(09.03.07) Scott Monteith’s fourth Deadbeat album sees his sonic enquiry move away from the ambit of his Montreal-minimal re-takes of the Berlinesque dubbings of Rhythm & Sound and early Pole. The “Journeyman” reference may be seen as containing within it, in addition to its customary craftsman denotation, a connotation of trans-national wandering (pointed by certain early track titles). Monteith’s recent travels have doubtless influenced this paradigm shift to floor-fill over soul-chill, to shake-your-booty over Fela Kuti. In fact, there are times when a feel of dance mix prevails, rhythms invariably propulsive, bass presence, prominent enough on earlier work, further lifted and sub-loaded. The opening two tracks continue on from the previous New World Observer staging post, though their crab-like two-step shuffle soon take on a uptempo ragga trajectory on “Night Train to Paris”, and Monteith’s early-period minimal techno and ambient sensibilities, though present, are not quite correct, being rapidly steamrollered by a higher wind from Jamaica via Montreal’s dancefloors.
The opening fog-bound swirls of “Lost Luggage” are suddenly swiped through by crisp snare-shot and hi-hat, oneiric atmospheres and trapped voices (bespeaking Burial) ushering the listener into a surprising slow-and-low dubstep derivative, primeval bass surge portending woefully wobbling woofers; outland melodics further point linkage with sub-low practitioners like Kode9. “Melbourne Round Midnight” pursues a similar moodscape though more stripped down and with a more overt Kingston connection through a generic off-beat reggae-skank on the keyboard. Were this digi-dub meets dark-chillout orientation to be extended, all would be well, but the story of the remaining trip is one of hi-jack and re-routing to a modernized dancehall soundclash. “Refund me” takes the same groove as “Night Train to Paris” and hardens it, bringing in grime-streaked Bristolian Bubbz to paste blood-and-fire babble over the track’s controlled frenesy. “Where has my love gone” clings stubbornly to ragga-rhythmics, though stretching it more appealingly back towards technoid and ambient colourings, rolling a string-pluck and electric piano figure across drone-smeared percussive substrata. This offers a glimpse of what the new Deadbeat brew might be at its best, but hereinafter things start to take on an air of water-treading, seeming content to turn the same tricknology with different tricksters, resting over-indulgently on laurels, peddling remake-remodel productions. “Deep in Country,” for example, hosts Moral Undulations, a somewhat righteous testifier, reciting sullen Last Poetics over a by now flagging dancehall-techno hybrid groove. Still not satiated, “Turbulence” revisits, accentuating different rhythmic aspects brewed in a dubwise percussive mash, coming on more heavy mannered with the sub-bass thrum and dissonant keys. More of the same follows. On “Gimme a Little Slack” Jah Cutta assists Monteith in tearing the roof off the dub-ragga sucker, with further low-end mayhem and quasi-Moroccan percussive pummelling. The vocals are, for better or for worse, very much a feature of this album, meaning those averse to rapping, toasting, and various shapes of MC-recital are unlikely to take Journeyman’s Annual to their hearts. “Gimme A Little Dub” retools the cut, with Cutta cut out, supplanted by some more engaging instrumental stabs, its upfront ethno skin-slapping calling up the ghost of Bryn Jones’s Muslimgauze and traces of Maghreb-referencing UK post-dubstepper Shackleton. “Loneliness and Revelry” finally cools it down, taking the same rhythmic elements and assembling them with a different kinesis to put a more sneaky skank back into what had become a somewhat predictable locomotion. Bonus track in the form of a remix of Saul Williams’ “Black Stacey”, apparently a favourite from his live sets, serves only to underline and bold observations made earlier in regard to Monteith’s over-reliance on recycle and recital.
All in all a sharp collection, Journeyman’s Annual displays a move from the more vaporous ambient dub of Something Borrowed Something Blue, through the more earth(l)y eclectic world-trip-hop and two-step of New World Observer,
to something closer to a ruffed up mainstream dancefloor. In this respect
it may win over some new followers, but the critical reservation here is
that the atmospheric resonance and textural adventure of Deadbeat’s musical
matter has waned in inverse proportion to the development of his production
prowess.
Journeyman’s Annual is out now on ~scape. [Purchase
- ~scape
- Deadbeat
