There’s really nothing special about this record, except for the fact that it’s stunningly good. In itself, that’s quite daring these days.
If you’re making electronic music, it seems you need a manifesto of sorts. The whole scene is fractured into more subgenres than anyone could track, each with its own set of rules and practices.
Take the early glitch-hop work of Prefuse 73, the micromanaged chaos of Autechre, or the gliding layers of guitar loops in Fennesz. An artist is known for their techniques as much as they are their sound. The whole thing is an unremitting, steely-eyed march forward, sometimes at the expense of making music that’s simply enjoyable on a basic level.
You can’t get away with just making good music; you’ve got to be doing something revolutionary. And sometimes that gets just a bit tiring.
Apparently, Alex Willner didn’t get that memo. He doesn’t have a “hook,” so to speak. From Here We Go Sublime is simply a good, solid electronic record, with no pretensions of anything greater. That may be why I’m enjoying it so much.
If I had to triangulate, I’d say it sounds a bit like second-wave Detroit with a nod towards late-90s trance. Wait, don’t stop reading yet.
Although Willner’s not using any elements we haven’t heard before, he’s so adept at arranging them that it doesn’t matter after the first few minutes. The rhythms and programming are minimal and subdued, and though they sound a bit dated, I think that may be the point. Frenetic breakdowns aren’t the point here.
The whole thing pulls you in, only to slowly reveal subtle tweaks once it’s got your full attention. It starts out with “Over the Ice,” a hollow and cold-sounding subway ride broken by snippets of a female voice. “A Paw in My Face” is a bit sunnier. Though it uses a similar rhythmic bed, it’s less cagey, with a guitar figure borrowed from (I’m fairly certain) a Lionel Richie song. Yeah, there’s a sense of humor here.
The next two songs pull things a bit more taut, and it’s not until “Everyday” that you realize the record’s been changing on you. Everything opens up to let the air in, and the vocals from the first piece are brought to the forefront in a very dramatic fashion. We’re still in somewhat introverted territory, but within the confines Willner’s set, it’s shockingly propulsive, and quite beautiful. It scales its way upwad for seven minutes, before “Silent” brings things down slowly and gently.
Having taken a respite, the record begins ascending again. “The Deal” is a centerpiece of sorts, a sort of recapitulation on everything that’s come so far. It reminds me very much of Global Communication, if they’d only received a swift kick in the pants. The following track maintains the pulse, but smooths everything out into a warm wash.
The last two tracks are a bit of coda. Having gotten the meat of the record out of the way, “Mobilia” plays 4/4 and 6/8 time signatures together in a brooding piece that recalls early Underworld in atmosphere. The title track, which seems bent on deconstructing the whole album and turning it into a downtempo dub piece, closes things out.
All said, it’s a highly enjoyable record. Though Willner can be caught gazing squarely at his shoes at times, there’s a certain unapologetic nod to raw sentimentality here. He’s certainly not out to prove anything, and in doing so, he’s creating some truly moving music.
This is a record that needs to be heard through headphones, as Willner’s got a wonderful ear for mixing and production. He plays with space and timbre quite a bit, and seemingly minor events take on major significance under close scrutiny.
From Here We Go Sublime is available from Kompakt.