Livity Sound - Livity Sound

Label: Livity Sound

It’s not easy for a label to gain prominence in today’s saturated market, particularly when a new imprint seems to spring up every fortnight. Bristol’s Livity Sound stands as a masterful example in how to run things: a small group of artists (the ouput seems restricted to the three label-heads) who offer different slants on a brave, singular sound – if the music’s good enough, that’s all you need. Yet the Livity crew go one further: the trio are the brightest bastion of a ‘local scene’ in the UK, and over the last few years they’ve been bringing their town’s soundsystem tradition blazing into the future over a series of disarmingly consistent, club-tooled singles.

The three brains behind the operation are Bristol veteran Pev, rising star Kowton and relative newcomer Asusu, and together these players have worked to re-set the bass-wise meditations of early DMZ in taut techno moulds, resulting in what is unanimously some of the most vital dance music currently being produced. For the label’s first collaborative album the Livity Crew’s limited editions are compiled over nearly two hours of breathtaking sound, making for one of the year’s most essential releases.

As Kowton once stated in interview, there’s nothing superfluous about the Livity sound. The tracks are largely exercises in rhythm, purpose-built for the dancefloor, yet the most surprising aspect of the Livity Sound LP is just how well it works as an album. Thoughtfully sequenced (the release’s two discs are bookended by the label’s first release, alternate takes on the same track by Kowton and Pev), these percussive workouts turn hypnotic in the home, toying with the idea of function and allowing their intricacies and subtleties space to unfurl and breathe. While for many compilations the sudden availability of high-quality mp3s is the reason for purchase, here it’s just the icing on the cake: this is a work that deserves to be heard as a whole as well as being pulled apart for mixes.

Album Clips

The Livity Sound LP appears like a distant transmission; the group’s sound so fully formed, the individual practitioners so united in their approach. This breeds a sense of otherness which is only strengthened by the glyphs on the cover (which in fact landed Pev in some hot water recently), while evocative track titles such as Remnants, Erosions or End Point call to mind the deterioration of powerful civilisations. This decline is translated musically to the shards of grime, jungle and dubstep which course across the release, gifted new life by rugged techno exoskeletons, transposed to powerful alien territory. In keeping with both the label’s ominous mystique and the fall of British soundsystem tradition, a deep dread occupies some of the release’s most impressive cuts, from the swampy menace of Vapours to the systems breakdown of new cut Surge.

The package, and by extension the label, stand out for the unity of these artists’ visions, yet within the Livity sound each of the trio has a markedly distinct approach. Pev, reliable frontrunner of the UK scene for many a year, trades in tricky percussive mutations, whether going for the jugular on anthemic Kowton collab Raw Code or mesmerising the listener with the ever-mutating strains of Saltwater and Aztec Chant. Later his tracks hit a sustained high note on the second disc’s latter half, End Point’s dystopic scifi terrain proving one standout moment amongst many. Kowton wears grime influences boldly on his sleeve, adorning More Games’ rough drum workout with venomous strings, and taking a muscular approach on the utilitarian Jam 01. His approach may be the most confrontational, but Kowton’s versatility is evident from the off: on his surprisingly spacious mix of Beneath Radar a decayed string sample is stretched out with palpable yearning before an anxious drum pattern batters its way into the mix. Well-represented is the relatively unknown Asusu, whose distinctive application of the Livity sound to 4/4 techno provides many of the release’s standout moments. The force of Velez relies on its stark nature, while the insectoid ambience of penultimate track Too Much Time Has Passed makes for a darkly pensive final sequence.

The Livity Sound crew are masters of percussion, and as a result when they let a melody loose it really counts. Those grime strings of More Games prove an early highlight but there are more surprise moments of colour: the soft insistence of the synthwork on Asusu’s Rendering makes for a tasteful moment of polish poised against Livity’s otherwise raw sounds, while the jangling chords which interrupt Livity’s maniacally sinuous bassline make for – if forced to pick one – the LP’s most memorable moment.

Livity Sound’s output to date has been incredibly impressive, but when packaged together it’s enchanting and utterly consuming. The unerring consistency of the tracks – there’s barely a single dud to be found in 18 songs of six-plus minutes – stands as testament to the coherent vision and staggering talent of these three producers. With the inclusion of some forthcoming releases which are just as promising, this is more than a victory lap for the collective, it’s a mission statement. In the dance realm, there’s very little that’s more exciting than hearing a group of artists at the top of their game, thinking as one, and Livity Sound is most likely the best example of this that you’ll hear all year.

