When I was first exploring bass music, Pinch and Shackleton were gateway artists. Both masters erecting sickly, muted environments, their dub(step) was arty and sprawling enough-- both made use of Middle Eastern samples-- to lure an American rock-kid into England's dance culture. The two artists have been quiet lately: Pinch retreated into dance-oriented 12"s in addition to curating his Tectonic imprint, while Shackleton moved to Berlin and released some minimal techno for a minimal-techno label (an excellent one). Announced and released last week by the astute Honest Jon's label, Pinch & Shackleton is a welcome return to each artist's peculiar roots.
Despite obvious common ground, Shackleton and Pinch achieve their thick headspaces in different ways-- Shackleton the austere, death-obsessed perfectionist and Pinch the reggae-savvy producer unafraid to let a mediocre rapper sully his tracks. Rather than a summing of styles, Pinch & Shackleton plays as a vision of what bass music was a half-decade ago, two producers' onetime vision of progress. It benefits massively from a lack of artists interested in these sounds: In 2011 bass music is brighter, or deeper, or more aggressive.
P&S is not very bright or deep or aggressive; its nine tracks often file forward with quiet confidence but without explicit purpose. The duo stresses clarity: Synths float well above Shackleton's exacting percussion (its complexity dialed back here), sub-bass rumble, and vocal samples applied judiciously. When the music floats hazily by, such as during the opening minutes of "Levitation", it is an intentional, manicured float. Four minutes into "Cracks in the Pleasuredome" the duo dials up shards of a Middle Eastern vocal cadence, and I'm reminded of a type of mystical-industrial fantasies Pinch and Shackleton are capable of conjuring. "Selfish Greedy Life" chatters ominously, little demons competing for attention with steam-vent bursts and saucer-like patches. "Monks on the Rum" is the duo's palette stretched on putty, diffuse and manipulated but no less composed.
This is not the foggy, soft-focus paranoia of an artist like Burial, whose work has informed so much underground electronic composition; Pinch and Shackleton don't want to suggest darkness; they want to create it. They do so with familiar tones and structures, but ones that remain effective: see, after three minutes of whispering synths and whinnying flutes, if the bass drop of "Burning Blood" doesn't make you smell something. In 2011, Pinch and Shackleton are a sensory experience; their waters are crystal clear, but sometimes you don't want to know what's at the bottom of the lake. Let's be excited they're showing us again.
