Down at heel club-not-club sleep-paralysis realism from Thomas Bush and Guy Gormley
Could it be that some time in 2010, via goofy art-guy humour and drugged-out pop ritual, Hype Williams managed to open up some kind of gate to a parallel Unbritain? And since then have a bunch of associated artists (Gast, Lolina, Dean Blunt, Thomas Bush etc etc) been able to slip back and forth bringing the news from nowhere with them?
If so this record, by Bush and Guy Gormley as RAP, starts to make a lot more sense
Rhythms that owe a debt to grime, drill, hard techno and trap prop up wheezy White-Dwarf synths, bleary eyed Dondestan-worshipping vocals and some serious bass weight. Theres a dystopian malaise at work. Black mould creeps up the wall, condensation smears the windows and wet books refuse to burn. At first this doomed atmosphere seems all encompassing, but dig deeper and new levels of addictive detail emerge along with a certain arch but inclusive playfulness.
Maybe all pop sounds like this on the other side?