Underworld return for the first time in three
years with Barking, and a potentially brilliant yet high-risk production
strategy that could well have ended up the wrong tree. Having written the
tracks in their Essex studio, they were sent to handpicked studio heads to
be sexed up with an idiosyncratic twist.
At first, it seems like
the tactic paid off. Controlled, Dubfire-produced opener Bird 1
begins from a bed of low bass, not so much progressing forwards as building
up, adding spaced-out vocals and stabs of synth. Always Loved A Film grows
seamlessly from its predecessor, despite the change of production to
Mark Knight D Ramirez. Then, a minute in, the gathering cloud
bursts. Fairly uplifting in its recorded form, this will be nothing short
of euphoric live. At times the individual lines have a tendency to squelch
into each other, but this fluidity is part of Underworld's charm.
Not all the producer changes are so seamless, nor
so well-advised. Frenetic lead single Scribble comes across as a little too
energetic, verging on annoying. Only after a quick breather halfway through
the track does it rebalance into something more stable.
Hamburg Hotel, touched up by Appleblim and Al Tourettes, begins
atmospherically, becoming slowly overcome with unsettlingly paranoid
chromatic spirals and the unhinged babbling of distorted speech. But
then... nothing. All this pent-up tension just sits there, and while a
brassy line can shift it about a little, it isn't quite spiced to taste. Hallucinogens advised.
Most of the album is far less
tedious. Trademark stream-of-consciousness vocals sit nicely atop an
uncluttered, orderly background of Grace, while Paul van Dyk-produced
Diamond Jigsaw, dusted off with shimmering staccato, is the track which
most resembles a conventional song, and a decent one at that.
Elsewhere, Between Stars is an absolute tune. With its anthemic
chorus, powerful, almost poetic lyrics (take the gorgeous assonance of
throwaway line "shining down to Chinatown" and multiply by 10) and
throbbing synths, this is a resounding success, and producers Mark K
and D Ramirez can celebrate a job well done.
Rick Smith and Karl
Hyde lack no talent for innovation. In a moment of rhythmic genius that has
to be heard to be believed, a drum kick snaps the deep and
philosophical meditation of Moon In Water into
on-beat, strident electro pop vocals, while the vulnerability of acoustic
piano provides a surprising opening to the album's sunset. Simple
slow-burner Louisiana isn't rocket science, nor is it particularly
ground-breaking. Nevertheless, it's an interesting departure from the
mayhem of the electro preceding it, and a pleasant track to go out on.
Given the production merry-go-round behind the album, it's difficult to
know with whom to lodge the praise and blame. It's tempting to think that
if all nine tracks had been produced by Paul van Dyk then this would
have been an instant classic. As it stands though, Barking is a mostly-solid
album let down by a couple of weak links. It's not earth-shattering, and there
are no new Born Slippys, but it's well worth a listen.
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