinated with the concept of the earworm - the sounds we absorb unknowingly and can't wrestle away from even when we want to. Earworms can be good and bad: they can be the hook from Inner City's 'Good Life', or they can be a carcinogenic, committee-developed saccharine injection. On 'Models', Gamble microscopically unpacks the vocal music that's stayed with him over the years - like Cocteau Twins, Tricky and more recently Future and Lil Uzi Vert - and attempts to extract its essence. He's not making pop music exactly, but using its techniques to inspire a suite of radio-friendly miniatures that reflect pop's charm and counter its plasticity.
When Gamble assembled 'Diversions' back in the early 2010s, he distilled jungle's ambient breakdowns into hazy memories. Here, he does a similar thing with a more traditionally recognisable/mainstream format, using the tools of sonic oppression to suggest an alternative - music that's robotic but sensual, futuristic but connected to a vast tree of vocal music and bardic poetry that underpins our entire culture of entertainment. Gamble's quick to say that 'Models' isn't an AI album, but he used machine learning techniques to help him develop the voices that we hear on the record.
A wandering, cybernetic cry introduces us to 'Purple, Orange', singing in a wordless, fantasy dialect while Gamble stretches its reverberations into euphoria. It only lasts a moment before 'Juice' arrives like a half-cut recollection of '90s trance; delirious arpeggiated synths cough over bass drops, but it's the voice that provides the focus. There are plenty of artists tapping this wellspring right now, from Malibu to Courtesy, but Gamble avoids being drowned by idealisation, preferring to imagine his own fertile emotional landscape. And on lead single 'She's Not' he takes another sharp turn, layering peculiar, shoegaze-adjacent guitars that coax us into the saturated, stadium-ready hook.
These airy phrases levitate across 'Blurring', a dusted chugger that's an update of Tricky's hallowed 'Maxinquaye'-era swagger. Even the echo that fragments the track's robotic pulse sounds era-specific, but the form is defective; it's trip-hop, in some way, but broken into tiny shards and glued back together like kintsugi. Despite being his most rigorously mechanical album, 'Models' is also Gamble's most fluid and emotional, playing on heartstrings and recollections as if moulded out of our own private, personal putty. Decidedly British, it's a look back at history that imagines an alternate future that's aware of the steady creep of technology, but never at its mercy. It might be the most hopeful record we've heard this year, and certainly one of the best.
Natural opaque colour vinyl.
Estimated Release Date: 20 October 2023
Please note that shipping dates for pre-orders are estimated and are subject to change
Boomkat Product Review:
Lee Gamble considers the illusory impact of vocals on 'Models', using emerging technologies to fashion uncanny pop music that links Liz Fraser's mysterious lingual tics with rave's disembodied diva loops and the hoarse rasp of trip-hop. For our money it's his most crushing full-length to date, an earworm-addled, emotional pop record that's as strange, poignant and haunted as his breakout 'Diversions 1994-1996'.
Over the last few years, Gamble has become fascinated with the concept of the earworm - the sounds we absorb unknowingly and can't wrestle away from even when we want to. Earworms can be good and bad: they can be the hook from Inner City's 'Good Life', or they can be a carcinogenic, committee-developed saccharine injection. On 'Models', Gamble microscopically unpacks the vocal music that's stayed with him over the years - like Cocteau Twins, Tricky and more recently Future and Lil Uzi Vert - and attempts to extract its essence. He's not making pop music exactly, but using its techniques to inspire a suite of radio-friendly miniatures that reflect pop's charm and counter its plasticity.
When Gamble assembled 'Diversions' back in the early 2010s, he distilled jungle's ambient breakdowns into hazy memories. Here, he does a similar thing with a more traditionally recognisable/mainstream format, using the tools of sonic oppression to suggest an alternative - music that's robotic but sensual, futuristic but connected to a vast tree of vocal music and bardic poetry that underpins our entire culture of entertainment. Gamble's quick to say that 'Models' isn't an AI album, but he used machine learning techniques to help him develop the voices that we hear on the record.
A wandering, cybernetic cry introduces us to 'Purple, Orange', singing in a wordless, fantasy dialect while Gamble stretches its reverberations into euphoria. It only lasts a moment before 'Juice' arrives like a half-cut recollection of '90s trance; delirious arpeggiated synths cough over bass drops, but it's the voice that provides the focus. There are plenty of artists tapping this wellspring right now, from Malibu to Courtesy, but Gamble avoids being drowned by idealisation, preferring to imagine his own fertile emotional landscape. And on lead single 'She's Not' he takes another sharp turn, layering peculiar, shoegaze-adjacent guitars that coax us into the saturated, stadium-ready hook.
These airy phrases levitate across 'Blurring', a dusted chugger that's an update of Tricky's hallowed 'Maxinquaye'-era swagger. Even the echo that fragments the track's robotic pulse sounds era-specific, but the form is defective; it's trip-hop, in some way, but broken into tiny shards and glued back together like kintsugi. Despite being his most rigorously mechanical album, 'Models' is also Gamble's most fluid and emotional, playing on heartstrings and recollections as if moulded out of our own private, personal putty. Decidedly British, it's a look back at history that imagines an alternate future that's aware of the steady creep of technology, but never at its mercy. It might be the most hopeful record we've heard this year, and certainly one of the best.
