Romare - Projections

Label: Ninja Tune

What do we tend to expect from a debut electronic LP? With a few solid EPs under his or her belt, most producers head in one of two directions for their first album: they refine their existing sound or they go for something completely different. British producer Romare chooses the former approach to follow two sterling EPs on Black Acre which proved challenging while overflowing with groove and invention.

On Projections, he burnishes his sample collages to a sheen, casting a sharp eye at the history of American music by recomposing its features. It’s a warm, generous collection of tracks, overflowing with the spirit of funk, soul and jazz, shot through with an eye-popping cast of samples. And yet, after it’s all over, it feels like there’s something missing. Romare’s first EPs were so creative, so searching in theme, sound and style, that hearing him do more of what he does best is a disappointment in a way. The novelty of his approach has worn off as his craft has improved, so what we’re left with is an album that impresses and caresses, but doesn’t quite excite.

Yet that very mastery of craft is still something to behold. Romare has a way in particular with structure, eliciting drama in his tracks by leaving tracks up to past the halfway point before they gloriously erupt, such as Work Song’s explosion from soupy synthwork to a swung groove and clipped piano samples like excerpts from a lost saloon jam. Motherless Child at first doesn’t convince with a lounge-y melody that sounds like it belongs on the shopping channel, but the seedy trumpet that dominates the track’s latter half is a joyous reward, as Romare boldly changes the spirit of the original.

As well as his fine attention to build and release, Romare’s use of samples is generous and far-reaching, such as on highlight Roots, where a bassline like a distilment of his earlier Down The Line (It Takes A Number) builds with patience, slowly accruing dusty samples til one can only marvel at the complexity of the arrangement, at how every tiny sample plays such an integral part of the whole.

Later The Drifter enchants instantly with its strutting bassline, while Rainbow is a confident dancefloor number, all smooth guitar licks and a lush funk bassline. It’s euphoric without ever beating you over the head with its emotional direction. Yet by this point in the album, perhaps some head-beating would be appreciated. These tracks are so classy and polished that over repeated listens they feel somewhat lacking in grit, even unadventurous compared with his earlier work.

Later tracks suffer from the success of what came before, Prison Blues is a syrup-thick jazzy number that has personality but loses its impact because it feels like we’ve heard it before, while meandering closer La Petite Mort’s slow-mo jazz keys and tidy vocal feel directionless over the track’s indulgent 7 minute length. When Romare can craft a superb tune like the melancholy Jimmy’s Lament in only three minutes, we’re left to wonder why he dedicated so much time to such an aimless parting shot.

Projections is tough to judge because what you get out of it as a listener really depends on what you were expecting (although admittedly all music is prey to the warping powers of expectation). If you’re looking for something bold and fresh in this spirit of Romare’s first EPs, it might be worth skipping over this one. Yet if you loved that first sound and want to hear more like it, Projections is a lovely gem, seducing with a distinctive voice and lavish arrangements.

7/10

Machinedrum - Vapor City

Label: Ninja Tune

If Travis Stewart is one thing, he’s prolific. A veteran of the New York and Berlin scenes, Stewart’s stream of strong releases is matched only by his collaborative material, both with Jimmy Edgar as JETS and with Braille as Sepalcure. Yet even considering his reputation as a restlessly talented producer, Stewart’s career remains an anomaly: how many artists are capable of both producing for a mainstream rapper and securing a hallowed 5/5 from dance authority Resident Advisor? The album in question, 2011’s superb Room(s) on Planet Mu, hints at the explanation. Here Stewart cemented his trademark sounds – urgent, jukey percussion and colourful melodies – in a work which fused countless styles into a dazzling hybrid. Here was a producer obviously forward-thinking but also impressively versatile, leaving a pair of enormous shoes to fill for follow-up LP Vapor City.

The album in question is a concept piece of sorts, each track a soundtrack to neighbourhoods of a city that Stewart frequently visits in his dreams. It bears many of the traits of Room(s), from the still-fresh fusion of juke and jungle to the blissed-out melodies which adroitly counterpoint the frantic rhythms. Obviously these sounds can’t be as captivating second time around, but Stewart does a good job of it, offering a worthy successor which perhaps only suffers from a narrowed focus compared to its predecessor.

Gunshotta

As on the memorable She Died There, Vapor City opens with a compelling sense of desolation in the form of Gunshotta’s frosty junglism. Here throaty bass growls beneath roiling breaks, later adorned by a spitfire ragga vocal loop which brings the dread inna 90’s style. From here on out it’s largely a smoother journey, as Stewart offers softened breakbeats, liberally adorned with breathy vocals and emotive melodic movements. It’s an interesting approach, particularly given that the current hardcore revival tends to revel in the style’s toughness and menace, and at first proves refreshing. The technique is perfected on the heavenly Center Your Love, where delicate breaks tumble beneath sweetened guitar and lilting female vocals, before giving way to Stewart’s trademark frothing rave chords.

These softer numbers make for pretty listening, but the formula grows weary as the album progresses: the sweeter concoctions, from Infinite Us to Seesea via Don’t 1 2 Lose You, shine less brightly when placed next to their similar brethren. It’s unfortunate, because this is clearly the work of an eminently talented producer – the acrobatic vocal manipulations of Seesea are a case in point.

Eyesdontlie

The mood may get a bit lost somewhere across the album’s midsection, but Stewart re-takes the reins for Vapor City’s outstanding final suite. U Still Lie is an insant winner, where echo-chamber futurism takes form with a slow trip hop swagger, as half-heard rocker’s croons (perhaps Stewart’s own?) are slowly submerged by a glistening 80s synthline. In an album which brings tropes of dance music past so determinedly into the future, it’s a gorgeous moment of retro fervour which warrants repeated spins.

This leads straight onto the straight-up album highlight Eyesdontlie, a killer fusion which twins pitch-bent vocal loops over steel-plated snares to intoxicating effect. These two tracks, along with Gunshotta, show just how brilliant Machinedrum sounds when he lets the darkness in, and many might wish he did so a little bit more. Any tourist will find something to love in Stewart’s well-realised dreamscape, and while it might not mark a huge departure from the sound of Room(s), it proves another welcome exploration of the mind of the restless artist.  Ultimately though, while the album's lovestruck compositions are undeniably attractive, they lack the weight and memorability of those vital trips to Vapor City’s roughest neighbourhoods.

7.5/10