I made a terrible mistake when I first got this LP: I played it on my laptop speakers. That’s not the straight up foolishness you might think, mind – after downloading something for review I’ll often play it quietly in the background while I catch up on admin, because it can be a good way of getting the general shape of an album, an overview as it were, before properly diving into it. But for this album in particular that really didn’t work.
Sam Shepherd aka Floating Points is a virtuoso producer – and one of the world’s best DJs, which has taken him on a consistent upward trajectory parallel to that of his UK near contemporary Kieran “Four Tet” Hebden in playing to big dance audiences worldwide. And this album is very much playing up to those big crowds: most of it is characterised by hefty, high-velocity four-to-the-floor kickdrums, chugging arpeggiated synths and dramatic build-and-drop structures – and if you’re not paying attention it can all sound a bit obvious, a bit grandiose, even a bit crass. Hearing these constant ups and downs over and over, I thought Shepherd was shedding the subtlety of his previous releases and leaning towards what is pejoratively called “business techno”.
I should have known, of course, that he of all artists is not someone to compromise his craft. Shepherd is the man who is so dedicated to sonic detail that before he was 30 he’d put his name to audiophile DJ mixer equipment, who cites Debussy, Messian and Bill Evans as influences, and produced Pharaoh Sanders’ exquisite final recordings. Listening on proper speakers and headphones this album instantly reveals untold detail across the spectrum that makes all those rave dynamics open up into a kaleidscope of sound and psychedelic detail. The steadiest groove sections are full of undulations and subliminal sounds that maintain interest, and even those grand breakdowns and rushes are so finely balanced in their frequencies that they’re elegant as well as providing a physical thrill.
The album really comes to life later on, with the Chemical Brothers meets Kandinsky acid house psyche rock breakbeat surge of “Afflecks Palace”, the delicately frayed drum’n’bass of “Tilt Shift” and the ambient coda of “Ablaze”. And the variation among these latter does somewhat bring home that he has used the same dynamic tricks (notably sounds piling up dramatically before cutting back to a kickdrum and bass) quite a few times through the stomping earlier tracks. This is definitely an album that requires a particular mood – it’s not going to soothe many jangled nerves, put it that way – but if you need an energy boost in your life, then getting it with the bonus of such remarkably detailed and expertly crafted textures is the way to go. Just make sure you play it as it's meant to be heard.
Listen to "Key 103":
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