Lone's 'Once In A While' has been one of the most in-demand tunes of the past six months, and now finally it's going to hit the racks courtesy of Werk Discs. Previewed on Kode9's DJ Kicks mix, and positively drooled over by countless other top-line selectors, 'Once In A While' is a luxuriant rush through glowing synth clouds and sun-dappled deep house of an early 90s vintage, that instantly captures the imagination as much as it rapidly raises the spirits, providing a classic Lone atmosphere, with a rudely funky bassline to keep feet moving as the heart-melting melodies overlap. Sinden's version places a snaking soca rhythm at the centre of the mix to draw out increased levels of dancefloor energy, while newcomer Midland heads in the opposite direction to spin a delicate web of floating, pulsing grace from Lone's original silken threads. A glorious 12" that's sure to chart high on many best-of lists come the close of the year.
Debuting in summer 2004, Werk carefully selected an array of unkown talent with which to launch their first assalut on record buying senses. Mixing a blend of influences from London grimey business through to Detroit beat-driven technoid re-constructions, electroid mayhem, nervously modified break mashups and padded bass-stab devastation - marvel at the wondrous cut-ups of Actress (the sound of Robocop's anaerobic workout routine on crack), Byte Stripes (a media revolution via the medium of 10/8 jungle - killerstyles), Ben Codec (algorhythms on toast and ash-tray muesli bezerkerisms), Cut Out (genetically modified fidget-hop), Mr. Lizard (made from a sample patch based on the contours of Noel Edmonds' mullet!) and Format.K (tonic for the anguish of a thousand ecstasy-ravaged bird-brains). A record with a beginning, middle, an end and even a nervous breakdown.
First issued November 2005. The ebullient bass warble and splintered breaks which pepper the topside work wonders in the dance, whether you're stood on the floor or grappling a microphone. Iced chords round out a big special one. Flip the script for a dismebowelled in-version, where the continuous flow of the low-end is infiltrated by merciless gabba agendas, and a shocking abrasive intent. In the end, its all just music, mostly with a big bottom end. Any trace of vocal here is obliterated almost completely, leaving the record an almost complete dancehall dub wrecker. Large.
With Disrupt's new album 'The Bass Has Left The Building' fresh out, there's no better time to revisit the tower of dub that is his debut set 'Foundation Bit', on eight track vinyl version. Probably the most talked about bass transmission of recent times, 'Foundation Bit' is one of the finest appropriations of Jamaican dub and 8 bit dancehall to be heard anywhere for many years, like what would happen if Yardie priests took a bitcore nerd under their wing and gave him free reign with the stereo. Claiming runner-up spot in The Wire's top 10 dub records of 2007, and catching the ears of many a discerning listener across all sub-centric scenes, Jan Glieichmar aka Disrupt is among the leading pioneers of modern dub, and alongside the likes of Skream, DMZ and Burial, has created his own palette of digi dub interpretation, harking back to the 80s era of reggae when producers such as Augustus "Gussie" Clarke, more reknowned for purist dub, started introducing an electronic backdrop called the Tech Riddim. Whilst dubstep has moved rapidly through various stages of development, Disrupt has stripped the dub ethic back to the bone and created an album which is rugged and raw, broken up by sci-fi samples that add a humour and philosphical angle to the material, but focused enough to work on the dancefloor, and with enough space and clarity for relaxed listening. With a slow paced skank and a filthy, uber-bassy production style that has much in common with King Tubby, Black Ark, and On-U, and a title that nods to the legendary Keith Hudson, 'Foundation Bit' is no less than a new digi dub classic for the future generation. Once inside Disrupt's rugged echo-chamber you'll find yourself immersed in a heady, narcotic cloud of smoke, moved by staggered delays, endless reverberations and a tranquilizing cluster of distant instruments and digital detritus all colluding to lull you in and freak your mind. This is music designed for complete and utter sensory intoxication, tweaked and honed for intense stupefied skanking, one of the most beautifully heavy, chemically enhanced albums you'll hear this or any other year. Low volume is not an option.
After completing a thoroughly uninspiring music technology course in Leeds, a despondent Luke Blair returned to North London with some big decisions to make. Instead, he avoided them and immersed himself in a world of daytime TV, late-night beat-making, and 24-hour existential dread. Inspired by obsessions with artists such as Can, Madlib, Theo Parrish and Autechre, thus Lukid was born, spending many a lonely night hunched over his midi keyboard, layering up wonky beats and squeezing out woozy chords. In 2007 Lukid released his astonishing debut album 'Onandon', made up of the kind of Rubik's Cube compositions that twist in a broad spectrum of elements to manipulate hip-hop founded electronics from dust-encrusted loops, lazer-tag beats and sea-sick rhythms, built with equal parts Cologne minimalist machine-click techno and the low swing of Detroit's latter-day mix of cross-pollinated hip-hop, soul and house, Lukid's mature, complex and intricately plotted instrumentals unfold with slow-burning textured detail, sometimes recalling the gravelly disposition of early DJ Shadow, yet it's his grace, sample dexterity and excess of panache that pitch this artist oceans away from the weary blunted brigade. When a producer is able to deliver an epic widescreen vision while at the same time maintaining his "A" game, that should be cause for celebration, and Lukid has been rightly feted on boards and blogs ever since the release of 'Onandon'. And now to 'Foma', a second story which introduces a darker insight into his crumbling environs, a haunting tale of deep south conversations with a Studio One foundation. In a world where artists' influences can appear paradoxical or sometimes completely unrelated, Lukid hammers the sounds of his together into a single sheet of incredibly intriguing electronic music. You won't already need to be in love with the languorous beat constructions of Madlib, Dabrye, Flying Lotus, Samiyam and their like to find yourself gently but emphatically knocked flat back by 'Foma', before being comprehensively stretched into a series of new sensual shapes.