Tuesday, 7 July 2009

Thrills Spill



If this isn't one of the most inventive club bangers of the year, then 2009 will have been a golden year indeed. Based on the leaks, Clipse look all but destined to stumble over the remnants of their previous classics with their upcoming album Til The Casket Drops, but miraculously, and almost from out of nowhere veterans of the scene Quik and Kurupt have emerged out of the mists to deliver the kind of crushing minimalist genius we've usually come to expect of the Virginia duo.

Emamanting from the speakers with tooth cracking verocity "9 x Outta 10" attacks the eardrums like a tighter wound version of "Grindin" that continues to slither and mutate from beginning to end, a diced up, semi-operatic, mournful vocal line fluttering in suspension throughout, barely managing to hold itself above the violently, hollow drums that penetrate the empty spaces in the song, while the sounds of gathering storm clouds hover and threaten to engulf everything beneath them. Seriously, by the end of the year few things will have probably rattled as viscerally as this future classic.






It's interesting and fascinating how music can unexpectedly transport your mind to places you never expected it to take you, especially if you happen to have a ridiculously overactive imagination which tends to lead you down strange pathways. When I listened to the hyphy madness of "Jacka No Hoe", equal parts industrial mood, drunk goof, I never anticipated that it might remind me of the classic 1980's ghost film "The Changeling", but it did and that's almost entirely down to the four note echoing bang that brings the track to life, a sound eerily similar to the supernatural noise that haunts the unfortunate soul terrorized in his cavernous mansion by a phantom child. Add to that a whining plastic violin, the kind of which might be heard drifting from under cracks in the doors to the locked rooms of cheap, phantasm B-movies, and a sparse, chattering synth line that drifts and vibrates in the air, and you've got one of the more bizarre bangers of recent.






After a few weeks of sun, thunder and lightning here on the island of castles and ghosts, I shall be returning to NYC very soon, and in excited anticipation I've been listening to a lot of Ricky Blaze, more so than usual. Last time I was in Brooklyn the trancehall strains of assorted hyperactive Blaze productions seemed to drift through the dry air for an eternity (as well as "Turnin Me On") which made me feel if I closed my eyes I could imagine I was wondering the streets of some pixelated sub-tropic jungle. This cut from Young AK is one of my favourites. I'm just a total sucker for those midi-epic, trance synth arpeggios that wash over you as various sized electronic bubbles make their way to the surface. Roll on Supercore.

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