J.TRIPP
TELL
SINK
Plenty of artists have monthly radio shows, but not many of them make a point to fill each episode with original music that they’ve created especially for the broadcast. GEORGIA, however, have been doing that for more than 10 years now, inviting listeners to tune in to their All Kind Music show on NTS for an “hour of oddball electronics; whether ambient or fit for the floor…”
Maintaining that sort of regimen comes with all sorts of challenges, but it does mean that the duo of Brian Close and Justin Tripp (a.k.a. J.TRIPP) have amassed quite the collection of unreleased material. And on his new TELL LP, Tripp—whose previous solo output includes albums for labels like Sagome and Haunter—has plucked tunes straight from that archive, revisiting his personal contributions to All Kind Music and assembling a record that’s meant to celebrate the “first thought, best thought” approach that spawned the music in the first place.
With its contents spanning the course of more than a decade, TELL is not surprisingly a somewhat disjointed record, but there’s a lot of charm in its stylistic promiscuity. “Wheels Within Wheels” opens the proceedings with a whacked-out blend of busted piano chords and a lurching, not-quite-hip-hop beat, and just a few tracks later, Tripp drops “Upwelling,” a patient assortment of plucked melodies that sounds something like a deconstructed Mary Lattimore song. With its devotional choirs and spectral textures, “Nowhere Dense”—which also happens to be one of the most arresting tunes on the record—sounds more like a cathedral than the club, but “Vorlage” goes in a completely different direction, its quirky growls evoking both the wobblier corners of dubstep and Luke Vibert-style IDM.
Tripp is American, but he has a clear affinity for British murk. The weightless, bass-heavy churn of “Midden” takes cues from The Bug (and maybe even DMZ), and “Engram” is another steppy, low-end excursion, albeit one that’s decidedly moodier in orientation. “Trace,” meanwhile, harkens back to the haunted heyday of witch house, its ghostly, pitch-shifted vocal fragments recalling the work of Holy Other in particular. Yet it’s probably closing number “Translation (Moving Relics)” that best embodies the spirit of TELL; built atop static-encrusted beats that squelch like boots trodding through a muddy field, it also finds room for disembodied diva refrains, jittery new age melodies and trap-style snare rolls. Like the album itself, it’s all over the place and, at times, a bit of a mess, but it’s also a testament to the notion that under the right circumstances, a little chaos can lead to moments of real brilliance.