You don’t actually play an aeolian harp. The ancient, lyre-like instrument—documented in some form as far back as the Homeric age—must instead be exposed to the elements, where a passing gust of wind will cause its strings to vibrate. Untouched nature is the 21st century’s ultimate luxury good, but it’s also hard to come by, so Kassian’s Joe Danvers-McCabe and Warren Cummings have given us the next best thing. On its debut album, the UK electronic duo taps into the storied British tradition of cutting loose in the Mediterranean: starched white towels, fresco-tiled pools, yachts gliding into hidden coves. Toggling between house, techno, and Balearic beat, Channels moves with all the unforced ease of water finding its path of least resistance to reach the ocean, a record whose compulsive listenability belies a wealth of taste, complexity, and sophistication. It takes a lot of effort to sound this unbothered.
After the electroacoustic table-setting of album opener “Mockingbirds,” Danvers-McCabe and Cummings kick off a first act that plays like the musical equivalent of day-to-night dressing. The breezy “Aeolian Harp” glimmers with morning sunlight, its funky walking bassline—a whisper of Chic’s Risqué— as invigorating as a shot of freshly pulled espresso. “Invision” pans down to the beach, where things are starting to heat up with a more muscular groove and blocky house chords that yearn for a ’90s soul diva to start wailing atop them, à la Black Box’s 1990 opus Dreamland. By the time we reach the neon-lit techno of “Metro” (a title and song that evoke, whether intentionally or not, the cosmopolitan boogie of Metro Area), it doesn’t take much effort to picture the mirrorball sparkling overhead. And after what feels like 12 hours spent on the dancefloor, Channels’ title track offers a much-needed comedown: a downy bed of Italo disco, wistful cello, and featherlight micro-electronic touches.
To widen their sonic eddies, Kassian brought in Timothy Kraemer, whose cello lines weave throughout the album, alongside jazz keyboardist and Ezra Collective member Joe Armon-Jones. Armon-Jones’ keys shine on “Aeolian Harp,” where they bubble like air from a scuba mask rising to the surface, while Kraemer lends gravitas to the ambient washes of “Spring,” bringing to mind the tidal force of Fennesz’s Agora. The B-side triptych of “Sun,” “Joss Bay,” and “Sunset Park,” meanwhile, are all about Cummings and Danvers-McCabe, putting the duo’s previous flirtations with 808 State-style acid house—as on last year’s Supercontinent EP—front and center. “Joss Bay” is the standout of the three, making canny use of a single-syllabic vocal sample that could be heard as either “Hey!” or “Wait!” It’s a fitting encapsulation of Channels’ core tension: whether to treat the record as headphones music or body music. In Kassian’s hands, both options are pretty irresistible.
Thanks to its seamless, DJ-style mix and thoughtful sequencing, Channels rarely lags over the course of its brisk 36-minute runtime. There’s only one track—the brief “Peech Blue”—I’d identify as a dud, and only because its turn towards the belty feels ham-fisted on an album largely dedicated to the expressive power of the subtle and, for the most part, instrumental. Neither tunnel-visioned on the club nor overly fussy—as evidenced by their choice to use first takes from many of Kraemer and Armon-Jones’ improvisatory studio sessions—Danvers-McCabe and Cummings could just as easily lean into their IDM impulses on their next release as go full Disclosure with a big-tent dance pop record stuffed with guest singers. But for now, they seem content to lounge by the pool, and why wouldn’t they be? In Kassian’s paradise, the water’s always fine.
