What with the whole 2016 trend towards ‘deconstructed’ club music (we blame all those restaurants serving overpriced ‘deconstructed’ sandwiches), it can feel refreshing when a producer comes along with a little less shame about producing something supposedly wholesome.
Unfortunately — though he does get marks for some of the drifting ambient moments on the record — Sage Caswell has gone a little too far down the ‘constructed’ route with this album, and ended up with something uncomfortably identikit.
There are flat 4x4 kicks, delayed snares, unimaginative pad loops and predictable song structures throughout. You think the only thing its missing are some characterless, disembodied female vocals until ‘31514726 (Step 2)’ comes along.
The odd moment does hint at the possibility that maybe it would be worth tuning back in; ‘Zora Scales (Part 1)’ has hints of a Basinksi-esque build to it.
However, despite the grandeur-aping track titles — ‘Here We Guard Upon The Soul’ probably takes the biscuit in this instance — the whole thing just feels a little aimless.
Not in an enigmatic, shoegazing way either: it’s a lot more dull than that. This is Topman lobby/advertise your expensive transparent alcoholic drink here/‘what shall I use to soundtrack my endless GoPro cycling video?’ house music.
Words: Will Pritchard (@Hedmuk)
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