Sam Binga's defining characteristic as a producer seems to be generosity. To his fans—he's maintained a frenetic release pace since early last decade (often under his Baobinga alias)—but mostly to other artists, as the majority of those releases feature collaborations with vocalists or other producers. This tends to be the first thing anyone mentions about Binga, and while it's refreshing, especially in electronic music, to see an artistic approach other than Genius Lone Wolf, it's also resulted in a highly variable catalog that has obscured anything resembling a signature touch or sound. Wasted Days, Binga's proper debut record, again features a host of MCs and offers a robust 17 tracks (a four-sided LP version is trimmer) but stands as his most realized and bountiful work yet, synthesizing two decades of UK bass music into something vigorous and modern.
Binga is a child of UK rave culture, and his production style has flitted between drum'n'bass, grime, and dubstep. Grime's resurgence, as both a pop and underground phenomenon, has refocused UK music's relationship with dancehall culture, as MCs have increasingly stepped back into the booth. Before grime, though, MCs played a large role in DJ sets, toasting over jungle and UK garage sets. It's this loose, improvisational feel that defines Wasted Days, as vocalists shuffle through tracks Binga has tailored to showcase their slurring patois. Their muddied taunts and boasts offer crucial texture and melody to Binga’s drum-heavy chambers, leaving the tracks in a liminal space between structured song craft and narrative-driven rap.
Putting a precise name on Binga’s productions proves difficult. They have the tempos and streamlined tech-y-ness of modern-day drum’n’bass (the album is on Critical Recordings, the pre-eminent home for underground drum’n’bass in 2015), eschewing cut-up breakbeats in favor of sound design. Its slithering melodies and dub-heavy sound recall grime and dubstep, and rap and footwork has seeped into Binga’s work just as it has general UK dance culture. It’s the rare record for which the imprecision of the term "bass music" is a positive.
At times Wasted Days feels like someone shined a spotlight into whatever dungy corner Kevin Martin’s the Bug project has inhabited the past few years, fumigating the living room and disinfecting the kitchen. The two share a love for UK soundsystem culture, but Binga’s version is far less blunted and menacing. On tracks like "Mind and Spirit" and the title cut (featuring frequent Martin collaborator Warrior Queen) Binga’s productions advance in sustained, athletic bursts, moving explosively between verses. Opener "Believe" largely consists of a rapid bursts of sub-kicks, leaving plenty of headroom for MCs Redders and Rider Shafique’s id-driven swagger.
On "Stormy Weather" and "Reclaim" (which features fellow bass explorer Om Unit) Binga manages to ease off the gas and offer more contemplative work without sounding lame or maudlin. They offer just enough variety, even if the combination of Binga and the MCs suggests harder/better/faster/stronger is the correct impulse. What’s remarkable though is how well Wasted Days comes together, and how easy it is to return to a 17-track collaborative album of indeterminate style; the degree of difficulty in actually pulling this off shouldn’t be understated, and you need look no further than the last Bug album to see how easily this kind of project can bog down. Wasted Days manages to provide a grand stage not just for the MCs but, at last, for Binga’s talents as well.
