THE DIAPHANOIDS - LSME

I have recently been reading some Philip K. Dick. If you don’t know him, Dick was a critically acclaimed American science-fiction author who wrote some 44 novels and countless short stories before his life was sadly cut short by a fatal stroke. In his novels, Dick plays around with a polymorphous set of themes, ranging from metaphysics to theology to nihilism and everything in between, but the theme that comes through strongest is Dick’s complete disregard for what we might call reality. In ‘Ubik’, for example, he writes of a world disintegrating and regressing to earlier times; in ‘The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch’ he writes about a drug-induced stupor that renders reality and unreality completely indistinguishable; and in ‘Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said’, he tells us the story of a famous TV presenter who wakes up one morning to find that his identity has been erased and no-one recognises him despite his worldwide popularity. In all these novels and beyond, Dick plays with reality, bending it, twisting it, and concocting intoxicating parallel existences that leave you, the reader, feeling utterly disorientated as you try to work out if what you’re reading is ‘actually happening’ or just happening in the mind of the novel’s protagonist. Usually, you can’t definitively work out which it is. 

I mention all of this because this very same disorientation greeted me again when listening to The Diaphanoids new album, entitled ‘LSME’ and released on Tirk Recordings. The Diaphanoids are actually a duo, made up of Andrea Bellentani and Simon Maccari, perhaps better known as ‘Blakula!’, the name under which they have released three previous albums. The press release describes The Diaphanoids as Bellentani and Maccari’s ‘Space-Psycho Rock Project’, and in hindsight this is indeed a fairly accurate description of this album. I would probably add the prefix ‘Post’ to the word ‘Rock’, however. Pedantic terminology squabbling aside, this album beautifully combines elements of downtempo, ambient, and psychedelic post-rock, then sprinkles pretty much every drug both from the pharmacy and from the street on top. The result is something that sounds part hallucinogenic and part messianic, as soaring guitar riffs tremble over the top of soft, fuzzy, analogue sounding drum arrangements and twisted, garbled synth noises dance haphazardly between the lines. 

Yet this doesn’t mean that all the songs melt into a single pot of droning noise. Far from it. The tempos are varied, and in each different song The Diaphanoids taketh sounds away with one hand as they addeth new sounds in with the other. My favourite song on here is the bafflingly named ‘Alltheconstellationsouttherearen'tworthapinpointofliquidlightinyoureyes’, the only one without any drums. It’s a lovely piece of deftly constructed ambient music which somehow shimmers with an urgent undercurrent of energy. Then we get the epic 8 minute long ‘The Blackest Sun’, a journey through a tunnel of emotional peaks and troughs. The guitar riffs writhe and scream with emotion over the top of a ritualistic drum beat, and odd other-worldly automated sounds oscillate in and out of the foreground. Across all 482 seconds of it, it’s never boring. It holds your attention as you wonder what sort of cosmic emission that guitar is going to hurl at you next. Mechanically ordered chaos at its very best.  

The album opener ‘55^th Dimension Nervous Breakdown’, which could be title of a Dick novel, has a similar sort of pounding, unrelenting beat but at a higher tempo, while ‘You Can’t Shine If You Don’t Burn’ drags things down to a slower, gently flickering speed. Tinges of oriental flavour permeate the song, and that guitar goes from strident to stifled as it chimes out a muffled electronic plea for help. ‘How Can I Distinguish Sky From Earth If They Keep On Changing Their Place’, which could also be the title of a Dick novel, is also good, driven by a repeating but somehow not repetitive bass tone. What’s more, the penultimate ‘Our Own Private Elsewhere’ is definitely the most ‘acid’ song you’ll find here. It’s distinctly strange: I feel like if motion sickness came with an accompanying soundtrack, this would be it. It bubbles and gurgles and sloshes around noisily, and the only thing that keeps you tethered to your sanity is, again, this ritualistic throbbing beat which tugs you along. Album closer ‘These Nights Wear Three Heads Five Arms And Ten Legs’ (what is it with these guys and song titles?) is the culmination of its predecessor, complete with riffs that the mentalist guitar player Yngwie Malmsteen would surely approve of. 

Throughout the entire album this Dick-like theme of disintegrating reality persists. Have you seen the film Gravity? It’s a bit like the scenes in that where Sandra Bullock is spinning around in outer-space. It’s that sort of feeling of not knowing what is happening; what sounds are coming; what that guitar will do next; whether or not that faraway synth will accelerate towards you or continue to lurk uneasily in the acoustic shadows. Yet like when you read Dick, you emerge out of the other end not knowing exactly what’s just happened, but you feel richer for it nonetheless. Deliberately and consciously creating this sort of unreality is masterful, whether in written word or musical composition. The Diaphanoids may benefit from a quiet word from the record label about the length of their song titles, but sonically this is astounding. 

In terms of criticisms, musically I don’t really have any. This album does what it sets out to do very well. The only thing I would perhaps say is that the order of the songs is wrong. I would never have put the slow burning ‘You Can’t Shine If You Don’t Burn’ straight after the more upbeat opener, and I would probably have had the ambient piece ‘Alltheconstellations…’ as the album closer as a way of winding it down. But, I suppose, you could argue that the organisation of the tracklist adds an extra dimension to that feeling of psychedelic disorientation, somewhat akin to being turned upside down by a tidal wave just after you’ve been floating around peacefully on an inflatable lilo. 

All in all, this is an album that I rather like, and I think Philip K. Dick would too. Indeed, he once said of his novels that “I want to write about people I love, and put them into a fictional world spun out of my own mind, not the world we actually have, because the world we actually have does not meet my standards.” Such a quote, for me, perfectly sums up what I think The Diaphanoids set out to do with this album. And I think they’ve succeeded. Therefore, if you like ambient music, post-rock, downtempo, or indeed anything with psychedelic overtones, you’ll at the very least find this album an intriguing and thoughtful listen.  

Words: Matthew Scott

METRONOMY at O2 Academy, Newcastle - 20th March 2014

I always make a point of catching the support band. At the very least it helps to build anticipation for the main act and sometimes you can discover a rare gem. Support for this gig was electro-pop band Virginia Wing. Sadly, they fall into neither category. In fact, a new category should be created for worst ever support act. I don't say such things lightly; I can't play or sing so who am I to criticise? However, it irks me that this prime support slot could have been filled by a band with greater imagination, ability and conviction - I can think of many local bands who'd have been far better suited to the event and who would have benefitted greatly from the exposure. Virginia Wing had a great drummer. The rest of the band looked uninterested. The bassist must have played a maximum of 3 notes during the 6 or 7 song set. The vocalist was so flat and out of tune as to be embarrassing. Sorry, they were dreadful. 

