On my gramophone in February 2019: Pye Corner Audio, High Contrast, Seb Wildblood, Four Tet and, er...

Here are a few things I've been spinning on my gramophone in February 2019.

1. Pye Corner Audio

Pye Corner Audio's Hollow Earth, which purports to revive the “ghosts of ’90s house euphoria” but actually ties the corners of those ghosts to fashion them into a parachute designed to glide you into seriously smoky ambient valleys where you'll be lost forever. In a good way.



2. High Contrast

High Contrast's 2002 debut album True Colours, a great sister sound to Roni Size's Brown Paper Bag. In recent years, he was a music selector for the 2012 Olympics opening ceremony, and he had a track in T2 Trainspotting. Which is like going from the sublime to the ridiculous. In a good way.



3. Seb Wildblood

Seb Wildblood's Grab The Wheel, an EP from last year which is only just tugging on my musical heartstrings now. His deep house is simple, almost by-the-numbers in its structure - but boy, it's weedled up my pee-hole right into my guts. In a good way.



4. Four Tet

Kieran 'Four Tet' Hebden still refuses to tell anyone what he did with the first three Tets. While we wait for an answer, we'll have to make do with this cheery little album from 2017. I overlooked this at the time, but it's growing on me like a particularly persistent moss. In a good way.



5. Sweep

Experimental sound artist Sweep has often found himself under the shadow of the better known silent composer Sooty. But this symphony of squeaks, juxtaposed perfectly with floppy ears, really speaks to the zeitgeist of our times. It's like having your brain scooped out with kazoos. In a good way.

The episode where Sweep's extended family paid him a visit is simply glorious. pic.twitter.com/VLbe9daAXY

— Archivetvmusings (@archivetvmus71) January 29, 2019

Waxy tip-off: turn up the High Contrast

Time for a lesson: here's the history of drum 'n' bass in fast forward.

Get a crayon, put its waxy tip on early rave, then draw a squiggly line from early 1990s ambient through the breathy jungle of LTJ Bukem all the way to the harder percussion and stepping basslines of High Contrast. End of lesson.

High Contrast is still banging out the choons, although his new best-of compilation, Confidential, has somewhat underwhelmed the BBC.

HC's punchy snares land with a satisfying snap, like a wet towel in a changing room. In his own way, his chord progressions and song structure are -- and I need to whisper this -- as comfortably recognisable and as nicely predictable as Coldplay. He's not afraid of the commercial end of his chosen genre, but what separates him from Coldplay is, well, High Contrast isn't a twazmuppet who covers his hands in multicoloured electrical tape the name of world peace.

He could always draw on his hand with a crayon.

High Contrast's Confidential is a double disc. Once side of the coin is the sprightly d 'n' b we're used to, such as the skipping, airy Return Of Forever (eighties bassline ahoy). The second half is a whole pile of remixes with some big hitters like Missy Elliot and Eric "Teaching Madonna How To Make Fame-Inspired Promo Videos" Prydz.

On this second disc, I can forgive him the odd Adele remix because his Utah Saints reworking is a total monster of a track. Again, his downfall could be his commerciality... but it's so much fun.
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The record label that spawned this Welsh bass-stepper, Hospital Records, puts out a jolly good podcast - seek it out on an iTunes near you. In the meantime, bag yourself some Confidential information here.

You may put your crayon away now.

Store Street blues: waddling with the scrotes, the clubbers and the tokers

I'm trotting under a brick-clad bridge down what feels like a road to oblivion when a wiry scroat of a man asks me for money.
Or rather, he asks me for the time. Then money.
I put on my skint face, apologise and walk on. He summons all his fury and describes what he's going to to with my skull if I don't cough up cash.
With a dark but open street ahead, I hurry on to safety with his threats ringing off the brickwork behind me.
Store Street has never been my favourite road in Manchester. I have to make it safe somehow.
If only I'd had The Tattooed Bouncer with me. He was a vicious looking gentleman with ink all over his head, and he impressed me once at a Plaid gig by dragging a casual drug toker out of the Music Box by his throat.
When I say 'impressed', I mean 'terrified'.
But sadly he has died, a claim the deceased bouncer has since owned up to according to local news reports. Fat use for next time I waddle down Store Street.
Here's another idea for making Store Street safe. When there's thrills and pills in abundance, you don't get threats of violence, so maybe someone would be kind enough to convert the street into a clubber's paradise.
Maybe, just maybe, we could bribe some of the great names to spin some plastic mp3s: Armand Van Helden, Layo & Bushwacka!, Dave Clarke, High Contrast, Jeff Mills, Aphex Twin.
I'm free this weekend, so it could run from then until, say, New Year's Eve. It's a crazy idea, and it will never happen. Hold on, the phone's ringing...
...yes? Store Street, yes. Behind Piccadilly train station.... they're doing what? The Warehouse what?
It seems my Store Street blues are over for a while. Maybe now I could walk arm in arm / headlock with the Deceased Bouncer, with scroats fleeing in the other direction down my brick-clad road to oblivion.
Thank you, Warehouse Project: you are about to make the city a more magical place.