Actress' accomplice in Thriller and with Tapes as Rezzett, Lukid reprises a patented style of bittersweet, crooked and psychoactive music on his first new album in a decade.
Now almost fifteen years deep into his shapeshifting productions, Luke Blair's music has long been symptomatic of a desire in electronic music to find a sweetspot between ambient/experimental dance music’s woozier urges and the deglazed/defocussed qualities of shoegaze and noise, with a sound that loosely breaks down along the lines of post-Detroit techno, UK club music, lo-slung boogie and freer textural expressionism. At its best, his work feels like it's been applied directly to canvas, with an actionist quality of graffiti evoked by its aerosolised, silver-greyscale colour schemes and disciplined angularities that feels like he’s spray-sketching after-impressions of raves on warehouse walls or the back of the eyelids.
’Tilt’ finds Lukid comfortable once again with a full-length format that provides ample room for his ideas to run amok and ring out in an echo of the prism-cracked production style of his releases on Actress’ Werk Discs. In a classic-contemporary UK style the music feels torn between urbane and pastoral, imagining strains of rugged road and club musics as overgrown by nature and distorted by magnetic fields as the album proceeds from syrupy soul strings treated to patented astringents in the initial ‘End Melody’, to its elegiac ‘End Loop’.
Keysites of inspiration lend a dreamy deep-cartographic spirit as on the discreet afterhours rave vibe of ‘Haringey Leisure’, and osmotic influence of ‘Anatolia’, while the sweeping strings of ‘The Great Schlep’ recalls the vividly evocative qualities of Honour’s killer slabs, and the spangled dancehall one-two feels like Rat Heart’s bleary red-eyed vision of South-Central Manchester transposed to London maps, and the flinty breaks of ‘Confessions of a Wimp’ conjure comparisons with his Rezzett works, albeit left to mulch in a warehouse for 10 years, and ‘How It’s Made’ echoes sentiments of the new mid-fi crew such as Mica Levi or Coby Sey in its frayed shiftiness and bittersweet appeal.
View more
Actress' accomplice in Thriller and with Tapes as Rezzett, Lukid reprises a patented style of bittersweet, crooked and psychoactive music on his first new album in a decade.
Now almost fifteen years deep into his shapeshifting productions, Luke Blair's music has long been symptomatic of a desire in electronic music to find a sweetspot between ambient/experimental dance music’s woozier urges and the deglazed/defocussed qualities of shoegaze and noise, with a sound that loosely breaks down along the lines of post-Detroit techno, UK club music, lo-slung boogie and freer textural expressionism. At its best, his work feels like it's been applied directly to canvas, with an actionist quality of graffiti evoked by its aerosolised, silver-greyscale colour schemes and disciplined angularities that feels like he’s spray-sketching after-impressions of raves on warehouse walls or the back of the eyelids.
’Tilt’ finds Lukid comfortable once again with a full-length format that provides ample room for his ideas to run amok and ring out in an echo of the prism-cracked production style of his releases on Actress’ Werk Discs. In a classic-contemporary UK style the music feels torn between urbane and pastoral, imagining strains of rugged road and club musics as overgrown by nature and distorted by magnetic fields as the album proceeds from syrupy soul strings treated to patented astringents in the initial ‘End Melody’, to its elegiac ‘End Loop’.
Keysites of inspiration lend a dreamy deep-cartographic spirit as on the discreet afterhours rave vibe of ‘Haringey Leisure’, and osmotic influence of ‘Anatolia’, while the sweeping strings of ‘The Great Schlep’ recalls the vividly evocative qualities of Honour’s killer slabs, and the spangled dancehall one-two feels like Rat Heart’s bleary red-eyed vision of South-Central Manchester transposed to London maps, and the flinty breaks of ‘Confessions of a Wimp’ conjure comparisons with his Rezzett works, albeit left to mulch in a warehouse for 10 years, and ‘How It’s Made’ echoes sentiments of the new mid-fi crew such as Mica Levi or Coby Sey in its frayed shiftiness and bittersweet appeal.
Actress' accomplice in Thriller and with Tapes as Rezzett, Lukid reprises a patented style of bittersweet, crooked and psychoactive music on his first new album in a decade.
Now almost fifteen years deep into his shapeshifting productions, Luke Blair's music has long been symptomatic of a desire in electronic music to find a sweetspot between ambient/experimental dance music’s woozier urges and the deglazed/defocussed qualities of shoegaze and noise, with a sound that loosely breaks down along the lines of post-Detroit techno, UK club music, lo-slung boogie and freer textural expressionism. At its best, his work feels like it's been applied directly to canvas, with an actionist quality of graffiti evoked by its aerosolised, silver-greyscale colour schemes and disciplined angularities that feels like he’s spray-sketching after-impressions of raves on warehouse walls or the back of the eyelids.