Metronomy had a task to wake me from my Virginia Wing malaise. Thankfully the crowd had been sparse until the headliners arrived on stage and so others weren't similarly afflicted. From the outset there was a hardcore of bouncing youth front and centre, helping to create a genuine party atmosphere. Like party organisers, complete with Butlins-esque matching jackets and trousers, Metronomy ignited the majority with a set full of upbeat and cheery songs. 

The band played expertly and all of the hits were rolled out as well as a healthy dose of new album 'Love Letters.' Maybe it was me but I was still left a little cold by it all. The band are fairly static during performance (bassist Gbenga Adelekan aside) and tunes that weave a crafty delight on record can sound a little flimsy and twee live. I found myself comparing the gig to one I'd seen a week earlier when Chvrches had blown me away with a much fuller sound than I'b been expecting. This compared poorly, but again I'm aware that the implied criticism is perhaps a little unfair; you go to a Metronomy gig to see and hear Metronomy not Chvrches. Those who managed to get into the spirit of the gig seemed to enjoy it very much indeed. 

Words: Russell Poad
Phot: Daniel Robson

CHVRCHES at O2 Academy, Newcastle - 7th March 2014

The music industry has changed a lot in the modern world; it has become fast paced environment which sees new bands go from the release of their first single to massive headline tours in little under a year.  In most cases these bands have reached this peak of success so quickly due to some great single releases which force them into public ears and thus, massive chart success; but this can lead to easily skip-able album filler which doesn’t quite hold the listeners attention. 

This appeared the case with Glaswegian synth pop trio Chvrches.  Despite being described as Album of the year by many reviewers, their debut The Bones of What You Believe, released in September 2013 didn’t seem to live up to the hype created by the pre-album released singles.  What was left to be heard appeared to fall flat alongside the punchy energy of  tracks like ‘Gun’ and ‘The Mother we Share’ which for many was the soundtrack to summer 2013.  However, all scepticism of this band and their lack lustre filler material was well and truly blown away during their Newcastle O2 Academy debut; bursting into the northeast with their brand of pounding electronics and rejuvenating their lesser loved tracks. 

Kicking off the evening of booming synth pop was something a little more relaxed; perhaps a move to ease the audience into a false sense of security for what was to come, or a badly matched pairing of a solo acoustic act with a high energy electro affair. The support in question was Birdie Monds-Watson AKA Soak; this young Irish singer-songwriter also happens to be the first signing to Chvrches new label Goodbye Records. NE:MM had the pleasure of sitting down with Soak to have a chat; although the endearingly sweet charm of miss Monds-Watson which we witnessed in our interview appeared rather lost in the sea of rather uninterested electro fans which packed out the huge venue.  

Chvrches however, were far from lost! Their ability to command a somewhat acoustically subdued audience to attention made them right at home on stage as they quickly fired through some album favourites including Sink, Gun and Lies in the fifteen minutes.  Despite Lauren Mayberry’s slightly shaky vocal start, she quickly hit her stride and the trio pounded through their album with a furiousness that gave the once ‘filler-esque’ tracks a much fuller and resonating sound; elevating tracks like Tether to the level of the big hits. 

The night’s performance appeared abundant with efforts to liven up the material; this was aided greatly by an impressive lighting design which mimicked the geometric style of The Bones of What You Believe album art. This bright display was hard to ignore and at times the only thing to be seen over the packed crowd.  Alongside this effort was an interesting shuffle in the bands composition, with synth player Martin Docherty taking over the microphone to display some rather erratic dance moves whilst he restyled Under the Light.  Mulberry graciously took to the synth during this performance, showing that Chvrches may be more versatile than we think and perhaps the next album will have some changes in store.   

Chvrches redeemed themselves with their energetic performance, adding weight to their album tracks; however as band with only one album they fell into yet another familiar trap of early success. This was a particularly short show and one which had begun rather early, which to many was a disappointment. As a band that are hailed for their ability to cover tracks with style it seemed great let down that they didn’t feel the need to flesh out their encore with some well-loved covers. But perhaps this focus on the album alone will encourage fans to revisit and re-enjoy those filler tracks with a new lease of life.

Words: Dominique Daly

Photo: Daniel Robson

GREGORY PORTER at Hoochie Coochie, Newcastle - 14th March 2014

Where to begin. This gig will live long in the memory. A world class artist at his peak playing to a crowd of no more than 250 in an intimate and welcoming venue. I was standing no more than 30 feet away from a genuine star. That's not to say that I was star-struck; had this been an average performance I'd have recognised and reported it as such without fear of contradiction. But of course it wasn't. 

The band entered the stage at around 9-15pm to rapturous applause and rather than ignite them further with one of his best known hits Gregory Porter began with less familiar songs. It immediately struck me that this was a jazz band playing a jazz gig. The 'polished pop' production of the recordings was replaced with soul and authenticity that only a live performance can ever really completely capture. The first hit to be rolled out was 'Be Good' but even that seemed more raw, and all the better for it. 

On another night alto sax player Yosuke Sato would have been the star of the show with his mesmerising solo breaks but when sharing the stage with other great musicians, most notably perhaps pianist Chip Crawford and with the man himself on vocals he could not possibly have upstaged his peers. 

The band clearly revelled in playing to the relatively small audience in this cosy setting, Porter remarking that it seemed probably 'illegally full' (I'm reliably informed it was just legal). The crowd gave very vocal support and it seemed to raise the band and singer to great heights. 

On 'Liquid Spirit' Porter even treated the throng to a little 'scatting'. Gregory Porter showed he's the master of all styles when singing a solo piano accompanied version of 'Water Under Bridges'. A gorgeous rendition of 'Real Good hands' also featured as one of my personal highlights and when the call and response of '1960 What' came around both singer and audience gave and received in equal good measure. 

A first of two encores raised the roof (again) with the crowd joyfully singing along to 'Musical Genocide'. This was anything but. 

Bets are off. Gig of the year. 

Words and photo: Russell Poad

DEEP INTENTIONS - Dance-Floor Anthems From The Deep House Underground

How can you tell if an album is good, very good, or in fact excellent? Having established that one likes an album as a whole and also most of the individual tunes on it, how does one define the scale of how much one likes it? By the extent to which it makes one reflect on life’s deepest questions, (like Phaeleh’s astounding ‘Fallen Light’), or the extent to which it makes one dance around like a lunatic (like various Renegade Hardware compilations), or simply just the extent to which it is precisely produced and immaculately written? These are questions that implicitly at least concern all music reviewers. And what’s more, I think I have an answer to these conundrums. For some time now, I’ve been developing what I call the ‘Aural Wallpaper Test’. And at last it is ready for its first full outing.  

