Debate surrounding the ardkore continuum has escalated lately. It has become in vogue to declare the ‘nuum dead – UK music, it is argued, has slouched into a postmodern, retrogressive cycle. Martin Clarke’s recent article for FACT, entitled ‘End of the Road’, suggests the rise of ‘road rap’ as signifier of the nuum’s decline. Clarke cites the emerging influence of US hip-hop (UK emcees rhyming over Nas instrumentals rather than grimey beats) as a death blow to the quintessentially UK genre of grime (I’ll talk about grime more extensively later in the piece). Aside from road rap, the most recent Trim single, ‘East’, is equally telling.
With the menace, pace and delivery of grime absent, Trim is also leaning further and further into the US realm (and need I even mention Dizzee Rascal’s Iccarus-like fall from grime golden boy to working with Armand Van Helden?) Grime is not the only UK scene to have fallen victim, according to modern theory, to retro. One could equally reference the Detroit/Chicago sound of Gerry Read, the techno throwbacks of recent R&S singles, Joy O, and South London Ordnance, or Boddika/Lone/anyone’s forays into acid, et al, as an indication of the UK’s decline. Yet, while these examples may evidence a cataclysmic (and catastrophic) halt in progression, it would be unwise to ignore other fields in which, I believe, the continuum continues to flourish and prosper.
Simon Reynolds, god bless him, is a central figure in this debate. On ‘Energy Flash’, his blog analyzing the continuum, it is written that "hybridisation, in the digital era, seems to not lead to anything ... something about it's very fundamental constitutive processes (editing, morphing, etc) is inorganic, hence the non-generative nature of the one-off hybrids, the fact that they don't become genres ... there is a momentary agglomeration of all these networked influences ... but it doesn't become a sound that is adopted/mutated/evolved..." I have a problem with this. With regards to a genre’s dispersion and proliferation, juke fulfills all the criteria of organic breeding. Sure, one might argue that juke’s infiltration of UK airwaves and headspaces may be a “momentary agglomeration” that has not developed into a “sound.” But juke’s influence began in 2010 with Addison Groove’s ‘Footcrab’ and continues to rise in prominence to this day in 2012.
Furthermore, juke’s influence has appeared in an incredibly wide array of UK scenes. From the ‘UK Bass’ of Ramadanman’s ‘Work Them’ to the dubstep of Africa Hitech’s ‘Out in the Streets’, to the dark garridge of Sully’s ‘Carrier’ LP, to the hypergloss of Girl Unit’s Erykah Badu remix, to the cracked-house influence of Andrea’s (aka Andy Stott) ‘Retail Juke’, to even Kode 9's most recent material, juke has planted its seed and spread like a rash. Granted, these artists may not constitute a scene, like the footwork scene in Japan for instance, but it certainly does constitute a sound – one that is more than prevalent in UK music at this time. Indeed, this had been facilitated and intensified by DJ Rashad's hard work in the area, continually pushing his sound through EP appearances and remixes.
In conjunction with grime, the last major step in the nuum’s narrative was dubstep. However, with respect to its current inclusion in the nuum, the massively popular brostep has truly midrange wobbled “real dubstep” to its death. Like a phoenix rising out of the ashes of dubstep, ‘post-dubstep’ made a strong case as a contender for the nuum’s throne. As it turned out the genre is simply too weak, too nerdy and saccharine to enter into a dialogue with the likes of jungle or grime. James Blake, Mount Kimbie, Jamie xx, Disclosure, Fantastic Mr. Fox: they all make great music, but it simply does not fit into the ruffneck, badman aesthetic of hardcore.
Indeed, a recent Mount Kimbie show saw two polite young British lads playing their not quite heavy, not quite poppy sound that your mum probably likes and thanking the crowd after every song. This doesnt quite correlate with the narco-hedonism of hardcore now, does it? Seriously, no e-rush was induced until I had left the concert and was jamming Jam City's 'Her' through my iPhone.
