Foodman – Yasuragi Land
Foodman hones and develops upon his signature glitched-out sound on his Hyperdub debut
After years honing his trademark glitched-out warpings of the rhythms of footwork, Foodman makes his bow on Hyperdub with a subtle, warmer reimagining of his sound. In many ways a lot of the record is still the same Foodman; percussion and snatches of synth arranged into tumbling flurries of sound that skitter about like clockwork toys, but, rather than jabbing as his older work was wont to do, there’s a softer more enveloping glow to the arrangements.
Take Hoshikuzu Tenboudai which, with its chaotic marimba lines and bursts of samples mangled beyond any recognition, should be all knees and elbows but somehow comes together into something oddly sleek and welcoming. Yasuragi similarly manages to ping all over the place, never sitting still for a second, but the sense of playful hodgepodge in the various tones mean it's always inviting rather than jolting.
That isn’t to say the record is one-note though; there is enough experimentation with form to fend off any sense of repetition. Numachi has a sinister, almost Weill-ian seasick lurch to it that works to remarkable effect, and when a sample is allowed run they’re spectacular, like the blasts of gospel vocals used towards the end of Iriguchi, which emerging against squelches of synth brass becomes a gently reverential moment. That said, it is one of these stylistic diversions that is perhaps the album's weakest moment. When Ari Ari comes along with its more familiar house rhythm it seems a touch inert compared to the freeform beauty of the rest of the record.
Other than that it’s an assured debut, aware of its own strengths, allowing intricate programming and arrangement to never feel forced and managing that trickiest task of evoking nostalgia without slipping into being cloying.
Listen to: Hoshikuzu Tenboudai, Numachi, Gallery Cafe