Let me explain. For some time now I’ve thought that the term ‘Aural Wallpaper’ describes a surprising majority of albums quite well. This term refers to albums that you like, but when you listen to them they end up blurring into the general atmosphere of wherever you are. These are albums that, usually, you fully intend to listen to again but end up instead just ‘having on’ in the background while you do something else. I can listen to an entire Aural Wallpaper album and not be able to describe a single feature of any single tune that is on that album. In most cases, you could sneakily switch the album to a different Aural Wallpaper one and I wouldn’t be any the wiser. I could, however, tell you that whatever it was, I liked it. This is simply because if I didn’t like I would have at some point turned it off through irritation and annoyance. 

However, on the odd occasion there are albums you listen to that you simply cannot just ‘have on’ in the background. Albums that are so shockingly good that they demand your fullest and most intricate attention at all times. I’m thinking of albums like the aforementioned ‘Fallen Light’, where you cling on to every glimmer of every sound of every tune, searching for some sort of revelatory meaning hidden beneath the drums. I physically cannot work, read, or indeed do anything except sit in quasi-messianic awe when ‘Fallen Light’ is playing. It is an album that is so staggering that, no matter how many times I listen to it, I always end up listening to every vocal and every chord and every symbol of every song.

This brings me on to the Aural Wallpaper test, which has two stages. First, establish, through a careful and thoughtful listen through like any good reviewer will do, that you like the album. Once this is done, you must secondly put this album on again when you are doing something else; reading, working, or whatever. Then you can determine if the album is merely good, very good, or indeed excellent. If the album blends into the background ambience of the room, then it is Aural Wallpaper: good, but not exciting, amazing, or excellent. If some of the tunes grab your attention and refuse to let it go, then it can be said that some of the tunes are excellent, and that the album is therefore very good, but not perfect. If you end up tossing your book to one side and listening intently to every single track, then it may be classified as excellent in itself; 10/10; a masterpiece, and other such words. In other words, an excellent album demands your attention; it does not let your mind wander onto the weather, or what you are having for tea, or what time Death in Paradise is on. A staggeringly excellent album such as ‘Fallen Light’ will even stop your mind from wandering even when a crocodile is hungrily eying up your left leg.

Having finally perfected this masterful framework, I only needed something new to test it on. And, happily, I got the opportunity to do so not long afterwards when the new ‘Deep Intentions: Dance-floor Anthems from the Deep House Underground’ CD dropped through my letterbox. Spread across 3 CDs, This is a compilation album released by Deep Intention Events, a London based club night that have become quickly renowned for their parties at The Egg, where they have booked the likes of Alexis Raphael and Leftwing & Kody in recent months. Although one always has reason to be suspicious of albums that brand themselves as ‘deep house’ and ‘underground’ (two terms that largely have little meaning these days, and can something be an ‘anthem’ and ‘underground’ at the same time?), this features some very impressive names, such as Groove Armada, Huxley, Midland, and Gorgon City, alongside a few lesser known yet emerging artists. 

In fact, and to my pleasant surprise, it’s actually some of the lesser names that catch my attention most here. The accolade of best track is probably a toss-up between Martin Ikin’s ‘Hold Dis’ and Pirupa’s more dance floor orientated ‘Party Non Stop’. I like these tunes in different ways: ‘Party Non-Stop’ features an impressive snare pattern and a series of quaint yet delightful beeps alongside a driving bassline and tidy-as-you-like 4x4 beat. There’re tribal flavours in there too, they force themselves to the fore just after the second drop, and the whole thing is put together very well. ‘Hold Dis’, on the other hand, sounds more relaxed: it is made for the dance but works perfectly when you think of it as a tune used to add a touch of energy and enterprise to a set that needs switching up a notch. I also very much like the quasi-donk flavours and wonky bassline of Hnqo and Bip’s ‘As I See’, and the slow, thunking ‘Bitches in the Project’ by Amine Edge and Dance. In fact, the more I listened to this compilation, the more I skipped over the ‘big’ names in order to get to the unknown gems scattered liberally throughout the tracklist. 

Despite this, the bigger names bring the goods too. Gorgon City and Yasmin’s ‘Real’ is delightful: wonderfully chilled; while Midland’s ‘Trace’ is as good now as when it was released on Aus Music last year. The Shadow Child remix of Dave Spoon’s ‘At Night’ was furthermore something I hadn’t come across before. On the down side though, in my opinion ‘Always Takes Me Higher’ isn’t one of Groove Armada’s crowning achievements. In truth, it’s difficult not to like the vast majority of the tunes on this album. They’re all stylish, dance-floor orientated, polished pieces of well-engineered deep house music. But I can’t help feeling that the reason that it’s hard to not like this album is because most of the tunes follow that exact same mould with minimal originality or deviation from the norm. I apologise if this seems cruelly reductionist to an assemblage of vastly talented artists, but it’s almost like there’s a set template to this collection: a vocal sample just before the drop, a throbbing lead synth, a particular BPM margin…like a tick box of attributes that make a good ‘deep house’ tune. 

In fact, I guess this is always a risk with compilation CDs: that the desire to have a compilation that holds together and speaks to a particular sound backfires and becomes a bit…samey. After the first three tunes of CD1 I was already settled in for what I knew would be a pleasant but not a riveting journey. There was never a sense of excitement or anticipation with this album, just a sense of pleasing, placid approval that barely changed at all as I listened through it. At no point did I think ‘I wonder what the next tune will sound like.’ And at many points did I think ‘What time is Death in Paradise on tonight?’

Just to reiterate then, I like this album. But it fails the Aural Wallpaper test. It blends seamlessly into the background of everyday life, a pleasant soundtrack to any pleasant day in any pleasantly normal week. It stands in stark contrast to albums that hit you over the head with a musical cane and demand your undivided attention for every second of every minute. Indeed, if that’s what you’re after, I would refer you to Akkord’s astonishingly good self-titled album on Houndstooth, or Zed Bias’s recent album ‘Boss’ on Swamp 81. ‘Deep Intentions’ is more musical feather than musical cane. As a thrill ride, it sadly misses the mark. Good, then, but not excellent.    

Words: Matthew Scott

PALOMA FAITH - A Perfect Contradiction

Paloma Faith has taken a turn in the world of music with her new album 'A Perfect Contradiction'; it brings out a funky, soul vibe I can see this album being played at a roller disco, it has a full-on 80’s feel to it, flares, jumpsuits and all included.

