Worldwide Unlimited

DJ Python’s Worldwide Unlimited net Lisbon legend Blastah for a bag of sensuous, playfully animated dembow, drill and kuduro mutations that sit ever so sweetly beside the label’s gems from Sangre Nueva and Henzo. Blastah blesses his debut firmware with a dreamily memorable set of six concise, lowkey burners that hover around reggaeton’s 100-110BPM brackets. Over the years he’s developed an online penpal relationship with Brian Piñero aka DJ Python, naturally leading to this shared conception of romantic club music with a mutable bent that lends itself just as easily to end-of-night slow jam sections as low lit bedrooms. The vibe is perfectly sensuous and set in woozy soft focus, from the Elysia Crampton-esque, dusky fusion of R&B pads and soundsystem stabs on ‘Raining’ to the neck-caressing nod to Timbaland and Timberlake in its ‘Closer’. A heartical deep house dembow sound is echoed on ‘Cendres’, and a prime fusion of US drill softened with subtropical appeal shapes ‘Unknown’ and the slinky, subbass-gilded minimalism of ‘Call’, while ‘Fish Friends’ most clearly betrays his taste for late night Lisbon tarraxho. Up-to-the-moment, inch-tight, timeless pearls for the dancehall lovers.

One of UK Grime’s most shadowy figures comes of age with a killer full length debut released in collab between True Panther and DJ Python’s Worldwide Unlimited, brimming with an incandescent energy arcing from OG to contemporary eras. It's fully addictive gear, joining unexpected dots between hook-heavy pop and weirder modes, on a tip somewhere between Vegyn, Dean Blunt, Playboi Carti, Klein & Junior Boys - just v v good!!!! Previously appearing on these pages as a guest (alongside Charlotte Church!) on Klein’s stunning ‘Harmattan’ album, Jawnino has been actively issuing prime zingers since 2019’s cult self-release ‘It’s Cold Out’, building a robust rep for his effortless and unique takes on grime, drill, jungle, and rap. Noted for his animated style of “melancholic chaos”, Jawnino flows ambidextrous on whatever’s in front of him, and ’40' gives him a whole new playground in which to romp; spelling out his dare-to-differ slant on a colourful instrumental palette supplied by new hands - Woesum, HNRO, Brbko, 3o, and Cold - alongside more experienced guest features and remixers - James Massiah (aka Babyfather’s DJ Escrow), Bok Bok (remixing here as One Bok), Airhead, Evilgiane - with breezy fresh steez and classic storytelling that transcends eras. Blessed with a naturally uncompromising yet broad appeal, Jawnino’s music speaks to life in 2020’s London with an observantly perceptive quality, delivered behind a mask of anonymity. His music is also artfully aware, exhibiting an appetite for variation that sees him glyde equally well on ohrwurming choruses on ‘2trains’, as he does at soulful grime for the club in ‘Dance2’ - an update of his ‘Good Thing Bad Thing Who Knows’ EP nugget that we swear sounds like Junior Boys - while also finding a wry humour in broken Britain on the timelessly drizzly melancholy of ‘It’s Cold Out’, a new expansion of his debut cut produced by Poundshop, Oliver Twist and Cold - and that’s only the opening trio. Characteristic of his generation’s attraction to the most salient aspects of the preceding 20 odd years, Jawnino proves just as adept at jumping on tight D&B to tell tales of weekend excess (‘Lost My Brain’) as screwed boogie forging binds with US spar MIKE (’Short Stories’), or shuffling in the twilight of ‘90s R&B (‘Wind’). A particular standout of drill drama ‘Westfield’ characterises his ability to boost the energy by factors, and likewise dial it right down and draw us closer in on his description of popping percocet, molly and shrooms in ‘sentfromheaven’, also here in Bok Bok’s finely retuned version, nagging ’til the end beside Airhead’s piquant retweak of ‘Cant Be’. For anyone losing faith in rap soundalikes, Jawnino reaffirms a love for classic forms pronounced in new ways.

Leading dons of hybrid dembow club music, Nick León & DJ Python cap a mad couple of years with four metallic, reticulated electro-ton zingers on the latter’s Worldwide Unlimited label. Chasing up León’s summer rave anthem ‘Xstasis’ and production on Rosalía’s ‘Motomami’, and Python’s winding annum including ‘Club Sentimientos Vol. 2’ plus a Sangre Nueva followup with Florentino & Kelman Duran; the pair build on months of residency + hanging at club Suero in Miami with four mercurial fusions finessed with sick, divergent production palettes and techniques. Bridging their known styles into something altogether new, the ‘Split’ EP gives up two solo shots by both artists. Nick León cooks up the spiny ace ‘Nerves’ with its hackled metallic melody set to martial dembow swag and grimiest bass grind, whilst his ‘Love Potion’ pushes the tempo to near percolated broken beats zones, and opens out the vibe with breezy chords and fluid texturing. On the other hand, Python whisks jaunty reggaeton trills and aerosolised electronics in ‘I’m Tired’, and slants off into psychedelic-impressionist abstraction on ‘uwu’ with its un-stitched tresillo patterns and groggy pads coloured well out-of-the-lines. A+ madness.

Tim Zha aka Organ Tapes makes a hyperjump to DJ Python's Worldwide Unlimited label with an emotionally slushed set of singer-songwriter pearls spiked with his own idiosyncratic production moves. An investigation into avant pop, it sounds like a DIY inversion filtered thru the autotuned hypersonix of Ecco2K, Yves Tumor or Palmistry. For over a decade now, Organ Tapes has been masterminding his own obsessively-curated and unique style, attempting to reconcile not just his interests in pop and experimental modes, but also his identity as a British-Chinese artist who's spent his life between Shanghai and London. Through production work for Triad God and releases for Tobago Tracks, Genome6.66Mbp and Berlin’s much loved Creamcake, he’s developed a style that’s pretty much inimitable, with autotuned vocals informed by a long-term love of dancehall, afrobeats and Soundcloud rap, and songs that slip into folk and country, with a compositional mindset that’s unmistakably non-Western. "Chang Zhe Na Wu Ren Wen Jin De Ge Yao" (sing the song that no one cares about) expands on the misty landscapes of 2019's TT-released "Hunger In Me Living”, but while that album retained a wisp of R&B and a vague whiff of ambient, this new one feels firmly grounded in a bedroom pop aesthetic, allowing beams of sunlight to crack through his usually dense, textured clouds. Weft around guitar and vox, Organ Tapes bends the form by employing muffled field recordings, squashed drums and dreamy synths, assembling his tracks with the sort of diaristic warmth you’d expect to find on a claire rousay record. Zha positions himself a few feet away from indie and emo, instead channeling more sparkling influences like TV themes and advertising jingles. His earworm compositions drip with familiar-but-alien riffs, with hooky choruses rendered personal and heartfelt through low-key, lo-fi production smarts. In different hands, it might have all sounded overly exuberant, but anchored by Zha’s muted voice and shaved arpeggios, it's touching and indelible. There’s no cynicism here - the songs work because they come from a genuine place. Just listen to 'Heaven can wait' and tell us you ain't feeling it.