It occurred to me in the half-light of a sticky beer garden on Friday night, while a bearded dude was slurring to me about how much he loves trap, that some people listen to music to simply appear cool. A guy I once met at uni said he only listened to “Japanese folk from the ’80s.” What even is that? Or that friend, that everyone has, who is suddenly into something when it’s popular and tries to tell you she’s always really been interested in it, or those insincere Coachella-goers that did the rounds of the blogosphere. It’s just a sorry state of affairs when there’s a guy giving you the eyeball while simultaneously talking down to you because you said you listen to a lot of “Australian producers” which obviously means that there’s no way you’ve heard of any of the musicians whose names he’s mispronouncing.
Why is it that your taste in music can define the perception of how cool you are? Shouldn’t the music you spend your time listening to be something that actually resonates with you, rather than just a bid for bragging rights? There are simply some things that are more important that what That Dude At The Bar thinks – and, for me, that’s the music that you discover on a late-night downloading bender that make you close your laptop-shaped-eyes and slump over the computer chair in pleasure.
So without further rambling, I present four of my favourite Australian producers who you should listen to. Not because they’re cool or super underground or so-in-right-now, but because, for a moment, their music will make your day burn so much brighter. And if you see that guy from the bar, call him a wanker for me, will you?
Lindsay Tuc
I first heard Melbourne’s Lindsay Tuc while I was Bandcamp-digging last year. The cover art was a low-res picture of a boy in a snow leopard hat, which didn’t quite lead me to expect the evolved minimal house that suddenly flooded into my headphones. It’s hard to put your finger on what exactly it is that *Tuc is making, but in a thoughtful gesture for listeners and music writers alike, he lists the ingredients that went into his debut LP Shoe Box on his page:
“Moog lil phatty.
Clarkes originals shoebox.
Vinyl samples.
Floor boards.
Ableton.”
Make of that what you will. But from the crisp sounds of the first track June, I was completely swept up in all of the intricate details of his music. Since Shoe Box, there is no shortage of *Tuc releases, and his latest The Flaneur, has surely stepped up the game for anyone making deep-house in Australia. Eloquently crafted with snippets of found-sound recordings and with slow burning melodies that are undeniably groovy, the tracks make it impossible to not, at the very least, head-nod. While he’s not making music, David Ricardo runs a small dub-plate cutting business called Cut Records – which you can read about in ACCLAIM Issue 29, Authenticity – and is planning on opening a record store with the THIS THING crew.
Stay up to date with all of his releases over at his Bandcamp or Facebook.
Electric Egypt
Here at ACCLAIM, we have been long term fans of the psychedelic sounds of ΞLə☪ŧrɹ¡ᑦ ∑gビᑭ⏄ – or simply Electric Egypt – since featuring him in Issue 24, Fantasy. He’s like what I imagine Flying Lotus would sound like if he grew up in the remote tropics of Australia surrounded by indigenous music instead of jazz. Since his debut release in 2009, Impressions Of The Inexpressible Invisible – all field recordings and analogue samples, aptly described by the cover of an MPC floating through space – his music has stepped out from the cosmic jungle and evolved into everything from Japanese pop to Italo disco, taking elements from soul music and obscure radio transmissions to create what is best summed up by a sample from the track Bush Mystic: “The place you visit in your dreams, a strange an wondrous place where nothing is as it seems.”
His latest release Exotica, which was entirely created on analogue hardware – and I have no idea how you’d get your hands on that in the tropics – was not only championed by forward-thinking LA radio station Dublab, but features vocals from Stones Throw signee Jonti and was mastered by Leaving Records founder MatthewDavid. Pretty fine pedigree for any experimental music coming out of Aus. After some brief e-mail correspondence with the artist, whose earthly name still remains unknown, he assures me that he’s getting ready to release something new. So before then, get a hold of his back catalogue on his Bandcamp.
Kirkis
Whenever I listen to Kirkis’ debut and bedroom-released purplefruit for xray vision, I imagine this blank canvas, which, throughout the 30-minute soundscape of the album, is slowly covered with textures and colours, ink and paint. One of those artworks that when you look at closely, you admire every minute detail and but from further away forms an entirely different image.
If that’s a bit too vague of a metaphor for you, Matthew Kirkis lives in Melbourne, originally from Sydney, paints alongside his bedroom producing endeavours and his live band consists of Hiatus Kaiyote member Simon Mavin, Leigh Fisher and Luke Saunders. Since the aforementioned band took Rinse FM and Eglo Records’ Alexander Nut to see a live performance, Kirkis has caught the attention of the likes of Giles Peterson and Wax Poetics Magazine, and several more reputable music heads than I have even drawn comparisons with Thundercat and Flylo (!) if you’re into that sort of thing.
While the intricacies of his debut release, all swaying saxophones solos and soft percussion, single out the beauty in the LP, it truly works together to create a cinematic mood: you’re in a smoky prohibition bar in ziggybrew; you’re dancing an off-kilter fox-trot at a Gatsby party in ballad for a venus flower; you’re putting the oompa loompas to bed in willywonka, until you’re looking back at Earth from the moon in disvavvy.
Viewed from any angle, from whichever music journalist you hear it from, and with whatever weird pictures that flood your brain like a acid flashback, Kirkis’ warm sounds, quirky samples and live instruments will not bore you for a moment.
Silent Jay
I first heard the undeniably smooth sounds of Silent Jay on one of those YouTube channels where they post lush music and a blue-hued background, like a starry night sky or more often a half-dressed girl rolling around on an unmade bed with the sunlight streaming in through the window. A little bit ridiculous, really, considering it’s usually made by fully clothed guys in a dark room. But underneath a clear blue sky, tangled in a sheet is exactly where you’d want to be for the latest Silent Jay track Bloom Dance, which for the convenience of this article features Kirkis. Soft hi-hats and a dusky melody make this a stand out track as of late and it comes accompanied with this video you can see right here.
Alejandro Abapo is not only a producer but a saxophonist and vocalist too (and back-up singer for Hiatus Kaiyote) who turned his skills to producing after his DJ uncle gave him his entire record collection. Supporting the likes of Oddisee, a member of discerning music collective-slash-touring company The Operatives and playing at the secret Boiler Room show seems just the usual weekend for Silent Jay and alongside a giant collection of beats and mix-tapes he’s put out, on his Soundcloud it’s impressive to know he’s only been in the scene for the last two years. With seemingly effortless electronic production meeting soulful instrumentals, I’m definitely looking forward to a full-length release from the promising producer.
This is the first entry in Rebecca Florence‘s weekly column on electronic music.