Hyperdub
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hexed!, aya’s second album, confronts the desperation and dysfunction of addiction. Internalised phobias and suppressed traumas, haunt the corridors and golden hours once romanticised on 2021’s im hole; daymares concealed by nocturnal afters-hopping and key bag circles. Opener ‘I am the pipe I hit myself with’ exposes the gray portrait secreted somewhere between the 8th and 9th floors of her previous record. ‘I used to say some shit for sure’, ‘I used to say it when I was me-less’. hexed! is about what happens when aya turns the lights on.
Antidawn reduces Burial’s music to just the vapours.
The record explores an interzone between dislocated, patchwork songwriting and eerie, open-world, game space ambience.
In the resulting no man's land, lyrics take precedence over song, lonely phrases colour the haze, a stark and fragmented structure makes time slow down.
Antidawn seems to tell a story of a wintertime city, and something beckoning you to follow it into the night. The result is both comforting and disturbing, producing a quiet and uncanny glow against the cold. Sometimes, as it enters 'a bad place', it takes your breath away. And time just stops.
Burial releases a limited 12-inch EP "Streetlands", the sequel to "Antidawn"!
With his 2006 masterpiece debut album "Burial" and 2007's second album "Untrue", which was hailed as "the most important electronic music work of this century", he set two monumental achievements, and his true identity still remains. Although his background is unknown, Burial has fascinated many music fans and has influenced many artists.
With his overwhelmingly original sound, he reigns as one of the leading artists of the 2000s. Released in.
It is an ambient work with a texture that you can tell at a glance that it is Burial's work, and its profound sound sets it apart from others, creating a unique world that exceeds 30 minutes despite being an EP work.
その圧倒的なまでにオリジナルなサウンドでゼロ年代を代表するアーティストとして君臨するBurialと〈Hyperdub〉主宰にして、エレクトロニック・ミュージックの最前線を常にひた走る重要人物Kode9 が、2024年6月にデジタルでサプライズリリースしていたスプリット・シングルを数量限定12インチで発売！
DJ Haram's debut album Beside Myself is testament to the survival of the spirit as an artist reckoning with the present global hellscape. A reference for rage/grief and also the alienation of feeling out of step with the world, the album title functions as a double entendre. With a decade spanning career, the “multidisciplinary propagandist” insists on evolving in times of war and weaponized entertainment, challenging herself and her peers, she asks - “how can this be, how can we live with ourselves, how can we find each other and the truth, how can we get free?” The answer is never so explicit but the out-loud musing places her firmly “beside herself”, travelling a “lonely road”, building her space, sharpening her technical production and lyricism to new focus and intention.
On Beside Myself she is joined by a swarm of collaborators, finding her ‘lonely road’ full of peers, collectively navigating pain and purpose, and in occasional moments of joyful respite, mocking the strife. Haram describes herself as a “god fearing atheist” who makes “anti-format audio propaganda/anti-lifestyle immersive sonics”. Her music attests to this, as she brings in friends and collaborators some of whom she’s previously produced with, from MC's Armand Hammer (billy woods + ELUCID), Bbymutha, SHA RAY, her 700 Bliss partner Moor Mother, Dakn, through to co-producers like Underground rap god August Fanon, Egyptian producer El Kontessa, Jersey Club producer Kay Drizz, musicians like trumpeter Aquiles Navarro, and guitarist Abdul Hakim Bilal.
It's immediately identifiable as her work, but simultaneously unclassifiable; a syncretic ensemble built on middle eastern music, that finds equal space in its tormented live production for Jersey Club, punk, noise, electro-acoustic instrumentation and sampling, tambourines, shakers, darbuka drums and violin, matched with trancelike rave synths, walls of 808's and lurking, rumbling bass. Often at the centre is her own performance of unflinching, heartbroken poetic verse, in conversation with inspiring thinkers like Audre Lorde or Nawal El Saadawi (who’s words are featured on the album) and Kim Gordon in context, examining the material and the abstract in equal measure.
On Unleash, Heavee works simultaneously outside and inside the box, rebuilding footwork's framework and vibe to his own unique specification.