9/10

DjRum – Seven Lies

Label: 2nd Drop

In a sense, all music is sound collage. Musicians layer discrete instruments or synths to turn disassociated fragments into a coherent whole. Unfortunately in the dance world this transformative process frequently falls back on formula; with innumerable electronic tracks floating around on the web harbouring uninventive compositions forced into identical structures. Since he stepped onto the scene a couple of years back, DjRum has done it differently.

Felix Manuel first stepped into view with a couple of low-key (but certainly worthwhile) releases that toyed with dark atmospheres and dubbed-out effects.  On 2011’s superb Mountains EP a unique talent was announced; four crackling club constructions were filled by gorgeous vocal and instrumental samples, all underpinned by dusty beat patterns and low-end to spare. Already an interest in longer forms could be seen; such as in the combined 14-minute stretch of Mountains or the extended nocturnal discursions of his Watermark 12”. Here was an artist exploring laterally, unburdened by the structural formulas that relegate so much dance music to homogeneity. Now he returns to his stable at the reliable 2nd Drop imprint to drop the label’s first long-player, returning to his sample-heavy approach with a new warmth perfectly suited to the album format.

Como Los Cerdos / DAM / Arcana (Do I Need You) / Obsession / Lies / Honey / Anchors / Thankyou

Manuel’s approach to layers and samples is handled with a rare artisanal quality, each collection of found-sounds and machine music thoughtfully shaped into coherent songs that shift and mutate before your ears. Although his music seems to run to some unfathomable dream logic, his debut album, Seven Lies, never comes across as anything other than an artistic whole. A quick glance at the gorgeous cover art should assure the listener that this is a complete work, put together with delicacy, love, and more than a little grit; and all this just so happens to result in one of the most intoxicatingly atmospheric albums you’re likely to hear all year.

The individual quality to Manuel’s sounds are a direct result of his organic approach to structure and sampling. Opener Obsession is a perfect example; where a typical field of syncopated beats and airy synth work plays host to delicate wind and string samples which add a genuinely emotive strain to the sound. The following two tracks, Como Los Cerdos and the magnificent DAM continue to lope along with hip hop swagger, with head-nodding grooves drawing melodic influence from a maze of musical influences; obvious touchstones like garage, jazz and hip hop nestling against dub, opera and old movie samples. Manuel’s attention to structure is particular evident on the latter, DAM’s final minutes introducing swooping strings and ghosts of crackling grime bars that prove a fitting close.

A trio of powerful tracks follow that delve deeper and darker, most impressively on the constantly evolving garage stepper Arcana (Do I Need You). Here percussive accents, notably textured drum rolls and compressed claps, are accompanied by an increasingly heavy low-end, before Manuel allows the track to unspool beautifully in its final movement, the fractured re-emergence of the refrain showing his deft skill at processing vocals. Again, it’s the structure of these disparate elements which is so impressive; tracks like Lies work because of their contrast. Here an exercise in dub physics is played out, balancing Shadowbox’s fragile vocals with a nakedly beautiful harp line with generous bass weight and spare 2step mechanics. The album offers many such moments, where the listener may end up wondering just how Manuel conceived of piecing such different sounds together to endlessly imaginative ends.

Yet it is just over halfway through the album that a track arrives which is undoubtedly the culmination of DjRum’s work to date. Honey takes these soft / hard, light / dark binaries to their logical extreme, as a soulful vocal, ‘he’s a sinner’, is put through an electronic blender to startling effect. This is supplemented by cavernous bass stutters, mechanical clanking and serrated bass stabs which act as an unsettling counterpoint to the sweetened instrumental samples. Not once across the album does Manuel let the quality slip either; his attention to contrast, detail and space is played out across a variety of forms, which continue through Arcana’s cold, dubbed-out coda and moody penultimate cut Anchors.

By the close of Seven Lies, DjRum has taken the listener on a journey through his influences, in turns fragmented and coherent, powerful and beautiful, warm and brooding. It is precisely because of these contrasts that he is able to evoke atmospheres of such power: each song constructs a musical space of shifting dimensions that the listener is invited to inhabit, rather than a simple layering of separate elements. The ragged DnB assault of Thankyou proves the perfect closer, encapsulating all of Seven Lies’ strengths: tough and delicate, detailed with immaculate precision, a ninth slice of sonic engineering, never less than dazzling. Here is an album by an artist who plays only by his own rules, and the infinitesimal details of each soundscape demand to be played again and again. Yet precisely because of Manuel’s prescient ability to augment his atmosphere with organic samples, you’ll never completely unlock this album’s magical secrets.

9/10

Arkist – Never Forgotten

Label: Halocyan

Although Bristolian producer Arkist built quite a name for himself with the fizzing warmth of his 140bpm rollers, it’s been a couple of years since he’s released any standout material. The producer's best tracks have always tied authentic dance chops to likeable pop sensibilities, and now he’s taken to LA-based imprint Halocyan for his best release in years, bringing along a who’s-who of Bristol’s scene for the ride.

