One of Disclosure's signatures is their ability to strip their songs to exactly the right number of elements. This is in part an aesthetic choice, but the paring down of each track is a means to an end: the duo’s instant classic debut Settle doesn't sacrifice emotional resonance in the name of efficiency, and it’s in that tension—the weight carried by bare bones—that the album becomes special.
Though unfussy, this formula makes for songs that might very well be difficult—if not intimidating—to remix. How do you chip away at and then rebuild tracks so...just so? Well, Settle: The Remixes argues that if you’re smart maybe you don’t. The truth that hovers over the album is perhaps uncomfortable because of how easy it can be to notice: of all the reworkings collected by Guy and Howard Lawrence, the best of the bunch are the ones that depart from the originals the least. That, too, is to say nothing of the two new Disclosure songs that bookend the 15-track set.
The lineup here is as starry and varied you’d expect for two kids billed on this year’s Coachella poster above Lana Del Rey, an artist who has actual platinum plaques to her name. There are contemporaries (Hudson Mohawke, Baauer, Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs); up-and-comers (Flume, Kaytranada); legends (DJ Premier, Larry Heard); and the London underground (T. Williams, Preditah, Wookie). This time it’s the old guys—the ones, maybe, with the least to prove—who best navigate the balance by undertaking alterations instead of redesigns.
The top remix comes from Chicago house luminary Larry Heard, who handles one of three new versions of “Help Me Lose My Mind” under his Mr. Fingers pseudo-alias. On Settle, the narcotic London Grammar collaboration closes the album with what sounds like a cleanse but is actually shivering at its core—it's an unsettling finish. Here, Heard tips his hand: his is dubbed as a “chillout mix,” and that it is. He slows the track and replaces the jittery percussion with pitter-patter drums, a slowly tapped out piano chord, and an unhurried shaker. The tracks are quite similar, but where in the context of the original Hannah Reid’s vocals are a quiet plea, they're now soothed. With Heard, she finally manages to let her mind slip away.
The inclusion of DJ Premier may seem odd, but Guy Lawrence has long professed his love for boom bap and the duo do sample a J Dilla beat on Settle. Odder is what comes of Primo’s take on “Latch”, a pop song with the sweep of house but the underpinnings of garage. His version throws obligatory scratches in early but otherwise transforms the song into a piano ballad. Yet, it’s fantastic: Primo’s drums punch exactly like you’d hope, but even better are the hard exhales he weaves into the percussion. This, well, panting is a sly but effective way of emphasizing the original’s headrush of desperation, and though track might feel like a left-turn, DJ Premier is only slightly fidgeting with a finished product—vocalist Sam Smith’s acoustic rendition of “Latch".
From there, it's a sizable drop-off to the few remixes that are decent but inessential: with his “Voices”, Wookie smoothes the 2-step of the original into a pure house tune; and with his go at “Help Me Lose My Mind”, Paul Woolford summons the tropical euphoria of John Talabot and Pional. The rest aren’t noteworthy, save for a few dispiriting but high-profile exceptions. HudMo’s jagged swoop-and-crash makes for a bad fit with the twirling propulsion of “White Noise”, but worst is Baauer’s grotesquely garish “You & Me”. The remix is clearly designed for the EDM festivals he gets booked for in the wake of “Harlem Shake”, but it's one that eviscerates the original’s delicate space. (Flume’s version of “You & Me” at least heightens the drama.)
Settle: The Remixes is a mostly fine listen, but Disclosure’s two originals do make you wonder why they even bothered. “Apollo”, which kicks off this album, is probably the deepest house track they’ve ever made, and as an open gesture to clubs it more or less invalidates the remixes here (T. Williams’ “Latch” or Preditah’s “Stimulation”) that seem to be tailored towards DJs that might never drop a Disclosure cut. Then there’s “Together”, the Lawrences' collaboration with Nile Rodgers, Smith, and Jimmy Napes, who co-wrote “Latch.”
“Together” is a squeeze of squelching funk—a deft one-off experiment as long as you can ignore how easy it is to hum the chorus of “Suit & Tie” over the guitar lick. Smith sings of relaxing while draining a bottle of Sauvignon: “Let’s unwind together/ Ease our minds together.” It’s arguably a curious song to tack onto the end of a remix album, the type of project that often causes plenty of headaches while never quite coming together right. Nowadays we call this a subtweet.