Known to his friends as Darryl Bunch Jnr, Heavee is a Queer, Chicago born and raised DJ and producer. He has a long history within footwork, and like many producers in the genre, started off as a dancer. Notably his track 'it's Wack' with DJ Rashad, from his 2018 album WFM on the Teklife label ended up in Flying Lotus' Grand Theft Auto jukebox , his tracks ‘Icemaster’ and ‘8-Bit Shit’ from earlier Hyperdub compilations are still much loved, and outside the Teklife crew, he's also co-produced alongside Sinjin Hawke & Zora Jones.
2022’s 'Audio Assault' EP on Hyperdub restarted his musical journey with some synth-driven, melodic footwork, but Unleash goes much further into audio world-building with a fresh, spongy and citrusy sound palette and rich, bright chord sequences. It's minimal, airy, balancing light and dark, sometimes breezy and sometimes clinical.
Rhythmically, it's dance floor ready, using footwork's 160 template as a springboard for building new drum sounds to express these rhythms. It's also marked out by transforming footwork's classic commanding chants into personal mantras and declarations - 'it's time for something different', 'Unleash the Freak'. 'Make It Work', with no time for unspecified enemies. At times, it seems to draw from R&B, rap, jazz and grime, with a sprinkling of bitter-sweet vintage Detroit techno and a resonance with ‘Pretty Ugly’ Era Scratcha DVA, but with the up-to-date palette and FXs you might hear from friends and contemporaries such as Fractal Fantasy and Suzi Analog.
It's clear that Heavee has upped his production and song writing game for Unleash and he cites studying physical modelling, modulation, and other forms of synthesis along with discussions and collaborative jams with peers that fed into the process. The album takes footworks 'eats all' approach to music in a fresh direction with a freedom of spirit. It's a strong addition to the footwork cannon and shows that experiments in dance music can be fun.
We're excited to bring you this collaboration between Spanish Producer Nueen and Manc vocalist / rapper Iceboy Violet, who has previously sprinkled their magic dust across Hyperdub releases from aya and Loraine James. The album traces the arc of a four year relationship, In Iceboy's words - 'fondly memorialising its highs and documenting its lows, trying to process and reflect positively and then ending with the ecstatic but ominous spark of new love.' Between them they've made an album that's magical, intimate and heartfelt, sometimes anguished but ultimately re-enchanting.
Iceboy and Nueen mutually admired their like-minded approach to making ambient music on recent solo releases and started swapping ideas for collaboration. Nueen sent beats at an almost overwhelming rate, which matched the speed and sharpness of Iceboy's emotions while they processed the end of the aforementioned relationship, creating songs which helped them process and navigate through the mental fog. The tracks were finished with Iceboy zooming in and chiselling the details, all finished in 3 months.
Nueen's music responds with foggy, but richly detailed grainy production. There are Smudgy, drill-laced beats contrasting with curdled, spiralling chords and at times he seems to isolate elements from Burial's palette and intensifies them, like SM FID's fire-like crackles. At other times, he draws out a malevolent ambience which feels elemental and troubling like on Cement Skin. Friends and collaborators switched up some of these songs, with artist Harriet Morley as the first voice on the album and Dawuna adding their rugged silky background vocals around Still's descriptions of black hair braiding and lives intimately intertwined. The album's final track, Kiss Me Again is blessed with young Manchester singer Bennettiscoming as a softening foil to Iceboy's coarse rapture.
You Said You'd Hold My Hand Through The Fire is an immensely affecting and lucid album, powerfully wrought and ultimately hopeful.
Written and produced by Laurel Halo
Mixed by Cole MGN
Mastered by Jason Goz at Transition
Laurel Halo - Piano, synth, vibraphone, guitaret, vocals
Eli Keszler - Drum kit, dumbek, glockenspiel
Max D - Cowbell (Jelly)
Klein - Vocals (Sun to Solar, Jelly)
Lafawndah - Vocals (Jelly, Syzygy)
Michael Salu - Vocals (Who Won?)
Craig Clouse - Wurlitzer (Who Won?, Syzygy, Like an L, Do U Ever Happen)
Julia Holter - Cello (Do U Ever Happen)
Michael Beharie - Electric guitar (Moontalk)
Diamond Terrifier - Tenor saxophone (Arschkriecher, Who Won?)
“Sun to Solar” lyrics adapted from “Servidão de Passagem” by Haroldo de Campos (Something Else Press / Primary Information)
This recording was made at and with the support of the Curtis R. Priem Experimental Media and Performing Arts Center, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY.
