Suche:funkin ell

Heavily influenced by Patrick Cowley’s Afternooners, Mark Churcher conjures up a fresh dose of electronic synth-funk under his new moniker, Funkin'ell

With album notes written by Mick Clark of 80s synth pioneers Naked Lunch, this LP is both a nod to the past and a step into something new.

Each vinyl comes with a unique digital download code.

Spiritual Rhythms by Mix’Elle, the fourth release on Portuguese label angel, is particularly special for a couple of reasons: it’s the artist’s first record (a true triumph at that) plus she is a resident at the night series that originated the label itself. It’s truly an all-connected type of affair. This EP taps, in a personal and intentional way, into the very foundations of jungle and drum n bass, taking us on a soulful ride permeated by Mix’Elle’s influences while incorporating her artistic vision, one that was shaped through hours behind the decks in underground drum n bass parties for well over a decade.

The record opens with title track ‘Spiritual Rhythms’, a 174 bpm mantra-like roller clocking in at 6 minutes with the textured pads and the realness you could expect from a Rufige Kru classic. A fat sub underpins it, urgent spoken words remind us what we’re here for: ‘it comes from the drum. and the drum is something spiritual’ as congas play briskly into the groove.

Things slow down significantly for the second track, ‘Angel nights drop tha bass’ - a signature floaty pad and a drum break maintain a steady continuum. A hopeful chord progression is offset by the sharpness of the drums, the bass gluing it all together with the help of an archetypal stretched vocal. Everything is in its right place - a genre veteran is very clearly at work.

‘Touring’ features a mischievous low end, as if a jazzy double bass were played by a dub experimentalist. The funkiness is infectious, with off-tempo string stabs and a mutating filtered breakbeat that feels alive - a vocal pad chants throughout, adding a layer of wide-eyed enchantment.

Percussion never falls short in this record, and the closing track begins with nothing but a shaker, toms and congas - evolving to an elegant, dreamlike yet crisp piece, led by a prominent bassline, its washes and wobbles re-arranging our chakras. Spiritual Rhythms indeed.

angel is a label run out of Lisbon by Violet. A sister label to naive, angel tries to portray the party series of the same name - a bass-led, smoke-drenched celebration where the main room is dedicated to dnb and the second explores adjacent stylistic fringes like dubstep, trip hop, dub or jazz.

I must admit to being a sucker for two-guitar bands. Ok, Hendrix pulled off a trio. But I don’t care what anybody says: The Yardbirds were a better band than anything that came out of them (Ok, maybe not Zep. But Cream?).

Maybe the reason I go back so far in my references is that, within the two-guitar band format, original new roles are difficult and rare. There’s the classic (socially problematic and often boring) “rhythm/lead” solution. There’s the JB’s or Nile Rodgers’ chicken pickin’ vs comping solution (which avoids chordal clashes by relegating one of the guitars to the role of single-note percussion instrument). There’s Ornette’s Prime Time division between Bern Nix’s rolled-off “jazz” tone and Charles Ellerbee’s trebly wah. Almost everything else is a variation on one of these.


In Ches Smith’s record Clone Row, each piece is built around a different concept for guitar interaction. The delightful and gifted weirdness of Mary Halvorson’s playing is counterpointed, contrasted, unisoned with, played off, juxtaposed (that is to say, enters every relationship possible) with Liberty Ellman’s equally amazing sound palette, chops, and imagination. This definitely ain’t your father’s guitar band.
The overall vibe of the record—despite Halvorson’s occasional noise outbursts or Ellman’s distorted guitar lines (see Mixed Fridge) is neither punk/funk, nor Zorn-ish metal—and certainly not the looser parameters of Ornette’s improvised harmolodics. Smith’s vibraphone playing, Halvorson’s guitar tone (whammy pedal squiggles aside), the brilliant electronics, and (most of all) the compositions themselves are somehow strangely West Coast cool. It’s as if I’m hearing a Jim Hall concert in which one of us did a lot of mushrooms, or (dare I write this?) some post-punk post-Dave Brubeck post-trip-hop experiment with classical form.

This recording is, most of all, about Ches as composer. He’s picked up a lot on his long, strange trip of the last few decades. The Haitian funkiness of his work with We All Break is audible—but deeply buried, encoded in the polyrhythms (check out Heart Breakthrough). His long-running side musician collaborations with John Zorn and Tim Berne are also evident but sublimated here into something new.

Not that improvising is absent. Check out the compelling collective statements in Sustained Nightmare and Ready Beat. Check out the brilliant interplay and bass soloing on Abrade With Me (a Weather Report for the age of extreme weather?) Nick Dunston is my favorite bassist of the new generation, and he plays brilliantly throughout. And Ches’ drumming here has all the groove, energy, and incredible range that have kept him in demand from Saturday night Vodou services to jazz and new music recording sessions (…the thinking man’s rock barbarian?).
The sus chords in Abrade With Me do build, for a moment, towards a fusion type of climax...but just at the moment I was gritting my teeth in anticipated defense against some horrible synth solo, the drums drop out, and we’re transported to the ambient lounge at the rave, and we suddenly understand we’re in the hands of a composer with the power to transport us just about anywhere.
So, this is a composer’s record most of all; a composer’s record performed by musicians who happen to be great improvisers. Ches Smith builds here on his reputation as a gifted new voice with an important vision, while showcasing some of the most creative musicians of our time.