Depending on how your mind is fixed, you may process Al Tourettes' unique brand of electronic music as a physical, energetic kind of rave music, or you could find yourself postulating on the dense intricacies that his sonic life-forms contain. Such is the dualistic nature of the Bristol-based producer. It's true that Al Tourettes, as the life's work of Alec Storey, was born out of the vibrant free-party scene of Norfolk (also the launch pad for the infamous Bloc Weekender amongst other UK electronic gems), and those roots in bass-heavy techno boom and pulse throughout his tracks, but this isn't simple soundsystem fodder. If there was one defining quality to Al's craft, it would be funk, the kind of crazed, psychedelic, booty-shaking gospel as laid down by Parliament in the '70s. That's a sound that re-manifested itself throughout the decades as the electro backbone of early hiphop in the 80s, the aquatic machinations of Drexciya in the 90s, and even the omni-limbed freakouts of Autechre. Al represents the next logical distillation of these principles, running his own brand of funk parallel with the contemporary bass music landscape after the dubstep explosion, but never quite fitting into it.
Since making his release debut in 2006, the Tourettes output has come slow and steady for Al, with appearances ranging from Sir Real's electro-bass stable (k)rack-troni(k) to long-time studio compadre Appleblim's Apple Pips imprint. Certainly the remixes he and Mr. 'Blim have cooked up for Planetary Assault Systems and Axel Boman amongst others have helped Al reach a wider audience, but his uncompromising and unclassifiable sound has ensured any accolades arrive on his terms. It's a brave artist who gets commissioned to reinterpret the work of Tchaikovsky for a Hollywood movie (the Oscar-winning Black Swan) and turns out the kind of disorientating delerium that wound up soundtracking Natalie Portman's first (fictional) ecstasy experience.
While the recorded music may have been carefully dissipated over time, the live experience is the only real way to get a handle on just how much music Al makes. Even a space as short as four weeks can yield a completely new collection of tracks, loops, skits and grooves, mercilessly wielded and propelled at the crowd to inspire dance moves people never knew they had inside themselves. Far from the dry, uninspiring automation of so many 'live' sets, Al's performances shudder and shake with the vitality of human control, no more apparent than in his razor-sharp battery of his drum pads. With the surface barely scratched on what Al Tourettes' ever-active mind can conjure up, from the absurd and grotesque to the elegiac and beautiful, one can only advise you keep the name locked, your mind open and your ass ready to follow.
