Montreal's Scott Monteith last checked in solo as Deadbeat with 2002's Wildlife Documentaries. It wasn't a bad album but the overt Pole worship was hard to overlook, especially considering that Stefan Betke himself had by then decided that ghostly digi-dub was tired and decided to move on. Yes, Monteith made some unusual decisions, such as pinching the bass to focus on busier, more detailed midrange, but Wildlife Documentaries would never have happened without the groundbreaking (and still great) Pole 1.
Since then, Monteith has teamed with Stephen Beaupré to record micro-sampling minimal house (last year's It's a Crackhaus Thing), and now returns with Something Borrowed, Something Blue. On first listen, it's clear that Something Borrowed, Something Blue was shot with the same film stock as Wildlife Documentaries. Dub again provides the structure and there's plenty of pop. But can this seemingly limited set of variables be combined into a successful record one more time?
Well, yes, miraculously. Something Borrowed, Something Blue is a major improvement on Wildlife Documentaries, and it manages to create an intriguing and unfamiliar world from commonplace building blocks. The album was inspired by Monteith's recent marriage (hence the title), and damn if it isn't more direct and emotionally engaging than anything he's done. The short track "A Brief Explanation" bleeds seamlessly into "Head Over Heels" to open the album, and the two function together as an 8\xBD-minute statement of purpose. I'm reminded of the remix EP that Pole did for the Leaf label with Four Tet, because "Head Over Heels" so brilliantly combines a simple, delicate piano flourishes with clusters of throbbing crackle and the suggestion of reggae underneath.
I believe sampled crickets make up at least part of the main rhythm element in "Head Over Heels", and this churning, high-end pattern becomes a curiously essential feature of the album. It serves as a bridge from one track to next, dropping out occasionally to focus the energy on the bass, and then returning to remind us of what album we're listening to. The percussion echoing away from the center of "White Out" might be disappearing into primeval jungle, and "Requiem" answers with commanding bass that stretches far beneath anything on this album's intentionally thin precursor.
The aptly named "Joyful Noise (Part 1)" guides the quaking bottom into more melodic territory, as it provides a loping, sun-ripened tune to complement the endless swarm of double-time shakers. "Joyful Noise (Part 2)" finds Deadbeat drifting into noisier territory, as the track swells into a chorus of digital insects and leaves development behind. On the whole, this record is an interesting inversion. Where quintessential glitch describes a world existing on an abstract plane of pure energy, Deadbeat's music manages to be playful, fleshy and surprisingly fresh.
