Now based in London, Perez has established his label Tremisc Recordings, a vessel to further his expression of his experimental take on techno alongside his own fresh productions and DJ escapades. In Room Two they’ve invited Italian protégé Vincenzo Perez, whose psychedelic yet minimalist palette has been honed by years of sound engineering focussed study in Naples. Thanks to the extra work-free day Cormac, Peter Pixzel and Jacob Husley get to open up the rest of our Farringdon based home to allow in even more of their hand-picked techno talent to expand the party beyond its usual Room One restriction. If so, let’s bury the Postal Service and have Lusine play at their funeral.We’re fast approaching the third Bank Holiday special of the season from the WetYourSelf! camp. Maybe, as its title suggests, we’ve been waiting, looking in completely the wrong places for another large-scale record of this order. The Waiting Room hangs together as an affecting portrait of electronic music’s possibilities. For the majority of The Waiting Room, it’s a seamless journey from could-be club hits (“Lucky”) through Krautrock roots (“By This Sound”) and back to electro-pop (“Get the Message”, “Without a Plan”) without any of that trendy, soulless Dubstep. From the tone-setting description of “Panoramic” - an expansive opener that builds up layers after a slow fade-in - to the closing statement of “February” - a seven-minute opus that sneaks into your subconscious - McIlwain has drawn a map for other artists to follow and for listeners to absorb. McIlwain, the electronic maestro behind the boards. McIlwain’s undeniable vocal turns, the architect is Mr. (Track six, or Side B, first song.) Welcome to the comedown, just don’t expect to be let down easy.ĭespite Ms. It’s a bittersweet love song placed at peak time within The Waiting Room’s structure. (Better than the original? Dare I suggest it?) But it’s the resigned, way in which McIlwain intones, “I move without a plan,” that captures plenty of ennui and resignation. Opting for a cover in an already-strong album means you better bring something new to the table, and they do. But hearing McIlwain slyly sing, “I loosen my wallet just for you/ don’t do me any favors” is borderline revelatory. Part of Bernard Sumner’s attractiveness has always been the ease with which he tosses off accusatory lines and “Get the Message” has plenty of missives. The stunners are McIlwain’s reconditioning of Electronic’s “Get the Message”, and the weary, melancholic destination of “Without a Plan”. “By This Sound” and “Another Tomorrow” are elevated above mere ambient status into the realm of electro-pop royalty - areas currently inhabited by Grimes, Purity Ring, and Washed Out. McIlwain and those five tracks are inherently attractive because of McIlwain’s beatific feminine presence. Sonically and instrumentally, there is more than enough to admire, but the extra bonus on The Waiting Room are the sublime vocal contributions from Sarah McIlwain, an extra layer of adornment piled on an already substantive record.Įxactly half of The Waiting Room contains vocal contributions from Ms. ![]() Pick out any number of elements that coalesce into an impressive whole: the breadth of styles McIlwain demonstrates deep understanding of, the tiny electronic flourishes that go unnoticed without headphones, the climactic sequencing of the tracks. He’s got a list of albums and LPs to submit for evidence of his talent, yet, The Waiting Room, despite its initial slow burn, may be his finest. ![]() ![]() Matthew Dear, Mux Mool, Phantogram, and Lusine, the singular vision of Texas musician Jeff McIlwain, an electronic manipulator more than capable of creating albums that can expand your aural sense while planting hooks in your cerebral cortex. But enough about the Postal Service - I did not come to praise it, I came to bury it in the wake of Lusine’s The Waiting Room.įrom the label that may as well be the standard-bearer for innovative electronic-based music, Ghostly International houses consistently creative artists who are criminally underrated in popular music. When songs are chewed up and spat out with the rapidity of a microwave lunch, ten years is an eternity to still give a damn about an album of electro-pop. ![]() That’s not a statement of incredulity rather, a statement of disbelief. Ten years later and we are still commending the Postal Service’s single album, Give Up.
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