Northerners visiting Los Angeles might be surprised to discover how many of the city's subcultures are drawn to monochromatic black and white clothing. Despite living in the land of PacSun and surfboards, something about being front-and-center as the masses descend on California beaches makes a portion of the city's youth culture push hard in the opposite direction, to leather jackets and combat boots. Perhaps the reverse dynamic is at work in Northern Europe, where over the last decade DJs and producers have gravitated towards heliocentric sounds, the soundtrack to an idealized beachfront lifestyle courtesy of kids raised in the land of the ice and snow.
A perfect example is Studio's 2006 LP West Coast. Since the Swedish duo of Rasmus Hägg and Daniel Lissvik first hit the world like a modest cult comet, the Balearic beach bum aesthetic they popularized reverberated across hip dancefloors and afterparties worldwide and inspired countless imitators. But West Coast is more than its position at the crest of a breaking trend-wave: like DJ Harvey's Sarcastic Study Masters Vol. 2 and Lindstrøm and Prins Thomas' epic BBC Essential Mix, it epitomized a moment, yet sustains as great escapist entertainment years later.
Since its release, Lissvik has retained an active résumé, remixing, producing for other artists (Taken by Trees, Young Galaxy), and recording under various pseudonyms, as he did for last year's Meditation under the moniker Atelje. But he hasn't unleashed a full solo project since 2008's 7 Trx + Intermission. Shuvit! is the first release in the lead-up to his second official full-length, and much as Atelje promised a return to the spiritual center of West Coast, Shuvit! tackles that sound in all its unpredictable, dubby disco glory. Well, maybe not glory: if Studio's biggest album both epitomized its time and transcended it, Shuvit! does neither—although it does neither in a very pleasant way.
The aims and accomplishments of this EP are modest. After a superfluous intro track, the rubbery funk of "Airwalk" is an archetypal Lissvik record. Sound design is of foremost concern: much like his fellow European house and techno producers, each drum snaps with purposeful distinctiveness. But unlike the average German techno auteur, Lissvik seeks more organic instrumentation; bass and guitar strings reverberate and the beat has a crunchy texture. Each song is more likely to recall a drum circle than a nightclub. The most "artificial" instrument are vocal patches; its aim is less dancefloor futurism than a party after the power goes out.
While "Airwalk" relies on a straightforward groove and low-key payoff, "Shuvit!" is the EP's stronger track. Underneath quarter-note doo-doo-doo-doo vocals, a fidgety groove reminiscent of People's Choice's 1975 disco record "Do It Any Way You Wanna" unfolds into a flute breakdown before a new melodic theme begins. In construction, it recalls the kind of purposeful meandering compositions of West Coast. It may not be as revelatory as that record's "Life's a Beach!", but the song creates a warm and comfortable world in which to let time slip away.
In the middle of the decade, this new Balearic music felt counterintuitive. A new school of producers embraced unfashionable sounds, calling upon Mediterranean dance history as a new source of cool. As the years slip by and these innovations enter the slipstream, the trade in new Balearic music approximates the '90s infatuation with trip-hop. An intersection of soundtrack music, kraut, disco, dub, '70s album rock, and electronic dance music, the style is worldly and referential, finding coherence in the spaces where old genres intersect. The end result—most of the time—is a kind of upscale lifestyle music for cosmopolitan, historically-minded listeners, where artists toy with ambiance in an effort to tap into the mystique of the past, the foreign, and the exotic.
Which is a long way of saying that sometimes the line between "comfortable" and "boring" is thin. On the one hand, it's hard to fault Lissvik for running on a track he knows: The ground may be worn down, but it's the kind of idea that bears repeating. Anyone unfamiliar with Studio's history will no doubt find Shuvit! pleasant. But even by those standards, nothing here is as transcendent as, say, Todd Terje's "Inspector Norse"—a late entrant into the Balearic banger sweepstakes. If you liked West Coast and want a couple of b-sides, check out Shuvit!. If you haven't heard West Coast, buy it.
