Head Ii Electronic & Dance 2 Items

Ambitious, complex and hooky breakthru opus by NW english rapper/producer/songwriter Rainy Miller, issued by The White Hotel’s Head II label and featuring contributions from Space Afrika, Blackhaine, Maxwell Sterling, Jam City, Georgia Ellery, Henzo and more. Highly emotive and bruised gear, it’s essential listening if yr into Future, Chief Keef, Drake, more eaze, Rabit, Wayne Phoenix, Iceboy Violet, Kanye, Burial…

No doubt it’s the most cinematic depiction of what makes Rainy tick, with a choral prologue that sounds like a Burial vignette, precipitating a downpour of emotions that veer from tender to seething bass-boosted drill blowouts. The slippery combo of self-skewering and tearful Autotuned vocals and brittle, barely-present electronics immediately and inarguably recall Kanye’s 808s & Heartbreak, but here refracted into greyscale tales of Northern introspection, confidently torched 'n bleary-eyed industrial experiments.

Miller's best known at this point for his work with his college compatriot Tom Heyes (aka Blackhaine), whose ragged drill/power electronic subversions loom large over "Desquamation". But where Heyes zeroes in on viscera, isolation and substance-fueled rage, Miller's compositions are more pensive, melancholy and emotionally fluid, finding hopefulness in supposedly grim terrain on tracks like 'There's A Fiesta MkII On Fire'. "A Fiesta burns bright," he sings, accenting the last word as it collapses into chattering electronics and snatched Rhodes piano loops. It's a glorious amalgamation of influences, folding grime and ambient signals into something altogether new. From here, Miller pushes even further into the abyss, enlisting Space Afrika and Maxwell Sterling to assist on 'Breath, Sigh', a powerful symphony of sheet noise, ice-cold pads and soulful electric piano weaving around Miller's vulnerable voice.

On 'July Iii', the beats are reduced to pinpricks, heaving listlessly between stolen breaths and punctuated kick blasts, ‘while Misery is as Misery Does' revels in negative space, allowing overdriven pads to evoke an anxious tenor for Rainy’s melancholia. 'is 2 Die' grazes the same mood before erupting into a wrecking-ball roll of distorted kick drums and elegiac synths, and Blackhaine shows up on 'Way Out', the pair following 2020's breakout "Armour" with a corrosive back-and-forth, playing to each others' strengths.

Benefiting massively from repeat listens, ‘Desquamation' is an absorbing, deliriously atmospheric re-definition of drill, ambient and rap modes with bare north west soul; an arresting portrait of an ascendant artist attempting to find comfort in their artistic skin, and effectively broadcasting the malaise, uncertainty and future shock of the British working class thru this f*cking grim time of ours.

‘And Salford Falls Apart’ is the searing 2nd EP of cinematic drill noise by North West polymath, Blackhaine; five tracks staging a brutalist, exhaustive expression of disaffection with life in a post Brexit England of the early 2020s, and paying witness to a genuinely prodigious talent coming into its own. It’s no doubt a massive recommendation to anyone who can join the dots between North West England’s resoundingly rich history of punk/post-punk, electro, rap, and rave electronics into the hard present. Between the stomach-knotted dread of its opener ‘Saddleworth’, the caustic fulmination of its Rainy Miller-produced title track, and the magisterial poise of parting shot ‘Let Me Know’; the EP sees Blackhaine develop a more personalised, storytelling articulation of life in the precariat; drawing on the experience of unsatisfying jobs and a love of social-realist film (the eponymous La Haine), surrealist literature (Samuel Beckett), and road level, punk-spirited music - from John Lydon’s formative post-punks PiL, to the bruxist, staccato delivery of donk MCs - to wrest a vital, remediating energy from the void. Now pronounced with a broader range of poetic and textural tekkerz, Blackhaine’s sound is deeply gratifying and absorbing in its psychic purging and knife-edge urgency. Its incursions on the no-person’s-land between detuned drill, noise, and industrial ambient paradigms are as vital as they come at the start of a new, foreboding decade - baldly resetting boundaries and rekindling a fire in the gut-level consciousness of rap and punk musicks that echoes the North West’s indefatigable spirit, and likewise spearheads a crucial new movement beside the likes of Space Afrika, Rainy Miller, and Croww. When factored by his uncanny gift for physicality, as inspired by traditional Japanese butoh dance and petrified city centre spice heads, Blackhaine’s art patently refuses, as much as acknowledges, the pressures of the times. A vital new working class voice demands your attention right here.