...Inventing a genre as a dirty protest against the tide of civilisation that once swept dance was one thing, but it was impossible to strip it of all groove and melody forever....
WHERE NOW, THEN, FOR THE FORCES OF drill’n’bass? Inventing a genre as a dirty protest against the tide of civilisation that once swept dance was one thing, but it was impossible to strip it of all groove and melody forever. Thus the unscheduled outbreak of tunefulness in electronica’s lefter-than-left-field of late. Witness albums like Himuro‘s ‘Nichiyobi’ and ‘Open Transport’ by MDK. Or this, the debut album from suburban Brummie Steve Taylor, blessed with maverick disobedience and bewitching tunefulness in equally generous measure.
Where else in today’s pop world, for instance, will you find someone willing to set Prince‘s ‘Sexy MF’ to terrifying sub-bass, insert dodgy lyrical interjections like “22 incisions in a crate of lard” and still make it catchier than Billie. Someone happy to produce the eminently danceable electro rampage of ‘Rock Fakie’ one minute and the frisky Aphex-meets-Stereolab saunter of the title track the next.
Admittedly, ‘Schis-A-Ning’ and ‘Griitch’ sound like R2-D2 falling down a mine shaft, but they’re far outweighed by the drill communication elsewhere. Looks like drill’n’bass just grew up. Or should that be turned the corner?