Estimated Release Date: 20 October 2023
Please note that shipping dates for pre-orders are estimated and are subject to change
Boomkat Product Review:
Lee Gamble considers the illusory impact of vocals on 'Models', using emerging technologies to fashion uncanny pop music that links Liz Fraser's mysterious lingual tics with rave's disembodied diva loops and the hoarse rasp of trip-hop. For our money it's his most crushing full-length to date, an earworm-addled, emotional pop record that's as strange, poignant and haunted as his breakout 'Diversions 1994-1996'.
Over the last few years, Gamble has become fascinated with the concept of the earworm - the sounds we absorb unknowingly and can't wrestle away from even when we want to. Earworms can be good and bad: they can be the hook from Inner City's 'Good Life', or they can be a carcinogenic, committee-developed saccharine injection. On 'Models', Gamble microscopically unpacks the vocal music that's stayed with him over the years - like Cocteau Twins, Tricky and more recently Future and Lil Uzi Vert - and attempts to extract its essence. He's not making pop music exactly, but using its techniques to inspire a suite of radio-friendly miniatures that reflect pop's charm and counter its plasticity.
When Gamble assembled 'Diversions' back in the early 2010s, he distilled jungle's ambient breakdowns into hazy memories. Here, he does a similar thing with a more traditionally recognisable/mainstream format, using the tools of sonic oppression to suggest an alternative - music that's robotic but sensual, futuristic but connected to a vast tree of vocal music and bardic poetry that underpins our entire culture of entertainment. Gamble's quick to say that 'Models' isn't an AI album, but he used machine learning techniques to help him develop the voices that we hear on the record.
A wandering, cybernetic cry introduces us to 'Purple, Orange', singing in a wordless, fantasy dialect while Gamble stretches its reverberations into euphoria. It only lasts a moment before 'Juice' arrives like a half-cut recollection of '90s trance; delirious arpeggiated synths cough over bass drops, but it's the voice that provides the focus. There are plenty of artists tapping this wellspring right now, from Malibu to Courtesy, but Gamble avoids being drowned by idealisation, preferring to imagine his own fertile emotional landscape. And on lead single 'She's Not' he takes another sharp turn, layering peculiar, shoegaze-adjacent guitars that coax us into the saturated, stadium-ready hook.
These airy phrases levitate across 'Blurring', a dusted chugger that's an update of Tricky's hallowed 'Maxinquaye'-era swagger. Even the echo that fragments the track's robotic pulse sounds era-specific, but the form is defective; it's trip-hop, in some way, but broken into tiny shards and glued back together like kintsugi. Despite being his most rigorously mechanical album, 'Models' is also Gamble's most fluid and emotional, playing on heartstrings and recollections as if moulded out of our own private, personal putty. Decidedly British, it's a look back at history that imagines an alternate future that's aware of the steady creep of technology, but never at its mercy. It might be the most hopeful record we've heard this year, and certainly one of the best.
More from Lee Gamble:
-
Lee Gamble She’s Not Hyperdub Electronic- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLLee Gamble A Million Pieces Of You EP Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- 12" (Black Vinyl)
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLLee Gamble Flush Real Pharynx 2019-2021 Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- CD
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLLee Gamble Exhaust Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- Colour LP
-
Lee Gamble B23 Steelhouse / Motor System (Extension) PAN Techno / House
- 12"
More from Hyperdub:
-
Lila Tirando a Violeta & Sin Maldita Accela Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLLoraine James Gentle Confrontation Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- 2LP (Black Vinyl)
- CD
-
Loraine James I DM U Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
-
Loraine James I DM U (Single) Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLJessy Lanza Pull My Hair Back Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- LP (Black Vinyl)
- CD
People who bought this also bought:
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLANDY STOTT It Should Be Us Modern Love Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- Colour 2LP
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLDJ Plead Relentless Trills Boomkat Editions | Documenting Sound Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- LP (Black Vinyl)
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLDawuna Glass Lit Dream O___o? Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- Colour LP
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLOrgan Tapes 唱着那无人问津的歌谣 / Chang Zhe Na Wu Ren Wen Jin De Ge Yao Worldwide Unlimited Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- LP (Black Vinyl)
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLCarmen Villain x Actress CV x Actress Whitelabel Smalltown Supersound Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- 12" (Black Vinyl)
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLExael Ice That Melts the Tips 3XL Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- LP (Black Vinyl)
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLRat Heart Ratty Rids The Clubs From The Evil Curse Of The Private School DJ’s Shotta Tapes Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- Colour 2LP
-
URA Baby With A Halo Motion Ward Electronic
- LP (Black Vinyl)
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLNug Napping Under God 3XL Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- LP (Black Vinyl)
-
FREE MP3 WITH VINYLBurial Streetlands EP Hyperdub Electronic
- MP3
- FLAC
- WAV
- 12" (Black Vinyl)