Jlin: Black Origami (2017) – Album Review

I would first like to offer my deepest condolences to all of the poor families affected by the terrorist incident last night in Manchester. I’ve been unable to think of anything else all day: appalled, sickened, depressed. I wasn’t sure whether to publish this review today, out of respect, but these attacks are a deliberate attempt to disrupt the flow of civilised society, not to mention our enjoyment of music from death metal to Ariana Grande, and so I feel that the best way to retaliate is to carry on appreciating the wonders of music as usual (whilst never, ever forgetting the lives tragically lost, of course). Which is why a) I’m still going to be seeing Radiohead in Manchester on the 4th July, fuck you radicalists, and b) I’m still going to recommend the very good album below on this day of mourning. We should stick to our pleasures, in the face of extremism, now more than ever before.

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Jerrilynn Patton, a.k.a. Jlin, is an electronic musician from Gary, Indiana. She’s renowned for her work in footwork, an electronic subgenre that combines rapid dance beats (tracks hurtle by at approx. 160bpm) with avant-garde flourishes. I’m by no means an expert on electronic music (got the above information from Wikipedia, folks), but I was nevertheless instantly attracted to this distinctive artist’s world: multiple polyrhythmic percussive elements tussle with each other atop chopped-up Indian voices, ululations which are made to sound just as percussive through their lack of melodic cadence, whilst dark basslines and industrial sound effects quietly undermine the general uplift of the clamour. This is a ‘black’ record in two senses of the word: firstly, in its stark rejection of the colouring of melody, leaving a pop-abjuring vacuum as dark as space that’s somewhat alarmingly filled with the angry, martial beats of drums; secondly, in its celebration of an underclass of explicitly non-white sampled voices, which come together across the course of the album to threaten the despised ‘1%’ (the name of one song, which helps to make the political context more explicit). The overall effect is of M.I.A. without the hooks, every track crossing cultural borders like that artist’s famous ‘Paper Planes’. Jlin was apparently inspired by her ongoing collaborations with Indian ‘dancer/movement artist’ Avril Stormy Unger, and it shows, but the musical texture has a speed and aggression that very much finds its feet in the footwork of Jlin’s earlier career, whilst there are also collaborations with American avant-gardists William Basinski and Holly Herndon. What should be a mess instead comes across as a focussed 45-minute blast of electronic rebellion, culminating in a ‘Challenge (To Be Continued)’, which comes both as a promise and a veiled threat after all that’s gone before. The lack of melodic structure makes the soundscapes more of an endurance test than, say, Burial (a personal favourite). But, even for an electronic dilettante, the effort’s certainly worth it.

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