Klein
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Boomkat Product Review:
Klein makes an unforgettable introduction to her fractious, playfully warped mosaics of R&B pop, avant-garde electronics and contemporary, psychedelic gospel soul.
It’s a feast of urbane imagination, coining a naturally complex, nuanced style of composition that feels something like a more modern, London-based example of Matana Roberts’ travelogues hacked up by Mica Levi and D/P/I, or what might happen if Laurel Halo and Dean Blunt made a record together. Then again, all those analogies slide off just as easily as they’re applied; this is fearlessly original stuff.
From the 2-step and avant-operatics of Hello ft Samuel Jacob to the purple-hued chords of Shoutouts - to “all those bitches at St. Charles College, and Rita Ora, too” (youch!) - every beat, jarring edit, and juxtaposed sample is kerned, pitted and shaped for optimal, uncompromised expression in a manner normally befitting of some long-in-the-tooth psyche hermit.
In her world, bottom-heavy but skinny beats scroll into warped acid trapdoors, samples are recklessly sped up to the point of evaporation, and deliquescent R&B vocals are prone to taser-blasts of glitching electronics or extreme processing, layering growled drones with airy soprano in Christmas Thirst or diffracted into Inga Copland-styled ketholes in Babyfather Chill, whilst her ambiguous sense of diaristic meta-madness really comes into play with the helium-vocalled pastor clashed against some heated argument and hollow drones in Marks of Worship.
Ah maaan, it’s just a lot, really.
View more
Boomkat Product Review:
Klein makes an unforgettable introduction to her fractious, playfully warped mosaics of R&B pop, avant-garde electronics and contemporary, psychedelic gospel soul.
It’s a feast of urbane imagination, coining a naturally complex, nuanced style of composition that feels something like a more modern, London-based example of Matana Roberts’ travelogues hacked up by Mica Levi and D/P/I, or what might happen if Laurel Halo and Dean Blunt made a record together. Then again, all those analogies slide off just as easily as they’re applied; this is fearlessly original stuff.
From the 2-step and avant-operatics of Hello ft Samuel Jacob to the purple-hued chords of Shoutouts - to “all those bitches at St. Charles College, and Rita Ora, too” (youch!) - every beat, jarring edit, and juxtaposed sample is kerned, pitted and shaped for optimal, uncompromised expression in a manner normally befitting of some long-in-the-tooth psyche hermit.
In her world, bottom-heavy but skinny beats scroll into warped acid trapdoors, samples are recklessly sped up to the point of evaporation, and deliquescent R&B vocals are prone to taser-blasts of glitching electronics or extreme processing, layering growled drones with airy soprano in Christmas Thirst or diffracted into Inga Copland-styled ketholes in Babyfather Chill, whilst her ambiguous sense of diaristic meta-madness really comes into play with the helium-vocalled pastor clashed against some heated argument and hollow drones in Marks of Worship.
Ah maaan, it’s just a lot, really.
Boomkat Product Review:
Klein makes an unforgettable introduction to her fractious, playfully warped mosaics of R&B pop, avant-garde electronics and contemporary, psychedelic gospel soul.
It’s a feast of urbane imagination, coining a naturally complex, nuanced style of composition that feels something like a more modern, London-based example of Matana Roberts’ travelogues hacked up by Mica Levi and D/P/I, or what might happen if Laurel Halo and Dean Blunt made a record together. Then again, all those analogies slide off just as easily as they’re applied; this is fearlessly original stuff.
From the 2-step and avant-operatics of Hello ft Samuel Jacob to the purple-hued chords of Shoutouts - to “all those bitches at St. Charles College, and Rita Ora, too” (youch!) - every beat, jarring edit, and juxtaposed sample is kerned, pitted and shaped for optimal, uncompromised expression in a manner normally befitting of some long-in-the-tooth psyche hermit.
In her world, bottom-heavy but skinny beats scroll into warped acid trapdoors, samples are recklessly sped up to the point of evaporation, and deliquescent R&B vocals are prone to taser-blasts of glitching electronics or extreme processing, layering growled drones with airy soprano in Christmas Thirst or diffracted into Inga Copland-styled ketholes in Babyfather Chill, whilst her ambiguous sense of diaristic meta-madness really comes into play with the helium-vocalled pastor clashed against some heated argument and hollow drones in Marks of Worship.
Ah maaan, it’s just a lot, really.
Boomkat Product Review:
Klein makes an unforgettable introduction to her fractious, playfully warped mosaics of R&B pop, avant-garde electronics and contemporary, psychedelic gospel soul.
It’s a feast of urbane imagination, coining a naturally complex, nuanced style of composition that feels something like a more modern, London-based example of Matana Roberts’ travelogues hacked up by Mica Levi and D/P/I, or what might happen if Laurel Halo and Dean Blunt made a record together. Then again, all those analogies slide off just as easily as they’re applied; this is fearlessly original stuff.
From the 2-step and avant-operatics of Hello ft Samuel Jacob to the purple-hued chords of Shoutouts - to “all those bitches at St. Charles College, and Rita Ora, too” (youch!) - every beat, jarring edit, and juxtaposed sample is kerned, pitted and shaped for optimal, uncompromised expression in a manner normally befitting of some long-in-the-tooth psyche hermit.
In her world, bottom-heavy but skinny beats scroll into warped acid trapdoors, samples are recklessly sped up to the point of evaporation, and deliquescent R&B vocals are prone to taser-blasts of glitching electronics or extreme processing, layering growled drones with airy soprano in Christmas Thirst or diffracted into Inga Copland-styled ketholes in Babyfather Chill, whilst her ambiguous sense of diaristic meta-madness really comes into play with the helium-vocalled pastor clashed against some heated argument and hollow drones in Marks of Worship.
Ah maaan, it’s just a lot, really.
*Please note - last copies have a torn spine!* New vinyl edition, 250 copies only - includes an instant download. This is different to the original edition of 100 copies.
Out of Stock
Boomkat Product Review:
Klein makes an unforgettable introduction to her fractious, playfully warped mosaics of R&B pop, avant-garde electronics and contemporary, psychedelic gospel soul.
It’s a feast of urbane imagination, coining a naturally complex, nuanced style of composition that feels something like a more modern, London-based example of Matana Roberts’ travelogues hacked up by Mica Levi and D/P/I, or what might happen if Laurel Halo and Dean Blunt made a record together. Then again, all those analogies slide off just as easily as they’re applied; this is fearlessly original stuff.
From the 2-step and avant-operatics of Hello ft Samuel Jacob to the purple-hued chords of Shoutouts - to “all those bitches at St. Charles College, and Rita Ora, too” (youch!) - every beat, jarring edit, and juxtaposed sample is kerned, pitted and shaped for optimal, uncompromised expression in a manner normally befitting of some long-in-the-tooth psyche hermit.
In her world, bottom-heavy but skinny beats scroll into warped acid trapdoors, samples are recklessly sped up to the point of evaporation, and deliquescent R&B vocals are prone to taser-blasts of glitching electronics or extreme processing, layering growled drones with airy soprano in Christmas Thirst or diffracted into Inga Copland-styled ketholes in Babyfather Chill, whilst her ambiguous sense of diaristic meta-madness really comes into play with the helium-vocalled pastor clashed against some heated argument and hollow drones in Marks of Worship.
Ah maaan, it’s just a lot, really.
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