Being her red-headed fiery and feisty self, Paloma Faith’s album is a mixture of emotions with themes such as heart-break contrasted by Beyonce-esque strength independence. 

'Only Love Can Hurt' is a perfect example of this. The track is very emotional is quite a grand song.  It is a song sung from her heart, it’s a song suitable for fans that are dealing with a heart break and are in need for a good cry and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s.

On 'Other Woman' tears from from the previous track are replaced by resilience and girl power. It is Paloma’s way of telling you to stand up for yourself and get up out of bed and wipe away those tears, it has a real 'don't mess with me' vibe.

Remember 'Happy' by Pharrell Williams, well he has his work cut out. The song 'Trouble with My Baby' is coming to push Pharrell out the way. Paloma has found a song that will get listened to everyday, it is so catchy.

My favourite song is 'Impossible Heart', with a good melody and great lyrics it is a modern take on that 80’s funky disco sound.

A lot of these tracks from her album are about being broken hearted, troubles with relationships. It is quite upsetting and emotional however the music is the complete opposite it is upbeat, catchy and happy. 

Words: Gemma Hirst

SHIT ROBOT - We Got A Love

NYC dance floor record label DFA has spent the last ten years releasing some of the finest DIY grooves the world has seen, this sophomore release by solo modern disco artist Shit Robot is no exception to this. The album sees a plethora of cameos from some legends of modern dance music including Nancy Whang of LCD Soundsystem, Lidell Townself and (quite bizarrely) comedian Reggie Watts.

The album is chock full of four on the floor dance beats which push all 9 tracks along well, generating dancefloor rhythms which form a strong base for the album, on top of this, you have deep bass synthesisers and occasionally some LCD Soundsystem style treble heavy electric bass. Your classic disco themes are present; some airy synth hooks and catchy piano lines, however the album doesn’t just sound like a throwback 80’s album, it’s so much more than that. 

At times, tracks sounds like Disclosure with more soul and a bit of natural DIY charm. The vocal contributions complement the music perfectly, creating memorable choruses which despite their repetitive nature never become grating. Instead, they give the tracks a direction and a structure, making the songs sound more like solid singles rather than just an empty backing track. The two instrumental tracks on the release are both based around single looped sequences with layers of sonic material adding some dynamics. Unfortunately, unlike the vocal based tracks, these instrumentals lack order and sound lazily put together. 

I wouldn’t say that Shit Robot is thinking man’s music and that might just be why I found the instrumentals directionless, but maybe these tracks are better to listen to in a club rather than alone in a room, thinking about every chord and stylistic element. Overall, I found the album very enjoyable, the album isn’t the most groundbreaking album I’ve ever heard and certainly isn’t a game changer for modern dance music but I can’t deny that I enjoyed this album greatly.

Words: Alex Greenup

DAVIDGE - Neil Davidge interview by Neil Pace

Neil Davidge’s musical heritage is a mighty impressive one. As a member of Massive Attack he played his part in three great albums, including the legendary Mezzanine. As a musical collaborator he has worked with David Bowie, Snoop Dogg and Damon Albarn. As the composer, arranger and producer of the soundtrack to Halo 4, Davidge is responsible for the highest charting video game soundtrack ever made.

As Neil prepares to launch his first solo album, Slo Light, he spoke to us about musical collaborations, album launch preparations, and some of the artists who have provided inspiration.

NE:MM: Slo Light feels epic in scope, did it take an epic length of time to write and record?

ND: Not really, at least in comparison to other albums I've made over the years. I think in total it took around 8 months although I had two song ideas before that. It might seem a long time compared to a typical 'band' album but for an electronic / sonic / cinematic album it's not a lot of time to write, record, arrange, programme and mix.

NE:MM: Where was the album recorded?

ND: Most of the album was recorded in or around Bristol, the majority in my apartment studio in the centre of town. A few of the vocals however were recorded elsewhere on the planet. 'Zero One Zero' and 'They Won't Know' were recorded in NYC, ‘Home From Home’ in Iceland (the country not the supermarket) and ‘Gallant Foxes’ in South Wales.

NE:MM: You’ve worked with many of the biggest names in music, how did the other artists on this album come to be involved?

ND: I came across them in various ways, by accident and through reaching out. I met Stephonik in NY when I was recording with Massive Attack, we were at a studio in Williamsburg with TV on the Radio. Cate Le Bon was recommended to me by the owner of Toy Box studios in Bristol. Claire Tchaikowski I met at a Temple Meads train station in Bristol, she was a friend of Andrew Morgan who'd been working for me on Halo 4 and the album. Karima Francis and I had written a few things together for her project in the past. Patrick Duff is local and someone I always fancied working with. We reached out to Ryan from Low Roar after Drew caught something with him YouTube, we finally tracked him down in Iceland. And Sandie Shaw... I've been a fan of hers since I was a kid, I dropped a list of people I'd like to work with to my management company and coincidentally her management had enquired the same day as to whether I would be interested in working with her. It's a bit of a list, most of the hook ups were really a matter of chance and ultimately chemistry.

NE:MM: Was the album conceived as an album from day one, or did it ‘become’ an album as the recording process progressed?

ND: I had the two songs before I decided to make an album but there was a conscious decision made and finance sought in order to make it happen. In part this album was conceived as a 'coming out' after years behind the scenery with Massive Attack but once the decision had been made it became personal and I sweated blood in order to make the best record I could.

NE:MM: Do you work exclusively on one project at a time or do you always have a number of projects on the go?

ND: I much prefer to do one thing at a time, when I put 100% into something (which I find it hard not to do) and then switch to something else I really struggle to make that transition, it really fucks with my head. I imagine it's a bit like those glasses that turn everything upside down, after a while the brain compensates so the person can see right side up, until they take them off again, in the periods of adjustment there's a lot of falling over and feeling nauseous... Even switching to normal life can be a challenge when I'm focused on an album or score so I try as best I can to factor that in and give myself a buffer. I'd say 9 times out of 10 I fail miserably to make that happen!

NE:MM: What kind of emotions do you experience during the weeks approaching an album’s release?

ND: The build up to this album release has been very different to any other album I've been involved in, principally because it's my album so I'm doing the interviews, checking artwork, videos etc. At the same time I've been working on a film score and as previously mentioned, I find it bloody hard to do more than one thing at a time. I've been working in the studio till 1 or 2 in the morning then coming home checking emails, approving artwork etc. That's 7 days a week, I even worked through the New Year. So, I've felt overwhelmed, excited, scared, happy, lonely, fired up... You name it, It's been a challenge to stay sane much of the time.