Working against this grain are the mysterious LHF collective. How does Mount Kimbie's politness, in both music and attitude, compare with the ragga profession on LDM’s ‘Rush’ of “the most cantankerous, ruffneck, poisonous dubplate you’ve ever heard!”? LHF engage, fundamentally, in both aspects of the hardcore continuum. First, as far as hardcore is concerned, the group qualify insofar as they are underground, anonymous, functional, and behold a DIY aesthetic. Further, they are self-professed “digital pirates,” i.e. the carriers of ardkore’s offshore flame. Indeed, in a recent interview with the Quietus’ Rory Gibbs, the collective described their relationship with hardcore. For LHF, it is the genesis of each scene that is most interesting: “all the scenes in their early stages are an influence. That’s what we associate with more – that freshness, something that’s right on the impulse, alive and unclassifiable.” And it is in this way that LHF make their mark; by both perpetuating and defying the continuum. Second, as far as the continuum is concerned, they are progressive – their most recent material showcases a true post-dubstep sound. Far from the melodic, IDM-leaning noodlings of Blake and co, LHF create a mutation of “real dubstep” (which is difficult to find in, say, Mount Kimbie’s ‘Bave's Chords’).
LHF maintain the bass pressure, sampledelia, ‘dungeon’ vibe and darkness, while the sparsity and minimalism of gold era dubstep is dismissed. The group’s output is dense and almost tangibly, physically rich in texture while equally tuned for the dancefloor. Take as an example the buzzing saw-wobble introduced in Amen Ra’s ‘Essence Investigation’ at about 2:50 .
This is dubstep’s wobble recontextualised and reimagined – its purpose shifted from focus of the song to enhancing addition. Or, as another example, look at the beat on ‘Candy Rain’.
The song shares dubstep’s tempo, snare pattern and fat, stuttered kick, yet, instead of the snare slamming on the third and resonating in gloopy, dank darkness, it is almost bypassed – it’s tinny, highly electronic and bereft of echo and reverb. Another criteria generally, in the postmodern age, used to measure progression is scope of influence – the merging of disparate sounds or genres. Forgive me for missing the Bollywood-step scene (Jammer's sino-grime probably comes closest), but it seems that No Fixed Abode stands alone in his interest in delving into the past and present of Indian music so wholeheartedly.
Indeed, the incorporation of worldly sounds is itself a characteristic of the continuum – No Fixed Abode incorporates Indian music just as reggae, dancehall, ambient, afrobeat et al has infiltrated UK dance music in the past. It is these kinds of innovations, both in the context of hardcore and the context of progression, that contribute to LHF’s claim as Keepers of the Light.
It is ironic that the author of that FACT article, Martin Clarke, is also the co-founder of Keysound Records, LHF’s label. But I think this contributes to my argument. Yes, there is much music that is worryingly retrogressive, but the article shows that Keysound and LHF are awareof this. Crucially, this awareness allows them freedom to do something about it – to continue the continuum and uphold its approach to music.
In addition to the true post-dub stylings of LHF, grime, despite popular discourse (as in Clarke’s article), continues to develop into fascinating areas. Grime is historically situated in cold, harsh sonic textures. This history is displaced by producers Darq E. Freaker and Jam City, who take the genre’s sound to both logical and illogical extremes. Freaker has taken grime’s hard edge and cut out a hip-hop flavoured (not derivative in the manner of road rap) and melodic take on the genre. While his anthem ‘Next Hype’ rings true to grime’s history, singles like ‘Cherryade’ and ‘Next Hoe’ swing and bounce against the rigidity and austerity of old. ‘Cherryade’ features Freaker’s signature massive stabs and the kind of roll that is often bereft in grime, while ‘Next Hoe’ is spiked with the cut-n-paste method of the L.A. beat scene, with ‘woo’ vocal samples and machinegun samples, and features a complex snare-kick combination that is also uncommon in grime.
On the other side, the asceticism of grime has been magnified and both metaphorically and literally exploded by Night Slugs signee Jam City. ‘Her’ is comprised almost entirely of a pounding gunshot and camera shutter sample.
It is brutally and tribally rhythmic as well as robotically futuristic, taking all the sonically cold, minimal and violent aspects of grime and turning them into a hyperbolic seizure. However, Jam City briefly mirrors the catchiness of Darq E. Freaker when the guns are usurped by a bubblegum organ riff in a moment of pure electronic bliss. Tracks like ‘The Courts’, ‘Final Joust’and 'Hyatt Park Nights Pt. 1' take a similar approach to grime – snare barrages and dirty synth sounds are exploded into an ultra-modern metropolis of sound. Like LHF, both Jam City and Darq E. Freaker maintain the hardness of hardcore while simultaneously managing to sound unlike anything else.
