Playground magazine

Hello. This is a new PlayGround column about EPs, that is, about records that are released (mainly on vinyl, but also on digital, and sometimes on CD, cassette or more extravagant formats) but become snowed under by the avalanche of new titles reaching the stores week after week. There's so much, a man just has to do some filtering, there's no other option. Of course, regular readers will say, and with reason, that I shouldn't be a drama queen about it, as we publish EP reviews on a daily basis. Well, yes, but even so, many titles are left out every day, for lack of space and time. Therefore, because we feel that the EP should be treated with motherly love, here are ten extra shots of recent, daring, quality electronic music for your record shelves or hard drive.

As well as being a new column, it's also irregular, in the sense that it's not bound to any schedule. It will be written when there's material to comment on, more or less every two weeks, in order not to miss a trick when it comes to the tiny (but important in the long term) movements in the deep underground. So if you want EPs, take these brothers and sisters, may they serve you well.

Jamie Roberts had a busy 2011, with five singles released under his name (from the electroid “Bohla EP” on R&S to the very toxic “Getting Me Down”, with the acid trip of “What You Do With What You Have” in between), and we were already starting to miss him in 2012. It's a good thing Mary Ann Hobbs took him out of his silence and guided him to Sónar, coinciding with the release of “Long Distance Open Water Worker”, another techno assault that will leave you flabbergasted because of a) the brutality with which Blawan unleashes the beats and then pisses streams of 303 all over them (“6 To 6 Lick” even adds a bit of blood to the brew), a reason to call him Dave Clake's legal heir, and b) the dirtiness of the sound, all filthy, opaque and meant to cloud your ears (“Grafter Gets A Home” is like torture with electrodes, and “Breathe Them Knees In” is like a hard and blunt object up the derrière). I don't want him in my neighbourhood, but he's welcome on my turntables.

Speaking of unwanted people in the neighbourhood, Alistair Wells is another one: judging from his sound, he must be the kind of guy who stores handsaws and jerry-cans of industrial solvent in his basement, and a couple of rolls of plastic, just in case. And to think there was a time when Perc Trax was a progressive house label, following in the footsteps of Border Community (their second title was Avus' “Fancy Arse”, with a tremendous acid remix by James Holden). That has changed. Now, Perc Trax is releasing rusty, dog-faced techno, defined by two essential records: the recent one by Forward Strategy Group, “Labour Division”, and “Wicker & Steel” by Perc himself. “A New Brutality” is a kind of epilogue, formed by dry and icy kick drums, like from a frozen Sahara desert. “A New Brutality” (rather self-explanatory a title) rubs up against gabber, “Cash 4 Gold” is a counterpoint of stainless steel beats alongside atonal dissonance, and “Boy” is a trepanation the Lord of Bad Vibes, Regis, would kill for. “Before I Go”, to finish the job, annihilates the beat and stays behind with just some dramatic, digitally processed guitars and noises, like footsteps in the gravel: something funny is going on inside this man's head.

Save the odd tune here and there, mostly on split efforts with friends like Los Updates and Jacek Sienkiewicz (not counting, of course the occasional remix and non-dance projects, such as the ambient re-creation of the catalogue of jazz label ECM on “Re: ECM”, alongside Max Loderbauer), it turns out “Any Ideas” is the first (dance) vinyl by the Chilean since the hazy days of “Enfants” (Sei Es Drum, 2008). It's also a prelude (not advance track) to his new album, “Dependent And Happy”, the follow-up to “Vasco” (Perlon, 2008). Four years is a long time, but things don't seem to have changed all that much: long tracks –“Any Ideas” and “Emilio (2nd Minimooonstar)” reach the 13 and 14-minute mark) that evolve with Villalobos' trademark dizzying production, like a floating house jam sprinkled with random sounds whirling during the moments of silence. A howl, a note on the run, a sigh, an old lady's voice and electro-acoustic fragments; his formula is inimitable and mature, even though he doesn't surprise us anymore like in the days of “Alcachofa” and “Achso EP”.

Sampling Gregorian chants in house music is as old as the first Enigma record from 1990, or the remixes released shortly after that, of the Benedict nun Hildegard Von Bingen. It's always been something a bit cheesy, though sympathetic. The sympathy is there on “Assis”, a wrapping deep-house track, almost Balearic, even though that's an ugly word: reminiscent of the happy days of early 90s European house, in the tradition of 808 State. What's not there is the cheese. The Barcelona duo are looking for their own sound and are close to finding it in their devotion to analogue equipment (which gives the music warmth and an organic quality), and in their non-dogmatic tribute to the music of the golden age: cosmic techno, flashes of acid, organic percussion, even a whiff of idyllic disco. “Lamento Castellano” has all the ingredients of their absolutely free house and “Danza” finds that moment of carefree lightness at which techno goes flying. But the gem on Aster's single is Ital's eight-minute remix of that same “Danza”, with a fuller, fatter, and more epic sound, reminiscent of early The Black Dog, or Stasis. Mark this one for when we have to talk about the 90s revival; it's just around the corner.

The title of the new EP by Submerse (Robert James Orme, who released several singles on Fortified Audio and Project:Mooncircle) sounds revealing: “They Always Come Back”. If he's referring to the golden age of electronic music, then yes: it's coming back, little by little. The resurrection of the Apollo label, which we spoke about in the review of the Synkro single, is a symptom to keep in mind. The ambient sub-label of R&S Records has been reactivated as if nothing has happened, as if 15 years hasn't gone by since its heyday; every new title is a reason to dust off the old Sin Electric, David Morley and Biosphere records to set it down next to them. Of the three most recent ones, the winner is the one by Jack Dixon, a kind of calmer version of George Fitzerald, or a Joy O without all the house stuff. It radiates positivism in its four pieces of oneiric psychedelia, as if Scuba had recorded for the old Internal label. Which doesn't mean we can discard Gacha Bakradze's debut (the two cuts on “Remember” are good downtempo, drenched in amniotic fluid), nor the imaginary meeting of EZ Rollers and Hudson Mohawke conjured up by Submerse in his breaks symphony.