NE:MM: Who is your musical hero and why (and do you also admire them for other reasons beyond the musical ones)?

ND: I've been dreading this question because I honestly don't have one... I admire many musicians and artists work but I've never 'hero worshipped' anyone even when I was younger. From the Beatles to Bowie to Can to Radiohead, there's a very long list of artists and albums I keep going back to and have inspired me at some point in my life. I think it's the ingenuity and creativity of the human spirit in general that I find myself most in awe of and what keeps me striving to do better, that's all around me.

NE:MM: If you were to recommend to new listeners the artists who have inspired you, which of their works would you suggest starting with?

ND: Sgt. Peppers Lonely Heart Club Band, Bitches Brew, Y, Tago Mago, OK Computer, Clair De Lune, Dummy, Solaris (Cliff Martinez score), Aladdin Sane, Absence.

Slo Light by Davidge is released on 3 March 2014 0n 7Hz Recordings. 

Check out the album review in NE:MM issue No. 7 

VARIOUS ARTISTS - Future Disco Vol. 7 - 'Til The Lights Come Up

I’m always a bit wary of compilations. They’re the kind of thing people get their cousins because they know they’re into music.

Unlike the worn-out, conveyor belt of the Ministry of Sound brand, the Future Disco moniker has time on its side. It’s still only seven volumes young and looks as if it serves a more important purpose than simply cataloguing the 90’s to 00’s dance chart.

Compiled by DJ and Needwant record label boss Sean Bronson, ‘Till the Lights Come Up’ suggests a focus on the ‘Magic and mystery of the early hours’. That point on a night out where your ears go a bit fuzzy and every sound satisfyingly leaks into another, but you’re still happily jiving on the dance-floor, probably making a tit of yourself.

The album covers ground between house, dance and neo-disco – possible Chill-house territory. The Psychemagik Remix of Mirror Mirror’s ‘Kaleidoscope’  proves to be the catalyst for that sound; heady with a touch of ambience yet mildly danceable; maybe swaying a bit or trying not to fall over after all those trebles.

Axel Boman’s Remix of Name In Lights’ ‘Naughty’ provides the modern house juices of the album, coupling shiny synth with a knocking beat, that flows comfortably throughout the track. A more signature house sound, can be found in Ejeca’s  ‘Together’ which combines just about the right amount of bouncing piano chords with sharps, pulsing beats.

Some of the tracks have crude Homework-era Daft Punk qualities - squelchy basslines and orgasmic female vocal samples in Renato Cohen’s ‘Suddenly Funk’.  Elsewhere, Mount Kimbie’s ‘Made to Stray’ is put through the blades of a software blender to create an odd yet distinctive remix by DJ Koze, that couldn’t get further away from the original, without losing it’s genius. 

There’s an overall consistency to the sound of the album, although later moments like Templehof ‘s ‘Drake’ (Future Disco Edit) and Tale Of Us & Clockwork‘s ‘Lost Keys’ seem incredibly light next to other tracks. It’s like there’s an overly conscious effort being made to milk the concept of hours passing and the night moving on but coming off woozy and lethargic rather than relaxing.

‘Till The Lights Come Up’ stands well above other dance compilations, simply by promoting the more obscure or unknown artists on the scene. Until it starts to dissolve into a floppy mess; reflecting the heap your body is in after on too many, the album makes a good claim that those hazier hours of the night might just be the most special after all.

Words: Nad Khan

AKKORD - Akkord

I’ve always fancied myself as a bit of ambient head, as someone who, once a week, sits quietly in a dark room meditating to whatever ethereal arrangement of atmospheric sounds he’s managed to stumble upon that week. In reality, my lifelong love for drum and bass has always penetrated such moments, meaning that instead of listening to what you could term ‘pure’ ambient, I’ve always swayed towards the sort of music that combines thoughtful, oscillating ambient tones with the rough template of 170bpm. Sam KDC, ASC, and the like are fine examples, but I’ve always been especially fond of the slices of loveliness served up by Synkro and Indigo. Their first release on Exit Records, ‘Guidance/Reflection’, was truly pathbreaking, and their individual offerings on the same label, ‘Progression’ by Synkro and the bafflingly named ‘Ayahuasca’ by Indigo were excellent. It was through these tunes that I began to explore, and quickly became a fan of, these two young producers. 

Of course, they’ve not confined themselves to the 170bpm template. For example, in the past 18 months or so, they’ve both put out brilliant solo EPs on R&S sub-label Apollo, EPs that demonstrated they are also capable of producing tunes that render the boundaries between what constitutes garage, downtempo, and ambient music as completely superficial. Then something surprising happened. Around the same time as their Apollo EPs, a couple of anonymous tunes by an anonymous ‘music collective’ called Akkord surfaced and were self-released on limited vinyl pressings. Defined by eclectic concoctions of techno and garage, and put together in such a meticulous way that would have a civil engineer nodding in agreement, these self-released 12”s caused quite a stir, not just because of their quality but because of their stony anonymity. Some said it was another Paul Woolford alias, others said it might by Blawan plus a couple of his mates, but I don’t think many people threw the names of Synkro and Indigo into the mix. It seems we were wrong. Alas, we were, and Akkord were unmasked. They’ve recently released their debut LP on the esteemed Houndstooth label, and, if I’m honest, it’s utterly brilliant. 

For me, this is a techno album, but one which pays no attention to what accepted definitions of techno are. You feel like it’s a techno album made by people who’ve never listened to techno before (although they obviously have). Or, if they have, they’ve only listened to techno to come up with ways of turning it inside-out. Tunes like ‘Hex Ad’ and ‘Folded Edge’ are the sort of tunes that when you hear them on a dance floor, you briefly stop, trying to work out exactly what is going on with the genius percussion, but not realising that all the while your face is melting like a snowman in the baking sun. ‘Navigate’ is a bit more simple, a bit more stripped, but it conjures the same affect; rattling, skittling breaks skip over a 4x4 tempo while a droning, nightmarish bassline contorts itself in the background. And as for ‘3dOS’: I do not possess the adequate technical vocabulary to describe what they do with that bassline, although I suspect it might involve a Tardis borrowed from the Time Lords.  It must be listened to to be believed. I even ran it through my mixer, turning the bass up and the highs and mids down to zero, just to experiment, and it sounded immense on a planetary scale. 

