The title could double as a maxim for Kaidi Tatham’s career: Don’t Rush the Process—an encapsulation of the producer and multi-instrumentalist’s decades-long immersion in his singular proclivities. Since the mid 1990s, Tatham has been one of the central pioneers of broken beat, a style of stripped-down and bugged-out beat music forged in the furnace of the West London underground that emphasizes syncopated drumbeats and heavy basslines. He’s a former member of production collective Bugz in the Attic, and his session and remix catalog includes Slum Village, Mulatu Astatke, Marcos Valle, and Henry Wu cuts. But Tatham’s solo career has increased in velocity since he found a home on First Word Records, a company that believed in him enough to reissue 2008’s In Search of Hope—his debut solo record under his own name—a couple of years ago while also overseeing a growing series of LPs where he extends the borders of his sound.
Don’t Rush the Process is Tatham’s most expansive record yet, reaching far beyond his broken-beat origin story to incorporate boogie, disco, boom bap, bossa nova, and shades of Thundercat. There are dreamy harps, Jon Brion-sized strings, choir samples. Tatham’s omnivorous music places him alongside British contemporaries like Kamaal Williams, Joe Armon-Jones, and Tenderlonious. But by underpinning the arrangements with neat, programmed drum loops—as well as keeping the project moving with beat-tape brevity—Tatham’s productions still feel more insular than lush. Don’t Rush the Process is a headphones album that you can still throw on at the cookout. It’s instrumental music with melodies that will stay put in your temporal lobe for days. Tatham showcases his versatility with cohesion and focus.
So you get a song like “We Chillin’ Out”: With its repetitive piano progression, upbeat horn riffs, and cosmic keys, it’s an Earth, Wind & Fire-esque slice of 1970s disco. The sweet ba-ba-ba vocal harmonies of “Knocknee Donkey” invoke Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66. The title track is built out of the kind of squelchy synths and bass that could give a lowrider its bounce as it cruises L.A.’s boulevards. (The palm tree in the background on the sleeve sure isn’t depicting Tatham’s hometown of Redditch, just south of Birmingham.)
Amid the more skittish beat cuts—like the grubby, Dilla-worshiping “Funky Fool”—Tatham indulges his taste for jazz. On “Any Flavour,” his brisk piano play is matched with a prominent bassline and hand drums that give it a little Latin swing. He tinkles the keys over ethereal samples on “Runnin’ Tru.” In fact, there was room here for more soloing—there’s nothing quite as fervent as his playing over, say, the second half of 2016 number “The Shadow Ain’t Going Nowhere.” But pull the viewfinder back to a wider angle and witness a prolific veteran currently dedicated to moving away from broken beat—or any other easy genre signifier—with flair and focus. More than two and a half decades deep, Tatham is in a new groove, and it’s anyone’s guess where it may carry him.