Album design by Bureau Mirko Borsche
Photography by Phillip Aumann
We've all experienced earworms - those phrases or riffs that spiral through your head for an eternity, materializing when you least expect it. On 'Models', Brummie producer Lee Gamble lets these sonic spectres inform a suite of illusory anthems, subliming vulnerable, half-remembered fragments of dream pop, Soundcloud rap and trance in the process. Sung by cybernetic voices in an almost wordless language, his widescreen memories reverberate across the last few decades of pop history, smudging Elizabeth Frazer's surreal poetry into disembodied diva cries and Lil Uzi Vert's abstract, AutoTuned mumbles.
It's a technique that advances the theories behind Gamble's 2012 album 'Diversions 1994-1996', when the producer vaporized interludes and breakdowns from his collection of jungle tapes into ghosted echoes. He surveys and blurs musical history in much the same way here, but swerves sampling completely and isn't in search of passive, ambient euphoria. On 'Models' Gamble instead trains his focus on the synthetic voice, an element that's far more conspicuous. Loose phrases were fed into a series of neural networks which would attempt to mimic them and sing them back, often corrupting them into indecipherable clouds. Gamble's role was to make sense of the chatter and twist these non-words into tight emotional coils. Extracting the most haunted fragments and using them to sculpt dreamy pop simulacrums, Gamble takes the concept of the pop producer to its logical extreme - examining how intonation and language is engineered to monopolize our attention, his uncomfortably addicting, magical realist inversion of pop plays like a bewitching symphony of earworms.
The record's front cover is a dimly lit photograph of a West Midlands motorway, rooting Gamble's effervescent fantasies in lived albeit flimic reality. It's a direct link to the producer's home turf and a conscious attempt to sidestep the visual aesthetics of contemporary digital art.
On 'Purple, Orange' Gamble's process is heralded by a crooning, artificial wail. As unsettling and out-of-body as an episode of déjà vu, it's marked with eldritch wrinkles that pitch it closer to Carnatic scales, stressing that the transhuman voice doesn't come from a single place, but all places at once: no-one and everyone.
Like a premonition of a hyperpop-trip-hop fusion that hasn't happened yet, Models is saccharine and melancholy at once. And just as Tricky perfectly represented the mid-'90s by costuming vintage soul and rap with his visionary outfits, Gamble fits out his sonic mannequins in the drapery of the algorithmic age: DAW-fried vocal artifacts, mannered, hyperreal instrumentation and cavernous digital reverb. The meaning we attach to pop is often our own. Sometimes the words are right there - "so close to me," we can make out through the dust - before they're split into fractal shapes and devolved into gibberish. It's pop music, but it ain't background music.
Nazar’s second album, Demilitarize follows his remarkable 2020 debut Guerrilla, which was released just as Covid started to lock down the world. That first album reprocessed kuduro music from Angola with rough textures, field recordings and media clips, re-telling Nazar's personal story of the civil war that exiled his family in Europe, while his father, a rebel General, fought a losing battle in the jungle back home.
After Guerrilla, and in the early throes of a new and important romance, Nazar was hit by Covid and with a weakened immune system, the latent tuberculosis he'd incubated while living in Angola, took over his body and left him seriously ill for a year. Reckoning with mortality and the flowering of new love are the two things that motivated this album, turning the ‘rough kuduro’ of Guerrilla inside out.
Like his debut, this is a deep sound world, but in contrast to its grit and realness, Demilitarize is genuinely dreamy. The arc of the album describes shedding the armour of trauma and surrendering to this new situation. A constant and unexpected aspect of Demilitarize is Nazar's gentle, submerged vocal. Insistent and mantra-like, it’s like a cross between Elisabeth Frazer, Arthur Russell and Frank Ocean, and the music is fragile and opaque in response.
Nazar says - 'With the album being introspective, I didn't seek to capture sounds from real places to enhance it’s universe like on Guerilla. I wanted to make it almost metaphysical like creating sci-fi, with classic cyberpunk anime ‘Ghost In The Shell’ being a core inspiration.' The rhythms of kuduro are still here, but move around his voice like fish around a swimmer. The precise sound design on Demilitarize illuminates from different angles. Chords spiral, ripple and shoot through the beats giving tracks the loosest of settings. Songs disassemble and vocals float off-centre.
Demilitarize insists you zoom in, listen closely, tune into Nazar's rare vibration. Let it overwhelm you, while paying close attention.