Sneaker Social Club Breaks | Breakbeat 4 Items

The legendary Horsepower Productions return to Sneaker for a thematically charged trip into future zones, driven by dexterous breakbeat science and ruffneck soundboy wisdom.

The UK dubplate heavyweights are no stranger to a loaded sample, and they’ve got a message to impart on this double-edged record. They kick off with a rumination on the planet’s fragile ecosystem on ‘Tropic’, which looks to a possible future with an ominous fate for the foliage we hold dear. Production-wise, Horsepower set electric drum loops off against lurid daubs of synth without derailing the motion, but a huge amount of the track’s impact arrives in the sampling from a cult classic slice of sci-fi. The premise is that the last remaining trees and plants from earth are adrift in space in a bio-dome, and have been condemned for demolition - a depressingly feasible scenario with an aggravated soundtrack to boot.

On the flip, ‘Computer Rock’ rides a tough break slow and hard and injects dystopian electro synth licks into the mix for a darkside roller that celebrates the visionary talent of Jeff Brown, aka Kase 2. Brown pioneered graffiti in the 70s with futuristic styles that still hold sway today, leaning into his own sci-fi imaginings about computer worlds inhabited by extra-terrestrial beings, Brown passed away in 2011, and this track and the attendant B2 cut ‘Kase - Reprise’ pay tribute to a forefather of hip-hop culture by channeling the future shock styles of Bambaataa et al without ever sounding throwback.

The concept on this record gets taken out further with the additional digi-only tracks, which take in the low-slung, skunked up funk of ‘Blaque Gras’ and the amped up rave damage of ‘Kase 2-Part 2’. Throughout, on-point samples and a clear-eyed focus bring out the best in the Horsepower approach, offering up next level dance wreckers with something to say.

Reach for the geiger counter - Park End comes shelling in the direction of Sneaker Social Club with some plutonium-plated, 2-stepping swelterweight gear for the grubbiest of dancehalls. All we can ascertain about the shadowy figure on the buttons for this latest release is that they’re clearly schooled in the lineage of UK hardcore, pirate radio culture and the sympathetic tenets of UKG, jungle and dubstep.

Opening up the A side, ’Same Dream’ is a claustrophobic, gnarly creeper with razor-sharp snares, growling low end and enough heads-down malaise to turn the most blissful sunrise set ice-cold. ‘The Immortality Of The Crab’ pays tribute to the fine tradition of illegal radio broadcasting and its importance for the development of rave, leaning on a staggered, mucky garage beat that smacks hard just how we like it.

On the flip, Park End turns attention to the synergy between RnB and garage with a refix of BBL Sound’s ‘bbs’, pairing the sweetest vocal chops with plenty of bitter b-line pressure, while ‘Rekt’ draws on an unnamed voice for another fission between human sensitivity and mechanised intensity. This parting shot borders on anti-anthemic by the time it reaches its peak while holding true to the pitch-black vibe creeping out around the edges of this rough diamond of an EP.

Last year Low End Activist mapped out the depth and breadth of his sound with the Hostile Utopia album on Sneaker Social Club and now he returns with a fresh payload of future shock-outs from the grimy depths of his sound well. Recent times have seen LEA releases tipping towards MC guest spots but on this EP he's turning inward with three varied, mutant workouts for soundsystem immersion.

‘Sent West' makes no bones about its inspiration from the tough, boxy end of early dubstep, but as ever the kink in the Activist's sound comes from the detail around the rhythm and his embrace of off-centre textures. ‘Neurosis' plumbs even further down in its dogged pursuit of infinite subs and dystopian atmospherics, offering the kind of subliminal, wayward stepper to tweak nervous minds to distraction. ‘Dry Chat, Wet Rag' stretches out on the B side with a phantom dub pulled from rad-blasted wastelands, caked in slime and tough enough to withstand any fallout.

Calling to mind the introspective, evocative work on the likes of Engineers Origins EP, this is LEA using the hardcore continuum to tell his most murked-out tales.