Then you get the slightly more downtempo bits, such as ‘Torr Vale’ and album closer ‘Undertow’, that simmer with angry energy while reducing the percussion to an absolute minimum. ‘Rocendal’ sounds like something that might get released by Mala on DMZ; while ‘Conveyor’ scared the shit out of me when it dropped, sounding like what might happen if a synthesiser was hit by a lightning bolt. A special mention should also go to ‘Smoke Circle’. When listening to its ritualistic pounding drums, I thought to myself this is something that should be recited over and, duly enough, a harsh, guttural chant appeared moments later. 

All in all, every tune on here shocked and astounded me in equal measure. On listening through a couple of times however, once you’ve un-dropped your jaw and paid a bit more attention, you notice with curiosity that there’s actually not a great deal of different sounds across this album. This could have been a recipe for boredom and thus disaster. But what prevents this is, you come to realise, a feeling of constant, ceaseless progression; even though the sounds are familiar, you’re always aware of this slightly unsettling sensation of growing suspense, as if you’re listening to something that is in an endless process of edging towards some sort of cataclysm. In other words, it grows and grows and grows without ever revealing what the final stage of this growth might be. It feels like the entire album is in a constant state of becoming something. That something is, of course, itself. As a consequence, it succeeds in what many artists claim they try to do but what few of them actually manage: to create on album with a ‘feel’, with an overall coherence that permeates through every individual tune without making these individual tunes disinteresting and repetitive. It is one of the most meticulously detailed, technically precise, gobsmackingly original, and terrifyingly arranged albums that I’ve came across in some time. In short, a masterpiece. It won’t be for everyone, admittedly, but if you want to listen to the very cutting edge of what dance music is and what it can do in 2014, then there aren’t many better places to start.     

Words: Matthew Scott

ALABAMA 3 - Northumbria University - 9th December 2013

There aren’t many bands who can boast a real live folk hero in their midst but with Nick Reynolds the Alabama 3 can confidently claim they have just such a man. Nick Reynolds is the son of the architect of the Great Train Robbery Bruce Reynolds and a fine blues harmonica player to boot. This fact is celebrated around half way through tonight’s set with ‘Have You Seen Bruce Richard Reynolds’ with Nick wailing on his harp and the audience giving the song a resounding cheer. The band comes across as a bunch of renegade outlaws and to have Reynolds in their midst seems somehow fitting for a band that comes on like The Stones if they had sacked Jagger in the late 80’s (after “Dirty Work”) and took on an Acid House groove with Jack Nicholson as lead singer and a reactivated Brian Jones sticking to blues-wailing harmonica. It’s a heady hip-hoppy stew for sure.

With scant introductions to songs its difficult to pin down song titles but there are references to Elvis and John Sinclair with front man Jake Black (AKA The Very Reverend Dr D Wayne Love) telling us he would rather believe in the King than “some long haired dude wandering around Palestine 2000 years ago”. Rob Spragg (AKA Larry Love) provides ample vocal support and loose limbed dancing amongst much shouts of “NEWCASSSSEEEEARRRL” and the impossibly thin Aurora Dawn looks cool and funky behind her huge shades whilst providing powerful soulful back up vocals. Steve Finnerity (AKA Lovepipe) gives us his electronics that feature heavily in the beefed up sound. In his Guy Fawkes mask and shoulder length hair he IS “V” from the cult film “V For Vendetta”.

Songs that sound as they might be called ‘Shoot Me Up’, ‘Stop the Clock’ and ‘We Do it’ are delivered in a glorious hip-hop funk stew that make the band sound like a fantastically updated Talking Heads with Dr Love telling us that they are taking the hip-hop route “because we can.” Wandering mysteriously around the stage plucking a bass is an older guy in a pork-pie hat who is eventually introduced as John “Segs” Jennings who, it is claimed, has come on board the Alabama 3 band-waggon after having been sacked from The Ruts on Sunday for being “too raucous.” 

The band are probably best known for providing the theme song, “Woke up this Morning”, for TV’s greatest ever show “The Sopranos” and a tough swampy version is dutifully delivered towards the end of the set. A superb cover of John Prine’s “The Speed and Sound of Loneliness” pops up mid set and underlines their Happy-Mondays-meets-Hank-Williams approach to their sound.   

We are in free-fall to the end now and a monstrous “U Don’t Dans 2 Tekno Anymore” has the crowd whooping along. The crowd shout long and hard for an encore and eventually Dr Love returns to claim that the band are the “Chlamydia of Rock n Roll” before dancing us all off into the night. A smokin’, show. 

Words and Photo: Greg Johnson

WILKINSON - Lazers Not Included

The rise of drum and bass producer Wilkinson is probably only a couple of asteroids short of being meteoric. He first came to attention with a tidy release on the Hospital Records compilation Sick Music 2, a cute, uplifting, number entitled ‘Hypnosis’, which despite being one of the better tunes on the compilation seemed to slip under the radar somewhat. As a result, when he was signed exclusively to (arguably) the biggest drum and bass label in the business, Ram Records, many brows were furrowed and several ribs were nudged. “Who’s this Wilkinson fella?” we muttered incredulously. “He’s just signed for Ram, apparently. But who on earth is he?”

I guess this is testament both to Ram’s knack for spotting unpolished talent, and also to the relative uselessness of drum and bass watchers (i.e. me). For what followed was rather astonishing. His first single, released in 2010, was called ‘Moonwalker’. Innocuous enough title, you may think, but deary deary me. Hell fire and brimstone. When I first heard it, I was, like everyone else, completely unprepared. Consequently, when that drill-like synth and those space-age beeps came whirling out of my speakers, my face melted like Swiss cheese on a George Foreman and my eyes widened to the size of Mystic Meg’s crystal ball. It was quite simply one of the biggest tunes of the year, and it came out of absolutely nowhere. Then, on the other hand, we’ve had releases like ‘Tonight’, which refrain from liquefying your face and instead lull it into a blissful state of hands-in-the-air euphoria.  Thus, we have the two main styles of Wilkinson’s music: the face destroying (Moonwalker, Overdose, et al) and the face soothing (Tonight, Every Time, and so on). This is not to say that the face soothing is not dancefloor orientated: it absolutely is. With these few singles under his belt, both approaches have now been thrown into a melting pot, the result of which is his debut album, ‘Lazers Not Included’.

