Review: Actress

Actress Ghettoville (Werkdiscs, 2014)

Sometimes, a new album comes out and questions my very relationship with music, and my own consumption of it. The last record that significantly challenged me in such a way was probably Far Side Virtual, James Ferraro's nightmarish ringtones-turned-performance-art dystopus (if I may invent a word for it). While a lot could be said about Ferraro's philosophical influences and conceptual insight, channeling Baudrillard, grime and Second Life, what made Far Side Virtual such a hellish cultural hallmark was that it reconfigured seemingly redundant sounds - MIDI, computer blips, the Wii start-up menu - into a Frankenstein-ian monstrosity of a generation's maximalist values. Beneath the chintz and the promises of the digital age, the scariest thing about Far Side Virtual was that it was grounded in reality; as noted by its creator, "people kind of live in it already."

What's the connection, then, between this ersatz album and Ghettoville, the latest (and possibly final) release from Darren Cunningham's Actress project? The niches carved out by the respective artists couldn't possibly be further from each other: while Ferraro crafted a claustrophobic, densely layered simulacra of new age synths and Garageband drum loops, the two preceding Actress albums have been spatial, micro-repetitious deconstructions of house and techno. Ghettoville, however, is an intriguing entry into Cunningham's artistic lexicon, as it forgoes the cosmic sonics of R.I.P and Splazsh and retreats into a congested, dusty headspace which recalls industrial music and crud-infused beat tapes.

Naturally, Ghettoville can be viewed as a direct sequel to Actress' slept-on debut album, Hazyville: not only in name, giving the impression of a release cycle coming to an end, but also in the atmospherics conjured up by Cunningham. If Hazyville spent the majority of its time shrouded in a mysterious fug, Ghettoville takes the haze to its logical extreme, with a scraping, scratchy aesthetic imposed on near-enough every last congenital fiber of the album. Moments of clarity are few and far between: this is a nebulous record, and as such it's possibly the most aurally challenging of Actress' transmissions to date.

Cunningham's deployment of vocal samples had always been subtle, a secondary aspect to the loops, beats and keys of the music itself, but Ghettoville subverts this by not only making vocals a central element of the sound, but in some instances the focal point of the track. Some commentators have noted the parallels between Actress' treatment of samples and the Internet micro-genre vaporwave, which similarly dislocates and reimagines vocal cuts from sources such as pop, RnB and soul. The vaporwave connection becomes an extremely significant one upon further examination: indeed, the aforementioned Far Side Virtual is very much stylistically attached to the vaporwave genre, and a notable element of the ethos of these enigmatic online presences (INTERNET CLUB, New Dreams Ltd. et al.) is that they explore our fascination with the Internet's convenience as a platform for distribution and the ensuing throwaway culture it consequently creates.

It's telling that one of the most poignant moments contained within Ghettoville is a simple vocal loop, accompanied by a three note progression. "Don't", which spans just over a minute in length, carries the intonation "Don't stop the music", possibly extracted from a rather ubiquitous pop artist. With the album's press release calling for music's eulogy, this track can be straightforwardly dissected: the "pseudo artists" run rampant, reducing the essence, the wonder of music into a hollowed-out void. No hope - "Zero satisfaction." The unbearable truth; the music will, at some point, stop.

The perceptive unity of what is actually a rather diverse release is a testament to Cunningham's hoodwinking approach to sound. Amidst the crushed sample-and-loop aesthetic, the sophisticated inner workings of Ghettoville will reveal themselves with intent listening: it's formed upon the basis of a ghostly shell of techno, fused with productions tics from the left-field. However, I still must ask myself - does Ghettoville question my relationship with music as Ferraro and the plucky web enigmas have? In a nutshell, yes. With what is possibly the final release in the Actress image, Cunningham has evoked a hopelessly bleak existence - the musical ghetto - and while our innate desire for music will continue, we are already living beyond music history. R.I.P Music 2014.

