If Silkie's City Limits Volume 1 had an immediate identity, it was dubstep's more upfront tendencies dialed into a somewhat upscale frequency-- tasteful without being bland, busy without being messy. Headphone music that worked just as well filling rooms, his material had a strong sense of rhythmic pull and intricate density. And while Silkie augmented his developing sound with occasional detours into "purple" bass and evergreen boogie funk, what stood out was an overarching style that didn't see a mutual exclusion between cocktail-lounge ambiance and tons of wobbly bass. At times it skewed closer to the pop-gloss sophistication of late-90s UK garage than the escalating bassbin arms race of crossover dubstep.
Follow-up City Limits Volume 2 isn't as immediately gratifying or revelatory-- it's a logical progression, reliability replacing novelty. But it also explores the possibility of connecting on a level simultaneously nostalgic and contemporary, right down to the decades-past pirate-radio evocations of its song titles: "Get Up N Dance", "Rock Da Funk". Repeating themes seem intent on sparking flashbacks, vivid enough to hit specific nerves but vague enough to avoid coming across as specifically derivative-- and threading together a narrative of genre developments in the process.
The synth sax that drove the melody of Volume 1 track "Beauty" is a more prominent component here, punctuating tracks with melodic stabs that could have originated from a decade-old Locked On garage 12"-- if not a late-80s hip-house remix. "Selva Nova" tweaks the neo-jungle turf that its title hints at, wringing jittery force out of the old "Amen" break and dousing it with a choppy yet liquid 303 bassline. And whenever a voice breaches the surface, it's in a familiar form-- Rastafarian incantations ("Feel"), Roger Troutman talk-box warbles ("New York City"), or a distorted, pitched-up note or two from a rave diva ("Snowed In"). Even the synth and piano melodies that drove some of the more compelling hooks on Volume 1 sound more comfortably worn and identifiable from eras past, like the rollerskate-jam electro of "Boogie Boy" or the Junie Morrison-esque g-funk extrapolations in "Lucky".
The catch is that once Silkie gets ahold of these vintage signifiers, he pushes them all the way into the red with the pedal-down immediacy of current bass music. Even with the obvious nods to dance music's past, from rave to garage, the forward-looking listener can be assured that Silkie's found a way to make his rhythms even more nuanced and multifaceted. Attempting to break down drum patterns into individual components of snares, hi-hats, and kicks will just wind up causing dizziness; some of the beats are so stuffed with counter-rhythms and jostling emphases-- even before the buildups and breakdowns shift the topography-- that it's almost easy to lose track of just how supple they are. The bass feels a bit more aggressive, too. There are some points, such as late-album tracks "Taxi Mi Get" and "Only For You", where it takes on the hissing crackle of a shorting-out amp, and others where the wobble shakes things out until rich, individual notes turn into frenetic, staccato trembles. It's bracing stuff when all the elements click-- "Selva Nova", the cheery prog-funky of closer "Outlook", and Skream collaboration "Untitled", which pulls off a great double-paced slow-stride/fast-scramble momentum. And if this album's status as the final City Limits installation marks the end of an early career-defining phase, it suggests a good transition for Silkie: The body of work he's put together so far proves that the man knows his roots, and he knows where to follow them.
