0
tuktak
geplaatst: 13 januari 2009, 19:40 uur
time to run is een ontzettend vette electronische hiphop plaat. uitgebracht in een zeer beperkte oplage die al uitverkocht was voor hij überhaupt te koop was. dat zegt wel iets.
nu las ik een mooie review, die het ongetwijfeld beter heeft kunnen verwoorden dan ik dat kan:
Welcome to the world of Tempa, whose tracks live on the edges of seasons and genres, from clattering bus rides to blooming beds and boxes, office blocks to autumn leaves - weaving hip hop, live instrumentation, funk, jazz and electronic influences as ivy through old brickwork.
The dripping oriental clank of Nightfall Manoeuvres is music for a stand-off. A Ray Harryhausen bone rattling fight on the street corner. Mysterious jazz melodies interplay with an ever - wandering bassline as swords and lighters click into action.
Fall Back is the soundtrack to every stop motion animation of flowers blooming. Triumphant horns call over bounding garden drums, flutes heralding the arrival of a late summer's evening. Imagine Sufjan Stevens' most beautiful moments stripped of melancholy (and lyrics) and reimagined as a club friendly stomp and you're just starting.
Lurching, molasses-thick bass rolls under cinematic synth swathes as the dark wooden clacks of late trains run on through the night. Rollin' is music for gazing out of scratched windows at the edge of town.
In Time to Run, Tempa leads an insect march clicking across jabbing shards of bass, rolling funky keys until the machine gun break that you knew was waiting, holding its breath until the last minute, lays waste to it all.
Elevation is a rising tide of a track; swelling above high rises and recalling the production of Lukid and Flying Lotus. All sounds here are heard from the very depths of the city; clarinet cries reach our ears stretched and fragmented. As the sun sets the distortion builds, and with it the remnants of what was are left floating on the surface.
Lost Souls sounds like the swaying chorus of the wind in winter unsuccessfully machine stamped into place, threads hanging loose and bubbling piano refusing to be stilled. The breathy exhalation of a feeling that won´t be pinned down.
nu las ik een mooie review, die het ongetwijfeld beter heeft kunnen verwoorden dan ik dat kan:
Welcome to the world of Tempa, whose tracks live on the edges of seasons and genres, from clattering bus rides to blooming beds and boxes, office blocks to autumn leaves - weaving hip hop, live instrumentation, funk, jazz and electronic influences as ivy through old brickwork.
The dripping oriental clank of Nightfall Manoeuvres is music for a stand-off. A Ray Harryhausen bone rattling fight on the street corner. Mysterious jazz melodies interplay with an ever - wandering bassline as swords and lighters click into action.
Fall Back is the soundtrack to every stop motion animation of flowers blooming. Triumphant horns call over bounding garden drums, flutes heralding the arrival of a late summer's evening. Imagine Sufjan Stevens' most beautiful moments stripped of melancholy (and lyrics) and reimagined as a club friendly stomp and you're just starting.
Lurching, molasses-thick bass rolls under cinematic synth swathes as the dark wooden clacks of late trains run on through the night. Rollin' is music for gazing out of scratched windows at the edge of town.
In Time to Run, Tempa leads an insect march clicking across jabbing shards of bass, rolling funky keys until the machine gun break that you knew was waiting, holding its breath until the last minute, lays waste to it all.
Elevation is a rising tide of a track; swelling above high rises and recalling the production of Lukid and Flying Lotus. All sounds here are heard from the very depths of the city; clarinet cries reach our ears stretched and fragmented. As the sun sets the distortion builds, and with it the remnants of what was are left floating on the surface.
Lost Souls sounds like the swaying chorus of the wind in winter unsuccessfully machine stamped into place, threads hanging loose and bubbling piano refusing to be stilled. The breathy exhalation of a feeling that won´t be pinned down.
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