Review: The Range

The Range Nonfiction (Donky Pitch, 2013)

Nonfiction is the debut full-length from Donky Pitch's very own producing trailblazer, James Hinton, who has been enjoying a considerable buzz over the past year or so over the release of the EPs Disk and Seneca. However, upon hearing the intricate farrago of chillwave, footwork and jungle beats on his latest assemblage, it is evident that this 25 year old arriviste hasn't only appeared on the IDM scene in order to put out generic dance records and make a living off techno hypebeasts; he has come to expand the ever reforming barriers of modern bass music.

As Pitchfork rightly claimed, "Nonfiction isn't an album easily pegged to any scene or narrative currently circulating about electronic music", as it fluctuates between faster paced tracks with warm vintage vibe, (e.g. 'FM Myth'), and low-key R&B influenced numbers that sit comfortably in the stoner psychedelia spectrum. Despite the presence of more club-orientated members like 'The One' and the aforementioned progressively bassy 'FM Myth', the album always feels tightly packed and neatly presented due to Hinton's conscious ear for production and harmonious juxtapositions, similar to some of UK born Squarepusher's earlier releases such 'I Wish You Could Talk' and 'Do You Know Squarepusher'.

Quirky drum patterns and warped synthesisers take centre stage on Nonfiction, but hard-edged vocals and the ebb and flow of almost tranquil piano pieces are also exceedingly prominent throughout the album. This, combined with the contrasting foggy echoes of muffled grime samples, leaves you with a slightly inebriated feel as the intelligently apposing oppositions draw you further and further into the dense layers of IDM fantasia.  

All in all, given Hinton's ability to take sounds from a multitude of complex genres and mish-mash together in such consonance, it is perfectly clear as to why he goes by the name of The Range - the future looks extremely promising for the underestimated 25 year old.

Review: Laurel Halo

Laurel Halo Chance of Rain (Hyperdub, 2013)

Ina Cube has followed an interesting musical trajectory under her Laurel Halo moniker. The sound of Laurel Halo is in constant flux, be it the ethereal, warped pop of the King Felix EP, the dislocated dance music of Hour Logic or the queasy ambiance of last year's Quarantine. A few months ago, her Behind the Green Door EP was released, which proved to be a meticulously crafted not-quite-house excursion which defied any suitable listening experiences; it wasn't repetitive enough for a gym playlist, nor was it quite as involving or forward-thinking as any previous releases.

In a way, defying convention is what the ever-evolving Laurel Halo project is all about. The aforementioned Quarantine was possibly the single most divisive release of 2012, and this divisiveness lay in Halo's controversial decision to leave her vocals untreated and at the forefront of the album's sound. The rift between the record's admirers and doubters was obvious, ranging from its rather conspicuous position atop The Wire magazine's end-of-year chart to angry commenters spewing bile over it (as one RateYourMusic reviewer eloquently puts it, "This is just fucking awful"). Chance of Rain sees Halo drop the vocals, or at least removes them from the forefront, and while it certainly won't prove to be as controversial as its predecessor, it's no less challenging for it. In fact, it's a markedly singular release in a year already filled to bursting point with alternative experiences.

On Chance of Rain, Halo is continuing to explore the dislocated techno/house of her Behind the Green Door EP. While the EP was steeped in the rigidity of said genres, this record is a far more contemplative and flexible record which manages to upend the archetypal techno sound. Opening track "Dr Echt", which takes its name from the Dutch word for a river ford, clears space with 80s jazz-esque electric piano keys, before "Oneiroi" fills the void with pulsating, subtly shifting synths and frenetic drum patterns. Throughout the album, displaced melodies are introduced and deftly worked into the record's framework; the title track features a particularly elegant piano arrangement, which completely alters the track's dynamic.

Ultimately, Chance of Rain is another exemplary entry into the canon of one of electronic music's finest current artists. Despite doffing its cap to the genres and movements that influence it, Chance of Rain never fully embraces them. Instead, it creates its own headspace, an airy dreamscape infiltrated by off-kilter techno beats and fragmented micro-repetitions of sound. Many, myself included, were initially disappointed that Halo's vocals wouldn't be resurfacing this time around, but the beauty and grace of this instrumental suite can make a case for itself.