With this, Wilkinson becomes the latest drum and bass producer to poke his head above the parapet of mainstream success. It has become somewhat of a blasphemy to do this recently, as, in drum and bass circles, mainstream success is now almost instantly associated with selling out: with betraying your ‘original’ fans for money and wider recognition. This is, of course, utter nonsense in most cases, and is even less the case with this album. The majority of the ‘face soothing’ tunes on here absolutely sparkle. ‘Afterglow’ is the obvious contender for such a critic-bashing, having reached No. 8 in the UK Charts, but it is a superb, dreamy affair, with Becky Hill (the one off The Voice) layering a pleasant vocal over a stunning arrangement of sparse breaks and deep bass. If Rudimental gave Calibre a massage, it might sound like this. Further down the tracklist, ‘Need to Know’ features a nice guitar intro, reminiscent of Marky and Stamina’s seminal ‘LK’, before the deep, smooth bass and euphoric synth take over. ‘Take You Higher’ and the vinyl only ‘Casino’ fit into this mould rather well too, and it is all very well done: laser (or, more aptly, ‘Lazer’) precise and skilfully arranged.

The ‘face destroying’ sound is well covered as well. For instance, ‘Like It Hard’ is a brutal, swinging Dillinja-esque affair, while I expect listening to ‘Sleepless’ on an even half-decent sound-system will induce a facial expression not dissimilar to the one depicted in Edward Munch’s painting of The Scream.  In fact, the bad parts of this album are very few and far between. There is only one tune on it that I heartily dislike: ‘Heartbeat’, with P Money and Arlissa on vocals. I’m not sure if it’s trying to be a moody, grime tinged clash or a no nonsense drumstep banger, and in the end it unsatisfactorily ends up being neither. Even if it succeeded in being one or the other, I probably still wouldn’t like it. The fusion of grime and drum and bass has never sat well with me for some reason, and neither has drumstep. But this doesn’t really matter. For the real selling point of this album is that Wilkinson’s seamless standard of production permeates through at every turn, oozing through both the face destroying and face soothing sounds. I don’t like ‘Heartbeat’, but to deny it is expertly produced would be as silly as removing your trousers in the middle of a shopping mall. 

All in all then, this LP is simultaneously a very good drum and bass album and a very good breakthrough album. It achieves a happy (and hard to achieve, it should be said) balance between the fizzy, over-polished sound of the likes of DJ Fresh and Sub Focus and the dark, gritty sounds of Dillinja and Mampi Swift. As a consequence, it is easy to recommend, whatever style of electronic music you may happen to be into. So, dear readers, pick it up and give it a listen. You may be pleasantly surprised.

Words: Matthew Scott

CHVRCHES - The Bones Of What You Believe

For some reason, I am unaccountably annoyed by the v in Chvrches.  In all honesty, mostly by the fact it is there to avoid confusion with actual churches in internet searches.  Their first gig as unsigned artists sold out and was jam packed with A&R men.  They featured in the Guardian’s New Bands of the Day before they had even officially released a single.   So far, so hype.  However, you only have to listen to a couple of songs to realise that Chvrches aren’t the emperor’s new clothes after all and that there is an abundance of substance to back up the hype. 

I’ll level with you, the last synth-pop album I bought was probably by Depeche Mode in the last 1980s and nothing in between has made me feel I’m missing out.  The singles you’ve probably already heard are great but the rest of the album is anything but filler.  Mayberry’s vocals which might sound too “sweet” over more fey tracks, provide the perfect foil for the synth beats.   Tracks such as 'We Sink' and 'Tether' simply sparkle with electro-melody (I don’t think that’s a thing.  I just made it up.  Sorry.) 'Lungs' is absolutely perfect pop. 

Possibly because I was so taken with Mayberry’s vocals, the only low point of the album for me was 'You Caught the Light' where Doherty takes lead vocals.  The tempo is slower on this track and it simply lacks the crackle of the rest of the album. 

Regardless of genre, the thing which elevates songs to greatness which will stand the test of time, is the quality of the songwriting.  Mayberry, Cook and Doherty spent 8 months in a basement crafting these tunes and every minute of it shows. This album is genuinely so good that I’m going to buy it rather than just stream it on Spotify and praise doesn’t come much higher than that.   

Words: Gail Richardson

  

STEVE MASON - Fire! (Video)

Ahead of his upcoming gig at Newcastle's Warehouse 34 on 9th November we spoke to Steve Mason. The interview will be included in issue 5 of NE:MM that is distributed across Newcastle/Gateshead 16th October 2013. We're big fans of Steve's music and don't need any more of an excuse to post a link to the video for his latest release (out 4th November on Domino Recording Co) 'Fire!' Enjoy. 

Words: Russell Poad
Picture: Kevin Morosky

JANELLE MONAE - The Electric Lady

Back in 2011, I bought a copy of Janelle Monáe's debut album The ArchAndroid after catching some of her attention-grabbing, limb-shaking Glastonbury set on the TV. A 19-track sci-fi concept album, it took a full year of listening to truly appreciate the full extent of the genius that lay within - namely, some of the most inventive, genre-defining yet also genre-defying pop / R'n'B / soul / jazz / whatever, music ever written. As a multitude of sounds and musical themes and interludes and refrains flowed from the speakers, there was one comparison in both sound and tone that really stuck with me: "This sounds like an album inspired by 'Pure Imagination' from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."

For anyone who grew up watching that film (and who didn't at least once in their childhood?) it's a remarkable song - not only beautiful, drenched in luscious strings with a soaring melody, but a musical accompaniment to the moment in which you see Wonka's Chocolate Room for the first time - an array of sweet treats, every single one of them edible. Giant gummy bears, candy canes growing on trees, flowering tea cups... And there, right in the middle, a gushing waterfall of warm, velvety chocolate. The Electric Lady, like The ArchAndroid before it, is an album which not only occasionally sounds like 'Pure Imagination', but truly feels like it. It's a veritable candyland, a grand, vibrant, epic, expansive body of work overflowing with a range of flavours and sweet, inventive delights. On first listen, all I could think was: this is audio magic, it's a Wonka invention, it's chocolate you can listen to, so rich and smooth and moreish. Like the Chocolate Room, The Electric Lady is sweet and clever and daring and mad and somewhere you want to spend hours of your life at a time. It's an album to live and breathe in, one that makes you want to taste and try and see and do.

Monáe's music works on a series of levels. Much is made of her sci-fi concepts, her alter-egos, the tuxedos she wears on stage every night, her choices of collaborators and her lack of media sexualisation. And rightly so - first up, her long-running concept both references and places itself amongst classic and contemporary science fiction (Fritz Lang's Metropolis, Blade Runner, The Matrix), encompassing notions of time travel, robotic organisms and dystopian societies. There's a story in there somewhere regarding an android named Cindi Mayweather who has fallen in love with a human and is being hunted by the powers that be, but really these are a cipher for tackling a whole range of contemporary issues and classic science fiction themes. In Monáe's fantasy, Cindi is pop star, artist, lover and agent of freedom, a loose cannon in the system inspiring change in a futuristic society. She may also be The ArchAndroid, a fabled entity destined to free the people from shadowy string-pulling secret society the Great Divide. Monáe is the same thing to popular culture, a rogue entity taking in regimented genres, mediums and notions, chewing them up and spitting them back out as her own beautiful, modern works of art. Her music preaches notions of love, acceptance and equality with themes that have contemporary relevance (the question of what makes android love so different from 'normal' human love, isn't the trickiest metaphor to untangle) but also traditional ties - struggles of race, social stratification and forbidden romance.

