Hemlock Recordings At Juno Download

Review: The seal on Hemlock's music is always one of quality, so when they welcome a relative newcomer into their fold, you know it must be something quite special. With a strong digital EP on Discobelle already under his belt, Guy Andrews has been known to those with their finger on the pulse of bass music for a few months now, but this release deserves to see his profile rise considerably; the 808s and woodblock percussion of "Shades" have the spectre of early jungle at its core, whilst maintaining a maturity and restraint that few of his peers doing similar things would be able to muster. "Textures" meanwhile is similarly masterful, skillfully moving from 4/4 techno to a funky-infused bass workout without breaking a sweat.

Review: James Blake wisely returns to square one with Hemlock for a new two-tracker. It's a pleasing sign that he's not ready to get swept away on his own hype, and sure enough the tracks are wonderfully strange and dark. "Order" is little more than dry percussion lolling over hissing, distended hats and drones. "Pan" is more rhythmic, sharpening the ideas within into a clearer sonic image. There's something of a melodic note, and something of a breakdown midway through, but really this is avant-garde. It's a sterling reminder that Blake is an incredibly adventurous artist still finding his way.

Review: The latest offering from the mighty Hemlock sees a new producer enter their stable: Toronto based Nautiluss, whose brooding take on garage provides a more than worthy addition to their catalogue. "Ultraviolet" is a collaboration between Bertie and former Simian and Black Ghosts vocalist Simon Lord under his Lord Skywave alias. As you'd expect from such a collaboration, it's undoubtedly one of the poppier things that Hemlock have released, as Lord's maudlin vocals float atop metronomic handclaps and symphonic pads not unlike something out of a 70s sci-fi soundtrack. Instrumental track "Bleu Monday" on the other hand is far more what you would expect from the label, as swampy bass sits underneath stuttering drums with definite garage leanings. It's nicely accented by a bright kwaito-style melody which rears up at the halfway point before the rhythm rolls into a cyclone at the end.

Review: Pangaea is perhaps the least feted of the Hessle Audio triumvate, given Ben UFO's status as one of the best selectors in the game and David Kennedy's all conquering cross label endeavours. That's no smear on his talent at production however, which most recently saw him contribute a highlight of that excellent Hessle compilation 116 & Rising. Further attempts to redress the balance in his favour are most certainly successful on this, his debut on Untold's Hemlock imprint with two jerking darkside manoeuvres. Described to a tee as the "spirit of 92? via Plastic People", lead track "Hex" burrows a similar path to "Runout", Pangaea's contribution to the aforementioned Hessle compilation. Its release will no doubt please attentive listeners of Rinse FM as it's been soundtracking many a show in recent months. "Fatalist" screwballs even further into rave dementia, as cockney gasps of "Alright? Listen. Listen. Listen" preface the descent into abrasive tones and jerkily nervous percussion.

Review: You can always rely on Ramadanman. The ever-prolific, highly renowned Hessle Audio favourite comes up trumps once again with this beautiful, soulful slice on Hemlock Recordings (the label co-owned by London based producer, Untold, which has seen such luminaries as James Blake, Pangaea and Fantastic Mr Fox pass through its forward thinking, open minded doors already). Inspiring, deeply moving and delicately articulated, "Glut" is possibly one of Ramadanman's most poignant and reflective works to date, with a wailing synth slowly dying and trailing out towards the end. "Tempest" may be familiar to those of you who heard Scuba's 'Sub:stance' mix from earlier on this year. The seven-minute contemplation is initiated by a simple rat-a-tat of wood on metal-sounding timbre. A defiant drum kick interrupts the blissed out subtle euphoria of the first section half way through, marking a movement towards a more punchy, bleepy second phase, yet strangely retaining the ambience that seems to consistently underpin Ramadanman's productions. It's tempestuous, but not entirely tempest-like (there's a distinction to be made here, somehow).