philip sherburne

The neverending yawning jawn

How fucking much do I love these new remixes for M83? Superpitcher's version of "Don't Save Us from the Flames" sounds like it's on some U2 Unforgettable Fire shit, all ostsinato bung-bung-bung-bung on the piano and monstrous, cavernous Red Rocks ginormity that makes you want to fling your puny ass into space and float for eternity. And then the zipgun bassline assumes the position just as some Sigur Ros falsetto tomfoolery comes howling down to hover like a spaceship promising sweet annihilation. (And I'm not even going to go into the bridge, which sounds like coming up all over again, high piling upon high like an eternal internal kaleidoscope.) No one else could make ten and a half minutes sound so effortless — well, no one except Luciano, maybe, who extracts "Teen Angst"'s vocals ("How fast we burn/ How fast we die," stumbling like a winedrunk from fifths to shivering seconds) and isolates them like a precious element, twisting out five minutes of shoegaze overdrive into nearly a dozen of wristslit minimalism, outsized expressionism straining against a grid of shooming kick drums and saskatooning congas. And then, yeah, all over again, those angelic vocals like a climber's grip for the come-up, and some billowy New Order landing pads underneath, just in case. Please, god, let me hear this out — in the open, preferably at sunup — just once this year.

If it's not clear from the above, let me reiterate: (Nova)mute deserves a fucking medal this year. Lawrence, Motor, these mixes, Luciano's Tim Wright mix from last year — someone over there is doing something very, very right.