Locked Groove Techno. Uncharacteristically expressive, a vocal babble fights through the stomp here. Seemingly inspired by UR, Berlin's Pom Pom supply only catalogue numbers with their blank sleeved vinyl, leaving the music to speak for itself, and it says 'POM POM POM'.
Delicate Garage. Dizzee's mellow side-kick steps up to deliver his dreamy flo over Jammer's unspeakably sweet production, all pleading melodies and serene echoes. This makes me want to cry [thx luka + keith]
Troubled Haus. Like dark clouds moving over the sun, it begins with an awkward melody, slow and ominous. It's hard to resist the eerie attraction like the Brothers Grimm stories, and there's some inevitable hope, a glimpse of light to see you through.
Deep House Benchmark. Motorbass are to house what Drexciya are to electro, reinventing the genre by stripping it back. It doesn't carry quite the effect it did at the time, when house was a dirty word, but the sound's still as evocative: empty discothèques and the peripherique at night, and so understated - fading out as the 808s kick.
The Diwali Riddim comes full circle, a Hindi remix of Elephant Man stealing german pop vocals.
Treacle funk monster. This track is untouchable, influencing so much of what would follow without losing it's spark. A GABBA classic.
BOOOM. Missy takes 'Crazy in Love's go-go groove down south. So filthy Beyonce seems chaste in comparison, and Westwood just adds to the raw ripped flava. BOOOM!
Roscoe passes the mic with Clipse, Pusha T, Boo Bioni and Pharell. Stripped down to a backspin they keep it simple, giving the feel of an end-of-the-reel improv.
Drone haus. Back in 98 Wolfgang Voigt was already drawing out the darker strains of house. Gnawing melodies and krautrock drones open a strange world unrelated to the clubs and citys where 4/4 grew.
Latino pop. Tangled up in a Dee-lite sample the chart chat is sassy and sharp, it's giddy pop with a dancehall bounce.
Electro Pop. One foot firmly in the 80s Richard X gives the current charts another kick up the ass. Hotter than ever, he keeps Kelis to a sultry smoulder, breathing a s3xy ache into the blank retro groove.
Electro-angst. A year after the fact LCD demand our attention, again. Just as jaded and strung out, only a little more pained this time.
Bootleg Shock. Andrew Broder aka Fog puts a new spin on mash-ups and appropriation, instead of sharpening a-la-Kid606 Broder goes the other way taking it off his hard-drive and jamming along with.... instruments!
NYC 79 all over again. Symphonic swirls and cowbells tempt an odd crew together on the dancefloor: Ghostface, Nate Dogg, and Freeway all bouncing to Ronson's funk bling!
Guitar composition. They meet nervously, gather themselves and advance. Potent and determined, you can only share the composer's optimism.
Roadmovie music. Lo-slung guitars, heavy with purpose, head into the horizon with a perky shuffle beat to meet the mountain top mages. An epic journey: grainy, almost dark with detail, the anti-thesis of the smooth chrome highway.
Lumpen house. Feeding my base club instincts, like shift work, line-dancing or heavy coding there's a mindless charm, a certain predictability that gets to me. Preoccupied with the new and innovative, conformity has it's appeal.
Between tracks. Overplayed and sticky with associations, but it still only asks you to pause and settle. The space for a meditative moment.
Egyptian Riddim, Vybz' beat down the competition for the most seductive version, putting a s3xy moan over it's slinky melody. You'll be hearing more from him...
The Postal Service try and do to Phil Collins what Schneider TM did to the Smiths, well maybe.. (thanks matt)
Ghetto Rambling. MF Doom skips down the sunny side of the street with a delirious organ burble. Notice how the oxygen starvation only hits home in the last minute.
Primal Funk. Bustling and jamming between the atomic bass and cowbells, Liquid's percussion flow still inspires.
Disorientating Sounds. Strange and exotic like this hot weather, a furious loop of bleeps and spasms.
Altanta calls. Dre gets it all out over a cooing chorus, hand claps and a deft sprinkle of melody.
Peaches gets her lo-freq kicks out on the open road.
Hybrid. This jangly powersurge blazes briefly and is gone, leaving scorched air and crashed electronics.
