Daniel Avery - Drone Logic
Anticipated debut LP from Fabric resident has a listenability that feels anything but calculated
With expertise gleaned from years as a Fabric resident, some might have expected Daniel Avery's debut album to be a disparate collection of club tracks ruthlessly engineered for maximum dancefloor impact. While Drone Logic contains a few of these, it also reveals his roots in indie, shoegaze and guitar culture and is full of electronic music that feels anything but calculated.
Of course, the expertly-crafted machine funk of album centrepieces 'All I Need', 'Drone Logic' and 'Water Jump' could easily be the highlight of any dancer's month, but placed alongside delicate ambient sketches 'Platform Zero' and 'Spring 27', Drone Logic has a listenability as (wait for it) an album shared by crossover releases such as Leftism, Dubnobasswithmyheadman or The Field's From Here We Go Sublime.
Drone Logic doesn't stray far from straighforward melodies and four-on-the-floor - and doesn't need to. The single riff throughout 'All I Need' is there purely to hang some funky hi-hat patterns from. The 2-note riffing of 'Free Floating', channelling the acid electro of Drexciya, could easily last longer that its 6 and a half minutes. It's listenable, but the immediacy of the crisp production (the album was mixed by Phantasy Sound boss Erol Alkan) means this also sounds like body music made with maximum utility in mind. Economical, stripped-down arrangements mean that, when they do arrive, the analogue squelches and synth-through-guitar-pedals squalls really take centre stage, especially on the heavy-lidded, druggy euphoria of the title track. The occasionally cliched vocal interjections, ('All I Need', Acid' and 'Taste It' intones a pitch-shifted voice) if anything, only serve to break the spell, placing you firmly in the loaded mental space of 'clubland', full of connotations that much of this music transcends. An album that goes some way to break down the divide between electronic music and everything else, Avery might have created that most old-fashioned sounding of things: a musical journey.