Suzanne Kraft – Never Heated
Suzanne Kraft’s tracks often remind you of the 1980s in his native LA, evoking mallrat pop, workout pep and informercial pap: drum machines clatter cheaply and synths roll with the perpetual motion of a videogame supercar. But for his new LP, Talk from Home, he’s left the melee of Hollywood and headed for Laurel Canyon or a desert vista. The mostly beatless tracks feature dusty guitar lines, ruminative chords, and a general sense of melancholic mooching – fellow travellers might include Nite Jewel, Rhye or Junior Boys. On this exclusive first listen to Never Heated, steady electronic handclaps mark out the space for jazzy melodic improvisations that sound a little bruised but ultimately happy with their lot.
John Heckle – Wet Noises
Following a spate of top quality work as Head Front Panel, Merseyside techno producer John Heckle returns to his own name for this new 12in this week, and here’s an exclusive play of one of its tracks. Frozen Planet sees a metallic squelch get muffled by soaring minor chords – it could make for a peak-time banger, provided you’re somewhere where the walls are made of MDF and chewing gum, and the only refreshment is warm Red Stripe. The rest of the wax is equally good: Alpha Deux rides that same squelch of a melody, while Wet Noises is powered by quickstepping Chicago ghetto bass, building into an anxious acid workout, and chafed by analogue tech rather than smoothed by digital.
Thomas Brinkmann – Agent Orange
The Editions Mego label is celebrating 20 years in the game, so get the fizz out – and not just to sample its bubbles for their next release. Shepherded by Peter Rehberg, a Mego record will necessarily be adventurous, whether it’s showcasing the glitch aesthetic of Fennesz, droning noise from Stephen O’Malley and others, or outsider guitar work from Bill Orcutt or Jim O’Rourke. The label has also resurrected the mid-century experiments of the GRM studio, and spawned successful sublabels such as Spectrum Spools and Sensate Focus. There’s a crop of Europe-wide anniversary shows in the coming months, and an ongoing slate of releases, a recent highlight being this beast from Thomas Brinkmann. Rotorblade thrum is turned into a devastatingly syncopated rhythm, and its minimalism could make for a stunning palate cleanser at the start of techno set – providing you don’t mind your palate being cleansed with white spirit.
Vito Ricci – I Was Crossing a Bridge
The veneration of New York in the 1970s and 80s can be almost nauseating, but it’s simply undeniable that, for reasons too myriad to go into here, it was the perfect creative crucible. The punk/rap/disco vein has been exhaustively mined, but there are still forgotten oddities emerging from the lofts of the downtown art scene, like this new compilation of tracks by composer Vito Ricci. Their range is remarkable: I’m at That Party Right Now and Cross Court are funky, dubbed-out grooves full of rogue spirits, while Deep Felt Music and The Ship Was Sailing are new age ambient. Following rediscoveries such as the mighty I Am the Center comp, Seattle outsider K Leimer, the cosmic warrior Iasos and more, the gorgeously naive world of early US synth music is easier than ever to collapse into.
Charles Cohen – The Boy and the Snake Dance
Talking of rediscoveries, one of the most significant people to be rescued from obscurity recently is Charles Cohen, brought to the attention of new fans by Rabih Beaini (AKA Morphosis) who reissued his work in 2013. Created on old Buchla synths, the likes of Dance of the Spirit Catchers anticipated the shifting cycles of techno, and prompted some excellent live jams between the aged Cohen and the disciple Beaini. Now there’s new material on album Brother I Prove You Wrong, out this month. On The Boy and the Snake Dance, Cohen conjures more dynamism than a wealth of minimal techno producers and without using beats, with a rising arpeggio constantly stopped in its tracks. When it does break free of its tether, and bass notes swell underneath, the effect is heartstopping.