Jam City’s labelmate Girl Unit provides an equally progressive take on the continuum, proof provided by his most recent EP ‘Club Rez’. The other night Diffusion set off to see Blawan and Pariah at Goodgod. The night was full of hard, pummeling 4/4 kicks, huge bass drops and largely bereft of synths or vocal samples. At this stage in the development of ‘UK Bass’ there seems to be a fork in the road. On the one hand you have the likes of Blawan and Pariah (and associate labels like Hessle Audio, R&S and Punch Drunk) who have switched up their style from colourful beatwork (Pariah’s ‘Detroit Falls’) and soulful house (Blawan’s ‘Getting Me Down’) to hard-edged, acid-spiked club bangers. On the other hand you have Night Slugs, who function on a very different plane. Where Hessle and Punch Drunk are retro orientated (as much of Blawan and Pariah’s set was), Night Slugs is futuristic. Where Hessle is coldly trance-inducing, Night Slugs is welcomingly funky. Compare, as a visual reference point, the aesthetic of the two labels. Hessle’s mnml record covers reflect their stripped-down approach to music making, while Night Slugs’ colourful, ultramodern sleeves and videos (see Jam City’s ‘The Courts’ or Girl Unit’s Club Rez promo) reflect their choice to pursue brighter, groovier sounds. As Girl Unit recently stated in an interview with Cluster Mag, the artwork is supposed to be “representative of another world.”
Tracks like ‘Ensemble’ elucidate a cocaine fuelled robo-club (just like the one depicted on the album cover) with Bootsy-from-the-future behind the decks. Throughout the EP, like any good producer, Girl Unit deftly balances harsher, grimier themes with the brightness that Night Slugs is known for. Thus, as with LHF, we have a riding of the boundary between hardcore’s past and hardcore’s future. This dialectic leaks into every corner of the release – from texture to melody to structure.
Girl Unit's futurism is further evoked in the language of Philip Sherburne's The Wire review of Club Rez. A writer concerned mainly with genre, he seems to uncharacteristically miss the mark when it comes to Girl Unit. Is 'Double Take' really akin to grime? It's notorious final minute to trance? 'Cake Boss' to Robert Hood Techno? 'Plaza' to latin? I would say absolutely not. Of course, grime, funk, techno, latin and maybe even the t-word are influences on Girl Unit, but these simple classifications are a hugely long bow to draw precisely because the EP is so future; it evades and displaces predisposed genre boundaries rather than fitting neatly into its hole. One might put this down to a matter of subjectivism - Sherburne hears trance and latin, I don't. Fair play. However, I did find this review an outlier for a writer with whom I usually agree. If you look just across the page he reviews Slackk's Raw Mission EP. Comparisons are drawn to OPN, Wiley, Musical Mob - all fine by me. So, when compared to the retro-lean of producers like Blawan and Pariah, or the ease of genre-classification found in Slackk, Girl Unit provides the image and sound of, as DJ Rashad says in his comment on Girl Unit’s ‘IRL’ video, “the future of music.”
I believe that, on closer inspection, the continuum steadily pushes along and that the music of LHF, Darq E. Freaker, Jam City and Girl Unit should be enough to convince a turn of paddle when crossing the river Styx. Indeed, constant lamentations and exhortations of the death of progression only have the dangerous effect of beating down any rising belief in a new sound. Imagine being a young, spritely music enthusiast such as us here at Diffusion. It has become difficult to swallow (post)modern discourse regarding progression when music like this exists – we believe that the future, not the past, lies ahead of us.
I have been a fan of LHF for a long time and only now do I understand why. The mysterious London collective (Aman Ra, Double Helix, No Fixed Abode, Low Density Matter and more) released the first 'Keepers of the Light' volume back in 2009 and back then I couldn't (try as I might) get Tobias to like them as I did. The individual efforts of the artists always failed to impress. What I realise now is that we both saw LHF as a group of auteurs who produced their own musical products for the combined benefit of the group when in fact I had been getting off on the grand ebb and flow of the mix all along, the kind of meta-narrative created by the interweaving of samples and loops and the broader aesthetic picture of the LHF vision. 