We couldn’t leave 2012 without returning once more to Whitney…
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[7.73]
Ian Mathers: Look, I don’t really care how we got here, Julianna Barwick’s vocals + a classic break + a climax that sounds a bit like Fuck Buttons = a very happy me.
[8]
Patrick St. Michel: The rise of sites like SoundCloud and Bandcamp have allowed many bedroom-based producers to share their batshit, genre-blurring songs to anyone interested in hunting them down. This year alone, I’ve heard musicians from Tokyo to Moscow to Torrance hunting down whatever catchy R&B vocal hook they can find so they can manipulate it and put it over some maximalist sounds. This remix courtesy of Elite Gymnastics does this particular strain of homemade production well, featuring a driving jungle beat, the wispy wordless singing of Julianna Barwick and a sped-up Whitney Houston. Critically — and what separates this from so much popping up on my SoundCloud dashboard — is how Elite Gymnastics keep everything balanced, never allowing the track to get to hyperactive. It does, though, feature a great moment of release that makes it even better.
[9]
Josh Langhoff: This is gorgeous, shimmering, opulent, all that magical Cinderella stuff — as though Future, the noted multitasking clothes horse, walks out of an expensive furrier he can finally afford, smiles big, and throws his arms wide to the world while the sun comes out at the same damn time. And then someone runs up and throws a can of paint on him.
[9]
Kat Stevens: TICK BOX to order this exclusive dolphin Magic Eye picture (RRP £9.99) today!
[7]
Alfred Soto: Too stuck in 1996, I was going to write, until the hideous-beautiful shriek at the 2:45 mark.
[5]
Will Adams: Oh man, the first two minutes had me in love. Distant piano chords dusted with drum and bass beats and a Whitney Houston sample that manages not to be over sentimental? Beautiful. I wouldn’t have minded the DJ’s interjection, “Cut the midrange, drop the bass,” if that’s actually what happened. Instead, a treble banshee swoops in and scares away everything but the piano. Impressive if only for its massive transformation of the original.
[6]
Zach Lyon: I’ve taken to listening to this back-to-back with the original Korallreven/Julianna Barwick track, and now I can’t listen to either on their own. So this is sort of a review of an imagined 8-minute suite, though it’s not my fault they sound so much like Part 1 and Part 2. This was already classic before I could place the sample that makes it worth replaying, realizing that it’s taken from one of my favorite songs of all time is what secured the perfect score. And of course the wail: “cut the mid-range, drop the bass” is a clever excuse to remove both and leave only a handy harpy shriek. “Sa Sa Samoa” sounds like morning, and for its climax Elite Gymnastics engineer a nightfall from which it can rise.
[10]
Katherine St Asaph: The whole world wakes at once: percussion exulting, pianos tinkling, pads cooing, Julianna swooning, Whitney hoping, Mario jumping (yes?), somebody whispering, another somebody whooping, samples interrupting, guns blasting and metal grinding, water gurgling, a man booming, and finally me.
[8]
Iain Mew: Ecstasy three different ways: as floating in a tranquil bubble, as a shot of energising noise, as “somebody who loves me” speeded up as far as it can stand. The three coexist, if don’t entirely complement. It doesn’t make me need to hear the original, which I mean as a good thing.
[7]
Jer Fairall: The relentlessness (and retro-ness) of these beats and the prettiness of this piano refrain compliment each other so oddly and so beautifully that its a damn shame when the whole thing takes a turn for the noisy and menacing 2/3 of the way through. And given that that whole “1999” Robo-Satan voice thing is already here, redundant too.
[6]
Brad Shoup: The Paradise Garage/The Muzic Box/The Velfarre/The Hacienda/The Labyrinth/The Baia Degli Angeli/I’ve never been to any of them. 2012 has been my most hermetic year since I was a freshman, loading my hard drive with All Music Guide–recommended cuts. Andrew took jobs at two different libraries, so we had to suspend the bimonthly vinyl evenings. Jacob’s neck-deep in his science fiction career, so no more collaborative YouTube playlists at 4 a.m. for now. I burned out on festivals, update my Tumblr at odd hours, and have but one regular conversation partner on Gchat. And yet I remain as delighted by music as ever. Not yet too old to dance, still able to grin when the shrieking buzzsaw answers the command to “cut the midrange, drop the bass,” still exhaling when her “whoo!” stands in for mine. For what it was, 2012 was OK. I’d like next year to sound like this.
[10]