Gerry Read creats Patterns

'Patterns'

Instra:metal helped build the bridge between techno and dubstep that, at this point, seems completely natural.  By refining the marriage of techno’s forceful impetus with dubstep’s brooding ethos, Instra:mental (along with Martyn, Shed ect.) helped unite the German and British electronic music scenes, epitomized by tracks like “Vicodine”.  The muffed out, humble kick drum, and the insistent pulse that urges you toward the floor, capture the numb sensation one feels at a party you know you ought to be having fun at but simply cannot.  The occasional clav echoes into nothingness and you remember why you’ve been refusing to join the vacuous party that surrounds you.

Gerry Read’s “Patterns” begins by navigating that same space.  Muffled pulses surround.  Humid textures abound. But rather than submitting to the claustrophobic emptiness of the club, the track walks over to the bar, politely places its drink back onto the bar, straightens up its tie, and jumps headlong into the party.  The synths surge to the top of the mix, thrashing wildly.  It’s difficult to tell whether these are happy or violent movements but one suspects that such distinctions are besides the point.

A plucked melody soon follows, confining that childlike joy one gets from dancing alone and setting it to song.  Discreet depression gives way to dastardly delirium so seamlessly, one wonders why every wallflower beat-head isn’t thrashing about.

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Jack Dixon

Everyone and their mother thinks they can write an epic song.  From the thunderous buildups of electro workouts to the relentless thump of dubstep, it seems like people are leveraging drum rolls and sound effects against musicianship and quality production.

Its like reaching for new heights while losing your footing.  And finding this out about musicians triggers the same lukewarm disappointment kids get when they realize that no, adults do not, in fact, have their nose.

Not everyone can write an epic tune.  Epics are not democratic, they are forces of nature.  Virgil wrote epics.  Not Rusco.  Not Wolfmother.  Not Deadmou5.  And in the end its the music that suffers when we replace substance with drama.  Its important for music to have emotional resonance, but it must possess those qualities based on its own merits and on its own terms, not via some worn out silence-->buildup--> drop convention that stopped being important the exact moment Benny Benassi became a has-been.

On that note, its refreshing to hear soulful garage jams like "Coconuts" by London producer Jack Dixon.  The drums pulse without pummeling, the bass booms without bleeding.  None of the melodrama that characterizes mid-range hyper-compressed wobblestep dares lay a finger on the genuine subtly that this track sports.

Its got a certain summer night swagger.  The drums bounce loosely as the bass hits like a humid breeze, and its all a very classy affair.  This tune is proof that you don't have to be in the eye of the storm to get your feet wet.

Around the two minute mark the bass drops out and a clipped vocal eases into the mix.  The treble's turned up and the dry funk of AM radio's heyday serves as a nice breather.  And then (here's the important part guys) the beat pops back into place.  Perfect. To the point.  Like summer night rain it kinda just happens, and we feel all the better for it.



Coconuts (Original Mix) by jackdixon