Snap me like a rubber band! Beatrice Dillon’s much anticipated, crisp-as-the-white-winter-sun new album, yolking acoustic textures and street-level Afro and Caribbean influences into hard-edged, high-torque, magnificently UPFUL computer-tekno/grime vectors.
Confident, concise and clear of purpose, not one track oversteps the 5-minute mark and there's nary a wanton jump-cut or aggro-effect to prove how FUTURE she is: it's there at a cellular level, bub, in how its constituent sounds are processed and arranged. The overtly human instrumental inputs - the pedal steel of Pharaoh Sanders sideman Jonny Lam, Lucy Railton's cello, the voices of Laurel Halo and Senegalese griot Kadialy Kouyaté, the scuttling tablas of Kuljit Bhamra - are never allowed to unbalance things, but are wrung for maximum juice / rhythm-texture and integrated seamlessly, unshowily into Dillon's ultra-spacious, tensile electro-steppers / robotic-jabs-in-4D. For all the technical razzle-dazzle, she's content, as she's always been, to let the beats roll out - in that respect it feels like a record for ravers and DJs and actual people who like tunes, not just for boffins doing masters degrees in New Ecologies of Sound or whatever bollocks.
There are obvious links to SND and Mark Fell's Sensate Focus stuff (who knew, seven or eight years ago, how influential those dry strobing claps would turn out to be!); Gabor Lazar and Rian Treanor; Errorsmith’s Superlative Fatigue; and Dillon herself has cited DJ Plead and the rolling-thunder mbalax of Mark Ernestus’s Ndagga Rhythm Force. In the end for all the obvious thought and theory and toil that's gone into it, it all sounds remarkably natural and unforced and, in the best sense of the word, INEVITABLE. This is what polyglot, hi-lo, LDN-state-of-mind electronic music circa 2020 should sound like...glad someone’s finally actually got around to making it.
Housed in citrusy orange PVC outer - old-school PAN-style! Ships Monday.