Introduced to me by another critic of such things as “the worst album Warp have ever released”, you’ll forgive me not dropping everything to listen to the third album from Tim Exile, new to the label after two previous releases for Planet Mu.
However, ‘Listening Tree’ isn’t quite the abomination I was led to believe it would be – sure, the man born Tim Shaw doesn’t exactly tear up the rule book in his approach to fairly routine IDM and D&B, when touching upon said bases, but there’s ambition on show that does raise this long-player above throwaway fare. That said, it certainly has its share of skip-worthy material.
Said moments come mainly when Exile/Shaw opens his mouth: his lyrics are banal in the extreme – listen to opener ‘Don’t Think We’re One’ and its collection of clichéd metaphors and don’t cringe – and the deadpan baritone delivery primarily plays out as a muddled homage to Dave Gahan and Philip Oakey. If that wasn’t a strong enough suggestion of atmosphere, the record’s style often taps into dreary ‘80s nostalgia, saved only by flourishes of creativity that, if they weren’t so weighed down by the mediocrity around them, would combine to present a thoroughly admirable EP-length offering.
‘Fortress’ is saved from failure by chirpy Caribbean-flavoured percussion – less guns and ganja, more Secret Of Monkey Island – and instrumental tracks ‘There’s Nothing Left Of Me But Her And This’ and ‘When Every Day’s A Number’ attract parallels to labelmates Hudson Mohawke and Squarepusher respectively, all of which equals a worthwhile listening experience. The album’s lead single, ‘Family Galaxy’, is also an intriguing piece, one part Outkast slow-motion beats to two parts Depeche Mode misery. The fractured vocal delivery isn’t half as effective as Exile will have hoped for, but sounds more natural than similar contributions elsewhere – words fit between the beats with precision, serving to enhance cadence rather than sit atop any accompaniment. Plus, with about two minutes remaining, the whole thing flashes back to the mid-‘90s, turning into ‘You’re Not Alone’-sorts Olive as reimagined by Goldie before that whole ‘Mother’ debacle.
But for all its glimpses of greatness, the suggestion that the design was far grander than the results, ‘Listening Tree’ delivers so little consistency that it’s tough to come away from the experience with a decent regard for its maker’s efforts, let alone anything approaching a love of his achievement. Suffice to say it’s probably not the worst Warp album of all time – although having not heard every album the acclaimed label has issued, I can’t be totally sure – but neither is it, as the lead quote on the press release proclaims, the work of “the new David Bowie” (good one, De:Bug magazine).
Somewhere between the two extremes lies the truth, if you fancy finding it.
