Producer's second LP is sugary enough, but lacks bite...
Rustie - Green Language

From a hyper electro/new-skool bass setting, Scottish producer Rustie’s 2011 album ‘Glass Swords’ extracted a genuine euphoria found raving on the verge of the celestial, and later in TV adverts and video games. Imitating prog-rock grandeur with keyboard­stacking personality, 8­bit pixels got dunked in energy drink, and maximal vibrations embraced accusations of cheese­mongering.

The colours of ‘Green Language’ aren’t found fading. The swords certainly do not stay sheathed. But rather than re­scale the former’s crystal peaks, Russell Whyte works to infect these highs – his ride that was all about the stained-glass sunroof is now fitted with blacked-out windows. With the Scooter­ish intro of ‘Raptor’ showing there’s still nowt ‘appier than ‘ardcore, the trap booms beneath indicate where the rainbow­coloured crossfire is heading second time around.

Though ‘Glass Swords’ dabbled with trap on ‘City Star’, ‘Green Language’s jarring lash­outs (fronted by grime heavyweight D Double E and US rapper Danny Brown) facilitate grimy comedowns that are conspicuous by their lack of intricacy and agility. Dead­eyed melody and stodgy Roland 808s empty the fun from glowsticks and use them as blunter weapons instead. Good and unruly, even if the Gorgeous Children­led ‘He Hate Me’ lopsidedly sounds like it’s struggling up an incline.

Fans concerned with the tarnished gloss should be more narked by the album’s moments of lethargy, plonked in the midst of teetering expectation. ‘Velcro’ wraps old Daft Punk in dull daytime dubstep, and ‘Lost’ underwhelms with its softly sleazy vocoder use. As beautifully bated as ‘Paradise Stone’ and ‘Let’s Spiral’ are, they’re little more than interludes within a lean half-hour slot. The sugar is here, but teeth will get itchier.


Words: Matt Oliver

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