All of these tunes play with the skipping formula of garage, making each original cut a taut and propulsive affair. But Arkist has never been one to get too sombre, and on A-side Addict, a collaboration with Appleblim, a series of upbeat descending house chords cut a stark line through the syncopated percussion and boogie basslines. It’s a warm and effective opener, but the best this EP has to offer is nestled on the B-side. 

23 Summers

Arkist first comes up gold with 23 Summers, which could be seen as a follow-up to the producer’s classic Fill Your Coffee. It’s a big, generous helping of colourful synthwork, intoxicating vocal chops and huge bass bounces, guaranteed to bring out smiles in the crowd. These key elements are set in an intricate - but never dense - collage which pays out as much as it builds anticipation, thanks to the bubbling melody and the lush detail of the arrangement. For his final original piece, Iron Oxide, Arkist goes deeper, calling out to both breakbeat and his dubstep roots with a darkened stepper where only the echoes of that bright synthwork remains among the menacing bass throbs.

Remix duties are offered to another pair of Bristolians, the first being rising star Komon, who gives a housey rework of Addict. It’s an efficient track that adds a big 4/4 stomp and straightens out the synth work in the process, but it feels like it lacks the original’s flighty charm in the process. Dependable analog-fiend October offers a more impressive remix of 23 Summers, the original’s dayglo appeal swapped for a jackin’ mashup of acid stabs, ghostly vocal loops and an industrial-sized kick. It’s a healthy-sized package from Arkist with a few real standouts, hinting that the producer’s best work may still be ahead of him.

7/10

Martyn – Newspeak EP

Label: Dolly

Martyn, it’s been too long. The Dutch producer wowed us in 2011 with his excellent Ghost People LP, but his list of accomplishments stretches back much further, including a series of dubstep-defying singles that defined the early output of storied imprints such as Hessle and Applepips, another stellar album, one of the best Fabric mixes to date, without even mentioning his excellent job as labelhead of the on-trend 3024 imprint. Phew. But since that second album, we’ve had next to nothing, just a single original track on Brainfeeder to tide us over. Not even a phone call.

Newspeak

Well, never fear, because the big man is back in 2013 with a fantastic new EP on Steffi’s Dolly imprint, which features some of the Dutchman’s best material to date. Better still, he’s taken this opportunity to offer three very different tracks that meld the myriad influences that he’s had time to take in over the years, from his early dubstep experimentalism to the recent move to housier territories that border on techno. The entire A-side is occupied by the glistening Oceania, a straight-up reference back to his early output. It’s an exquisitely detailed miasma of shimmering chords, deep sub-bass frequencies and expertly-applied breakbeats, taking the listener on a blissed-out journey whose scifi trappings signal an end only too soon.

On the B-side Martyn comes in ruder style with low-slung title track Newspeak, where Detroit synths bubble over a bed of crisp claps, acid licks and searing strings. It’s breathless stuff, each sound treated to shine out of the unstoppable groove. Nor is the listener let down with George Orwell-referencing closer What Is Room 101, where Martyn serves up a deeper, slower groove with superb synthwork that caresses and soars over the jacking rhythm. He may have been gone for too long, but when a producer comes back with an EP where every single tune is a highlight in its own right, the only appropriate response is to get up and dance.

8.5/10

Burial – Truant / Rough Sleeper

Label: Hyperdub

In today’s culture of increasingly disposable electronic music, it can sometimes feel as if we’re losing track of the singular role of the artist. If a producer puts out one bad track or makes a PR faux-pas it can turn legions of fans against him, while the glut of freely available music on the internet makes it all too easy to switch allegiances. Burial is one of the few remaining artists who inspire true dedication: fans are willing to trust his vision, and to wait patiently as he expands and explores his unique sound. The flipside of this is that William Bevan must bear the heavy responsibility of expectation, and on the eve of his second release this year, the trigger-happy judges of the internet waited with baited breath to either exalt the producer’s brilliance or else to decry his loss of artistic vision.

The truth of the matter lies somewhere in the middle ground, a space rarely occupied by those intimately acquainted with Burial. Having exceeded even the highest expectations with the superb Kindred EP, the follow-up isn’t really better or worse. It’s different, and how much the listener likes it is inevitably going to come down to individual taste. This single marks the return of Kindred’s longer, more experimental pieces, particularly picking up on the career-defining Ashtray Wasp, a closer that enthralled the harshest critics with its adventurous rhythms and convention-defying structure. These two new pieces, notching up 25 minutes of runtime between them, feel more like loosely connected musical suites than tracks; impressionistic collages of sketches and ideas. This sense of adventure ultimately proves a blessing and a curse. While these are some of Burial’s most cinematic pieces, taking the listener on a powerful journey, it could also be argued that the meandering structures result in a critical loss of momentum that detracts from the release as a whole.

