Revivalism and surprise might not always be mutually exclusive, but combining the two is tricky. It's been done, especially in dance music. But if you can't pull off that sneaky alchemical future-retroism, you can at least try to cast a broad net, paying homage to a lingering idea of a few distinct scenes and highlighting juxtaposition, if not actual cohesion. Toddla T was merely a preschooler during rave's late 1980s UK explosion, but by the end of the 90s he'd begun to DJ before he was old enough to drive. Another decade's worth of experience spinning other people's records meant he had his ear finely tuned when it came time to make his own-- so far his career's been a fair-minded exercise in consolidating a sprawl of electronic dance music history into a loosely-tied catchall that covers grime, dancehall, electro, and all points between.
Sophomore album Watch Me Dance is a by-the-book collection of eclectic throwbacks, hitting all the right sounds in a non-superficial fashion, but not advancing much further into unexplored territory. There's early single "Take It Back", and all the double-meaning that title implies-- lyrical nostalgia for the initial, now-faded rush of a young and happy relationship, paired with sonic nostalgia of a hip-house-inflected Soul II Soul homage. "Badman Flu" nods towards dawn-of-the-90s ragga/rave, driven by a charging 808 throb and a pitched-up stammer break worthy of old-school 'ardkore label Shut Up and Dance. On the other end of that decade, "Streets So Warm" filters digital dancehall through burbling dial-tone synths and finds a way to build emotional resonance off a bassline that consists solely of sparse, one-note "WHOMP"'s. The opening title track's a tenuously Prince-ly 80s funk-rock cut that rides on live (or live-sounding) drums and slap bass-- and doesn't sound a damn thing like any of the other songs on the album.
There are also beats that seem bewilderingly, naggingly vague and detached from any chronologically or historically tangible movements, yet still clearly look backwards. "Cruise Control" and "Cherry Picking" are propulsive and hooky, and as good examples as any to point out how well Toddla T can assemble bass lines and breaks that, while intricate, never distract you from how danceable they are. But on an album that leans so heavily on acknowledging influences, they don't seem to have a distinct reference of their own-- they're not reminiscent of anything, whether it's a stylistic homage or a unique sonic identity the producer's still in the process of establishing.
That leaves the album's roster of guest vocalists to pick up the slack, and it does benefit from a wide cross-section of enduring veterans-- Roots Manuva casually murmuring laidback come-ons on the title track, Roisin Murphy doing her best enigmatic Annie Lennox on "Cherry Picking", Wayne Marshall giving "Streets So Warm" a piercing gut-punch pathos, and a warm turn from Ms. Dynamite on the vintage-reggae "Fly" that makes for another fine entry in her current comeback bid. Toddla T's ear for collaborators is matched by his sense of restraint: This is an album that aims for radio and clubs alike instead of shooting for the overload of songs geared strictly toward bassbins. Watch Me Dance doesn't reconcile the clash between retro and modernism, but at least it does the past a decent amount of justice.
