The first Aphex Twin track I ever loved was "Flim," from the Come to Daddy EP. There's not much to it-- some one-handed piano, a single synthesizer swell, and programmed drums. The spare beauty of the piano melody is certainly to be admired (it's one of many Aphex tracks inspired by Satie), but the real kicker for me has always been the beats. "Flim" looms large in my personal listening history because it's the first track I remember hearing where the percussion carries the bulk of the emotional content. Its drums are loaded with tension, constantly feeling as though they might be moving just a bit too fast for the tune, in danger of falling over themselves. But they never lose their footing and continue to drop into place with precision, providing serious catharsis at the end of every 16th bar.
I've come across music where the feelings hinge on the percussion since I first discovered "Flim," but I've not heard a band pursue the notion as relentlessly over the course of an album as Boston's the Grace Period. Dynasty is an album of subtle touches and rare warmth, filled with interesting melodic fragments and memorable sounds. But the drums are what make these songs special. Just as Alan Sutherland of Land of the Loops used live bass to provide both the foundation and sonic signature for his work, Grace Period main-man (and former Pitchfork writer) Chris Ott's drums are the heart and soul of this record.
"Paris Au Printemps" begins the album with a sexy bit of French dialog, and then one spoken line is plucked and set into looping motion. The drumming on the track is loose and relaxed, like it's guiding the listener slowly into a dream, a feeling enhanced by the velvety synthesizer chords. Thick, round keyboard drones are a recurring theme throughout Dynasty, serving as a blurry pastel background for the brush strokes of the percussion. "Best of Boston" begins with some of the warmest such drones on the record, which are in contrast to the crisp cymbal hits that set the track in motion. "My Girlfriend" is one of the few songs to plainly incorporate an outside sample, looping a section of a wordless three-note falsetto vocal and burying it beneath determined drumming and a looped acoustic guitar pattern, all to sublime effect. The militaristic rudiments that make up the rhythm of "Et in Arcadia Ego" compliment the coldest synths on Dynasty, providing some interesting contrast to the generally congenial tone.
Occasionally, the Grace Period's experiments with drum texture don't quite hit, as on the bombastic Bonham-isms that encompass the annoying "Boring Arial Layout." But these occasional misfires aren't what keep me from loving this album. Dynasty comes up a bit short for me in its over-reliance on the looped fragment as a basis for composition. These songs are evocative, well-crafted and emotional, but some of them are also too repetitive, a quality with potential to limit repeat playability in the distant future.
For the time being, though, I am digging this record. It's fair to lump the Grace Period with sample-driven outfits on labels like Slabco or My Pal God, but the similarity is primarily in the mode of production. There's nothing even remotely kitschy about Dynasty. You never get the feeling that somebody spent 500 hours in front of the television, flipping channels with one hand with a finger on the VCR's record button. The Grace Period is softer, more reflective, and ultimately more human; what voice samples there are might be recordings of friends who happened to be hanging around. Instead of a pop culture travelogue, the Grace Period feels more like a diary-- one open-ended enough to apply to anybody.