Truant

Although many elements of the core Burial sound are still present, Truant b/w Rough Sleeper marks a few changes in the producer’s style. These pieces take a more involved interest in the lower frequencies, with rumbling sub-bass often leading the way for those familiar shuffling woodblock beats and frayed ghost voices. This release also takes a step towards the lo-fi; the cannibalizing static of the Kindred EP makes a noticeable return, it often seems as if these sounds are fighting to make themselves heard. Luckily, all these peripheral atmospherics are deployed with a deft confidence that means that each rolled snare and bluster of static wind is perfectly placed and balanced.

Each track takes the listener through several distinct phases, and this compositional style is largely successful. After an example of Burial’s vocal sampling at its most lucid and emotive, Truant leads with synths and atmospherics that emerge and recede over an impressively textured shuffling beat. These restrained sounds prefigure the dramatic midway switch, where epic synths (epic, that is, by Burial’s standard; these sounds still suit the melancholic monochrome) provide a lifting-off point for the listener, before a deeper deconstruction, reminiscent of Actress’ most devastating sketches, takes the stage for the song’s final minutes. It’s a piece with impressive moments but one could contend the dramatic stop-start structure causes a loss of momentum, and it feels at some points like Truant gets lost along the way.

The same is not true of B-side Rough Sleeper, where the digressive structure proves essential to the track’s power. Opening onto a relatively lush soundfield, a minimal 2step beat keeps time under echoing fragments of soulful vocals. This track works better because those dramatic moments are more emotive, the surprises are more inspired (just listen to that brilliant saxophone that harks back to the genre’s roots). The second half marks a real departure for Burial; an ascending major chord melody and pretty chimes are the closest that Burial’s city-at-night soundtracks have ever got to direct sunlight. Rough Sleeper is the more emotive of the pair, and feels more organically structured. Although Truant’s disconcerting drop-outs lead to an impressive claustrophobia, the track just won’t leave the same impression as the B-side.

Rough Sleeper

When most fans expect dramatic innovation between LP releases, it is pertinent to question whether Burial’s continued interest in grainy 2step and floating vocals is perhaps a little safe at this point. It’s an important question to ask, but it’s unlikely anyone will ask Burial to change on the basis of this release. His music has always had a rare power to create deep personal resonances for people from many walks of life. There’s a universality in the broken loneliness of his music that means his style is far from tired, especially when one considers the ways he continues to challenge conventional musical structure.

If you can’t fault him for zealously guarding his sonic palette, perhaps one criticism that could be levelled at this release is that it doesn’t always feel coherent. There are definite advantages to the length of these tracks; the listener can anticipate favourite sections, because there is an awful lot to love here, while the stop-start dynamic gives a sense of a contingent musical universe that we, as listeners, are merely dipping in and out of. On top of that, the sudden drop-outs are disorientating: in Truant with each silence the listener is repositioned with respect to the sound, and is forced to locate themselves, to actively process the music rather than just passively listening. But at the same time, both of these tracks are seriously lacking in the kinetic momentum of Burial’s earlier work, and the meandering nature of the sounds, particularly in Truant, sometimes makes it feel like the track is jumping from place to place without ever really hitting home.

Among the threatening static that cannibalises the close of Truant is a sample from one of Burial’s earliest releases, Wounder. It’s an interesting move that makes you look back and think about how far Burial has come as an artist, from a Hyperdub upstart to one of the most universally acclaimed musicians of the decade. The interest in musical deconstruction started to become apparent in the aggressive vinyl hiss of the Kindred EP, but with this sample it is taken to the next level; a deconstruction of Burial’s musical past. Each consecutive release has ventured further from the dancefloor that birthed his style, but it feels that with this release Burial has taken a noticeable step towards the cerebral. There is very little for the dancefloor here. Yet these tracks are fascinating in their defiance of genre convention, and impressively supply moments of breakthtaking intimacy juxtaposed with a guttural, all-consuming static. These might not be the best single tracks that Burial has ever created (although Rough Sleeper makes a serious claim for the top five), but as long as he stays his course, experimenting both inside his music and without, he’s unlikely to lose his ardent and well-deserved fanbase. It’s gratifying to know that there are still adventurers out there, and if one can stay on top of his game for almost a decade, mining the past while looking to the future, and still produce beautiful music in the process, it’s hard to feel anything but a sense of pure wonder.

8.5/10