Breathless Beats and Bling. Jemini and Cee Lo skid around on DM's cartoon wheels, tearing up New York. Watch out for his Richard X collaboration, DM's in the zone....
Berlin House. A blinking melody, a furtive beat, Sasha Funke marks his return with a track of pained bliss.
Neptunes return to their muse. Kelis slips through so any faces: pleading, demanding, mechanical, bringing her trademark mix of tease and unease.
Nagging ragga over a galloping break, broken and tangled, it's a mess, a fascinating car-wreck of a track. They won't be playing this at carnival.
Novelty grime. Is this Pitman-esque track the garage/country crossover we've been waiting for? er.. no [thx jess]
A little shoegaze epic from the new saloon album.
It had to happen. The Brixton boys drag Dizzee through their 'melting-pot' carnival. Unphased, he takes it in his stride.
Can't resist this storming opener, sounds like Aphrodite and Richard X back to back at The Loft.
Sinister Grime. The production on this wouldn't sound out of place on a computor game circa 91 (end of level baddy stage), or as a ringtone of course. Apologys for the bitrate.
Bewitching dancefloor anthem. Avant-garde pioneer Arthur Russell turned his hand to disco and delivered a quirky classic, out-of-step with other records of the time, it outlasts all of them.
Android Soul. Ricardo's pattering liquid percussion and drowsy chords map a robot's uneven sleep.
Faux Euro-disco. The pop-savvy Sparks bring Moroder on board to drive their epic paean to disco rapture. From the sublime motornik overture to hi-nrg dancefloor action without cracking a smile. Lead the way guys...
Several months after the fact I'm still a fool for it's seedy grind and sleazy tweaks.
Perky Italio Disco. Greater than the sum of it's parts: daft pop hooks over a staunch 4/4, simmering eroticism and a candyshop chorus. Shamelessly superficial, it revels in it's artificiality, the perfect fix for end-of-summer blues. [thx piers]
"The Dude is back..." Jay-Z marks his, and our, return with one for the ladies, generally bigging himself up and barking sweet nothings while the Neptunes coo and tinkle in the shadows.
jack to the future! Hakan reproccesses the sound of chicago..
Sweet Anguish. Matching a giddy jangle with the late Billy MacKenzie's awkward histrionics the Associates turn out the track every teenager should hear.
Fresh Grime...... something of the night. Check Tufluv
for a description.
Lo-Fi flashback, WHY? and The FOG build a wall of words then float around it.
Dirty House. Optimo's Twitch
teases us with a remix from the 80s, spacing out it's sturdy thump and lo-fi simmer before it slinks away like someone that's too cool to hang around.
Oldschool Piano, this anthem is enjoying a revival after being re-issued last year. Hearing Nena, echoing like a ghost over the balearic plonk, I melt and wipe a tear from my eye while the piano tugs aways.
Electronic Body Music. These angry Belgians loose an army of berzerk electro riffs, a storm of jammed hardware fighting not to lose control; this live recording brings back the spontanious thrill.
Frivolous Italio pop, pure candyfloss, white-sugar and you know it's not good for you. Ignore the daft 80s pick and mix production, it's the dizzy chorus and the staunch arpeggios that have me reeling, these alone demand a remix, just beef up the bass and tone down the effects for a dancefloor update.... now please.
Dictated from phone coversation - "er... ok.. er... it's such a nothing-y tune, I completely passed on it when I first played the album through" Me too, wrote it off as another neptune..zzz track I didn't need to listen to.
Frantic art-rock from scotland in the 80's, comments?
Explosive non-electro. A two pronged attack of Maurice Fulton's clattering steel ripples and Mu's semi-automatic delivery, it blasts out a bewildering space.
Unstoppable 'ardcore from 92. The legendary Acen Razvi
[note: apparently not acen, but can anyone tell the difference?] hits the alarm bell: lights flash, klaxons scream and everyone runs for cover; splicing jajoukas with a rhythm battery; hyping it up with slippery acid, 80s samples, techno sirens, but reining it back to let us know he's still in control. ... .. and now go read more about this genre from Jess @ technicolor
Subtle as powertools, but an inspired mix nonetheless. The divas of the apocalypse scream themselves to abstraction but meet their match with the tech-chomp of Alan Braxe's Vertigo.