These notions don't just emerge in the lyrical content but the music itself, and the genres that Monáe deftly weaves. Soul and R'n'B originated in the slave tradition, an outlet to help deal with the trauma of societal injustice, and were later re-imagined in '60s and '70s Motown records. Monáe recalls The Supremes and Stevie Wonder, singing soulful tales of Cyndi's heartbreak and struggles against a restrictive, destructive system. There are orchestral strings and jazzy horns which bring to mind Gottfried Huppertz's score for Fritz Lang's Metropolis, a major influence on the concept of a literal stratified futuristic dystopian society and a mythical redemptive female android. Synthy funk brings to mind '80s Prince and all the sass and snaking hips that conjures. There are hints of doo-wop and rock'n'roll, conjuring the deification of Elvis in the depiction of Cindi Mayweather as a controversial pop icon. It's all here, combined with '00s sub-bass and contemporary R'n'B production. The album's opening 'Suite IV Electric Overture' even recalls the spaghetti western twangs immortalised by Ennio Morricone.

The Electric Lady is Suites IV and V of Monae's sci-fi opus, which began in her Metropolis EP and continued in 2010's masterpiece The ArchAndroid. The story itself is difficult to follow, continuing the star-crossed romance of Cyndi Mayweather and Anthony Greendown, but also charting Mayweather's rise to prominence as a revolutionary figure. It's decidedly more explicit in certain songs, however much more consistent is the ongoing narrative of female self-empowerment. Monae's music celebrates strong, groundbreaking women such as humanitarian Harriet Tubman, celebrated actress Dorothy Dandridge, and Sally Ride, the first American woman in space. On 'Ghetto Woman' Monáe's own mother is given her own ode, a woman who "even when she thought she couldn't, she carried on". Lead single 'Q.U.E.E.N.' is a mission statement for Monáe's female listeners: "Will you be electric sheep? Electric ladies, will you sleep? Or will you preach?" And she does practice what she preaches - she's never scantily clad ("there's danger when you take off your clothes, all your dreams go down the drain girl", she once sang on 'Sincerely, Jane'), supportive of fellow female artists and intent on continuing to spread messages of strong female figures and gender equality. There are even frequent references to same-sex relationships, the album featuring more mentions of a mysterious 'Mary' than your average Bruce Springsteen song. With the same-sex marriage bill making progress across America, it doesn't seem like a stretch too far to see allusions in 'Sally Ride's refrain: "Wake up, Mary / Have you heard the news? / You've got to wake up, Mary / You've got the right to choose".

All of the above makes Janelle Monáe an exciting, diverse, skilful, clever, well-versed, forward-thinking, visionary artist. But what makes her truly great is that none of that is essential. They're extended footnotes, an expositionary appendix to what's simply an incredible sounding record.  Her sci-fi leanings and themes of female empowerment add a huge amount of depth to her music, but strip that all away and you've still got a bunch of the best recorded songs of recent years. The Prince-featuring 'Givin' 'Em What They Love' is the best album opener of 2013 with a killer first line: "I am sharper than a razor, eyes made of lasers, bolder than the truth". It's a supremely confident, smoky strut of a song, primed with mystique, blasting horns and squealing guitars hiding in the wings ready to pounce. Then it's on to 'Q.U.E.E.N.', odd and funky as hell with squawking, shimmering synths, booming bass and a drop-dead amazing rap finale. And just when you think the level of quality can't be sustained, in strides the euphoric 'Electric Lady' with a humongous chorus, gigantic pop hooks ("ooh, shock it, break it, baby, electric lady, electric lady!"), clanging percussion and parping horns that dare you not to throw your arms in the air. And on it continues to Pixies-sampling ballad 'Primetime', then to soul banger 'We Were Rock & Roll', then... It just keeps coming, hit after hit after hit. Even slightly underwhelming second single 'Dance Apocalyptic' shines in context.

Suite V is more mid-tempo, but no less immediately brilliant. In fact, these are some of the least drippy ballads you'll hear all year, ones which will have you reaching for the repeat button rather than fast-forward. 'It's Code' slinks in as this album's equivalent to The ArchAndroid's 'Neon Valley Street', all wah-wah guitars and dreamy backing vocals. 'Victory' and 'Sally Ride' eschew straight-forward melodies for much more interesting ones that surprise anew with every listen, both proving that as well as amazing moves (her legs appear to have a life of their own in live performances), Monáe's got a huge set of pipes. And there in the middle of the mid-tempo soul swooners and blistering ballads is 'Ghetto Woman', a footloose freakout that's a modern re-imagining of '9 to 5' with dazzling, dizzying synths and a bassline that's less walking, more on the constant verge of a kicking all the doors down. When Monáe's rap bursts out of the speakers at the three minute mark, a pure streak of burning fire, it's a standout moment on an album that never lets up - and that is saying something.

The only thing that can even be vaguely considered a shame with The Electric Lady is the lack of a 'BaBopByeYa'-esque closer. The ArchAndroid's epic 10-minute last track saw Monáe break out into full-on cinematic orchestral scores and silky smooth diva jazz, yet another sign that she's destined to do an incredible Bond theme one day. It was a tough nut to crack into, being at the end of a 70-minute double album, but once it clicked it proved an astonishing musical feat that stands as the album's crowning glory. That there isn't a comparative track on The Electric Lady is less a failing of the album than another reminder of just how special The ArchAndroid really is.

Has The Electric Lady taken the crown of Album of the Year? The truth is, it feels like an album that exists outside of 2013, like it's always been there. It's that brilliant. Unlike Lady Gaga, Janelle Monáe doesn't have to spell it out in capital letters that she's written an artistic pop album. She's the antidote to the meaningless word-vomit void of Nicki Minaj, both a throwback and utterly of the here and now, an inspirational, aspirational pop star with something true and creative to say. It feels so rare that an album this visionary, this well-formed, this full of ideas and thoughts and feelings, something so special, comes along. As I reach to give it yet another play, I highly recommend you do the same. Come with me, and you'll see in a world of pure imagination.

Words: Ben Travis