We think that photo’s her. It was on her MySpace, anyway…
Tal Rosenberg: I’m definitely curious how this made it into here, seeing as that it’s even more electronic-oriented than even the danciest tracks reviewed on SJ. But this is cool! Evenly spaced hard-hitting drum punches and little keyboard gasps. Subdued male diva house vocals sending it back twenty years. This doesn’t quite have the dramatic release of a great house jam, but it fits comfortably as a transition track in a DJ set. Solid.
Michaelangelo Matos: Super-bare throwback house — all the way back to 1987 or so, when Hercules was telling you to physically touch the body in front of you while everyone else’s pianos went wild and the programmed bass lines thunk-thunk-thunked and the acid squelch was just beginning to take off. This is nice and sleazy: electro-handclaps, stark percussion, one-finger keyboard-bass riff, and a vocal riff (“Just enjoy yourself, get high on the end of day, yay-yay”) all calling up the feeling of those old Trax and DJ International records as well as their sound, even as the production gets glossier and dubbier as it progresses.
Chuck Eddy: This space and echo and disembombied yet still somehow humane vocals here remind me a little of what artsy New York dance weirdos like Arthur Russell and the Peech Boys and Strafe were doing in the early ’80s, a couple years before house music exploded. That’s good, and the sounds in the song definitely evolve as they go along, too. But I still can’t get excited about it; can’t shake the feeling that, by now, what’s going on here is somehow generic — or, at very least, that it’s not inventing anything like those ’80s guys were. I reserve the option, though, to be swayed one way or the other if the Jukebox consensus says it’s great or worthless.
Martin Skidmore: Tech-house of a deep sound, almost like a dubby, spacey Inner City sound a lot of the time. I know nothing of her other than that she is Turkish, and nothing at all of the Guests, but I really like this. The singing is kind of spacey too, and the whole thing, despite being rather minimal and technical, has an appealing warmth and mellowness.
Anthony Easton: Pleasant, decorative, anonymous, in a barely post disco kind of way.
Kat Stevens: This would fit neatly on a mix between some classic Chicago House and a 2007 Claude Von Stroke track; the huge gaps where nothing happens would be perfect for plonking something a) muckier b) more banging over the top of that lovely bassline.
Doug Robertson: This’ll probably be pretty decent if they ever get round to actually finishing it.
Tom Ewing: Languid house workout offering you plenty of time to admire each passing snare – very far from unpleasant, though after politely declining one request to get high on the energy (what energy?) I’d prefer not to be asked again.
Mark Sinker: “Energy” sung with a good hard g; everything else shaped to that. I assume this type of retro process-house has a snappy species name so that fans don’t wander into the wrong club on the wrong night on the wrong drug. Replicant percussion all tantalus rigour: not life-like, exactly not, but stronger-seeming for the consciously inadvertent mimicry of life.