Time came when you walked away and left me in shame
Every time I think of you while I sing
Ooh Ooh Ooh Ooh
Ooh Ooh Ooh Ooh
High school scribbles aside, Britto strings his way
to a lullaby of longing. The entire song loops on the
idea of drifting away from those you might have
loved, and seeking compensation in easily available,
inadequate replacements (“neon lights and vacancy
signs”). As familiar as the predicament sounds, it
creates the possibility of being repeated to boredom.
Spaces does venture into this possibility, as it does
feel a bit unremarkable. It is perfectly pleasant, but
misses the hook that extends into memorability.
Sour Ink (Shoals): If the debut
album of this Delhi-based
electronic duo is reflective
of their future productivity,
Shoals deserves a long-
term spot on your playlist.
Brushed, unhurried vocals
pervade these ten songs,
each intensely melodic
and unapologetically
experimental. Clearly,
Utkarsh Varma and
Sidharth Gupta take their time signatures seriously.
No one sonic sensibility stands out, as the duo etch out
diverse and disparate narratives with each track.
Just for a little fun, try splicing each song with
a film, and you will find yourself scrambling
to come up with enough films.
However, the band does not bother with excess. Despite
their exuberant soundsculpting, they stay true to a minimal
aesthetic that is evident in sandpapered lyrics and carefully
curated beat placement. FSC, for example, is devastatingly
addictive with a simple principle of alternation - mad beat,
whisper-and-wink vocals, mad beat. Bad Habit begins with
a clip of dialogue from the Mexploitation film Wrestling
Women, an obscure choice revealing the band’s intentional
auteurism. They choose the strange and inexplicable to
build a world that is never solid or vulnerable enough to be
analysed. You are free to use their hypnagogic wordplay to
strengthen your story, or start chipping out a whole new one.
Sour Ink combines delight and travesty, uncovers a
breathless progression without ever rushing the point.
Personally, I can’t imagine that it would take Shoals
too long to start composing soundtracks for short films
that are built to terrify, overwhelm and addict. Their
sound is built for fervid visual experiences: ones that
are unimaginably memorable, just like this album.
Oora Paaru (Funktuation):
The Lord bless the day on
which Benny Dayal and
his compatriots decided
to create Funktuation,
but Indian Funk is now
a thing and they made it
so. Hitherto known for
Bollywood covers, the
six man ensemble has finally released their first
single, and it is an earworm from the first bar.
Benny Dayal and his boys exhort people to slow down and
take advantage of an incredible life, instead of sheepling
they way through the rat race. While Tamil funk might
seem like an irredeemable oxymoron, Funktuation
makes it seem like a soulmate situation. Dial down some
James Brown, slap it on just a hint of Hancock and you
have fledgeling funk taking over the Indian indie space.
The synths are minimal, serving to support bubbling
syncopation of guitar and bass while Benny bup-bup-
bups out folksy-but-polished Tamil wordplay. Impossibly
catchy, the whole song is built on the sonic premise that
one must continue to bop that head. And one does.
Have the video at hand, because the swag is
great with this one. Disco jackets and retro
signs? Check. A light boogie? Check.
Your cursor on that replay icon? Check.
STEVIE:
There is nothing in the
world that feels as invasive
as a song that slips into the
part of your soul where you
keep your sadness. Stevie’s
debut EP begins with a
song like that. 21 makes
you feel in the midst of
the a muggy, rainy day in
which the drizzle makes it
impossible to see anything
outside the window. The Frank Ocean/Gregory Isakov
touched track triggers an ineffable brand of FOMO,
and you long for things that you never thought of.
The sweet heartache of 21 is followed by the delicious bite
of sudden love (Hey Becky) in which a single piano gives
way to a quick electronic swish and some predictable but
well-placed guitar game. The song itself is inordinately
romantic, and conjures dreams of fluttering pulse and
pleasant nervousness. Burn quivers with sensuous intensity,
following a heady R&B sensibility that is impossible
not to surrender to. Unlike the passive contemplation of
the previous tracks, Burn is a bare-it-all business. Too
Close To Touch plays with the barest idea of funk rock,
displaying a groove to diversify the EP’s aesthetic.
All Night and FADE accomplish the same thing - generate
the soft anguish of deferred desires. True to the intent of
good indie music, Mellow crafts stories that are open-ended
enough for his listeners to transpose their own experiences.
Simultaneously, you couldn’t accuse him of being generic
because it remains amply clear that the stories he sings
are ones he told himself before he set them to sound.
The EP is immensely seductive, drawing it's power from
Stevie’s disarming vulnerability. He is the very image of
the wide-eyed boy who is delighted to sing his heart out.
Instead of drawing the listener into his world, he generously
offers to share in theirs instead. This lends to his work an
uncompromising charm - the kind that comes from having
decided not to try to be anyone but one’s kindest self.
The
Score Magazine
highonscore.com
19