’Tilt’ finds Lukid comfortable once again with a full-length format that provides ample room for his ideas to run amok and ring out in an echo of the prism-cracked production style of his releases on Actress’ Werk Discs. In a classic-contemporary UK style the music feels torn between urbane and pastoral, imagining strains of rugged road and club musics as overgrown by nature and distorted by magnetic fields as the album proceeds from syrupy soul strings treated to patented astringents in the initial ‘End Melody’, to its elegiac ‘End Loop’.
Keysites of inspiration lend a dreamy deep-cartographic spirit as on the discreet afterhours rave vibe of ‘Haringey Leisure’, and osmotic influence of ‘Anatolia’, while the sweeping strings of ‘The Great Schlep’ recalls the vividly evocative qualities of Honour’s killer slabs, and the spangled dancehall one-two feels like Rat Heart’s bleary red-eyed vision of South-Central Manchester transposed to London maps, and the flinty breaks of ‘Confessions of a Wimp’ conjure comparisons with his Rezzett works, albeit left to mulch in a warehouse for 10 years, and ‘How It’s Made’ echoes sentiments of the new mid-fi crew such as Mica Levi or Coby Sey in its frayed shiftiness and bittersweet appeal.
Actress' accomplice in Thriller and with Tapes as Rezzett, Lukid reprises a patented style of bittersweet, crooked and psychoactive music on his first new album in a decade.
Now almost fifteen years deep into his shapeshifting productions, Luke Blair's music has long been symptomatic of a desire in electronic music to find a sweetspot between ambient/experimental dance music’s woozier urges and the deglazed/defocussed qualities of shoegaze and noise, with a sound that loosely breaks down along the lines of post-Detroit techno, UK club music, lo-slung boogie and freer textural expressionism. At its best, his work feels like it's been applied directly to canvas, with an actionist quality of graffiti evoked by its aerosolised, silver-greyscale colour schemes and disciplined angularities that feels like he’s spray-sketching after-impressions of raves on warehouse walls or the back of the eyelids.
’Tilt’ finds Lukid comfortable once again with a full-length format that provides ample room for his ideas to run amok and ring out in an echo of the prism-cracked production style of his releases on Actress’ Werk Discs. In a classic-contemporary UK style the music feels torn between urbane and pastoral, imagining strains of rugged road and club musics as overgrown by nature and distorted by magnetic fields as the album proceeds from syrupy soul strings treated to patented astringents in the initial ‘End Melody’, to its elegiac ‘End Loop’.
Keysites of inspiration lend a dreamy deep-cartographic spirit as on the discreet afterhours rave vibe of ‘Haringey Leisure’, and osmotic influence of ‘Anatolia’, while the sweeping strings of ‘The Great Schlep’ recalls the vividly evocative qualities of Honour’s killer slabs, and the spangled dancehall one-two feels like Rat Heart’s bleary red-eyed vision of South-Central Manchester transposed to London maps, and the flinty breaks of ‘Confessions of a Wimp’ conjure comparisons with his Rezzett works, albeit left to mulch in a warehouse for 10 years, and ‘How It’s Made’ echoes sentiments of the new mid-fi crew such as Mica Levi or Coby Sey in its frayed shiftiness and bittersweet appeal.
Back in stock.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
Actress' accomplice in Thriller and with Tapes as Rezzett, Lukid reprises a patented style of bittersweet, crooked and psychoactive music on his first new album in a decade.
Now almost fifteen years deep into his shapeshifting productions, Luke Blair's music has long been symptomatic of a desire in electronic music to find a sweetspot between ambient/experimental dance music’s woozier urges and the deglazed/defocussed qualities of shoegaze and noise, with a sound that loosely breaks down along the lines of post-Detroit techno, UK club music, lo-slung boogie and freer textural expressionism. At its best, his work feels like it's been applied directly to canvas, with an actionist quality of graffiti evoked by its aerosolised, silver-greyscale colour schemes and disciplined angularities that feels like he’s spray-sketching after-impressions of raves on warehouse walls or the back of the eyelids.
’Tilt’ finds Lukid comfortable once again with a full-length format that provides ample room for his ideas to run amok and ring out in an echo of the prism-cracked production style of his releases on Actress’ Werk Discs. In a classic-contemporary UK style the music feels torn between urbane and pastoral, imagining strains of rugged road and club musics as overgrown by nature and distorted by magnetic fields as the album proceeds from syrupy soul strings treated to patented astringents in the initial ‘End Melody’, to its elegiac ‘End Loop’.
Keysites of inspiration lend a dreamy deep-cartographic spirit as on the discreet afterhours rave vibe of ‘Haringey Leisure’, and osmotic influence of ‘Anatolia’, while the sweeping strings of ‘The Great Schlep’ recalls the vividly evocative qualities of Honour’s killer slabs, and the spangled dancehall one-two feels like Rat Heart’s bleary red-eyed vision of South-Central Manchester transposed to London maps, and the flinty breaks of ‘Confessions of a Wimp’ conjure comparisons with his Rezzett works, albeit left to mulch in a warehouse for 10 years, and ‘How It’s Made’ echoes sentiments of the new mid-fi crew such as Mica Levi or Coby Sey in its frayed shiftiness and bittersweet appeal.