When I reviewed Christopher Dallman's recent single Lightspeed, I was mightily impressed at how well Christopher was pulling off the bold new direction he had taken, moving from his acoustic indie-folk beginnings to a sound made up of purely electronic instrumentation. To do this over one single is impressive, but across an entire album takes some skill. I'm glad to say that Christopher has achieved this. In Digital Blue he has made a fantastic album that stands on it's own as a collection of startlingly beautiful songs that showcase Christopher's talents better than ever before.
What is most remarkable about Digital Blue is that, by itself, it doesn't sound like a reinvention. Without knowing about Christopher's previous output, you wouldn't think that this was an artist taking steps into a new musical world; and in a way, that is because it isn't. For those who remember Futurama, and those who know it well enough to have repeatedly watched every series (no shame here!) you might remember a moment where the Planet Express ship's hyper-drive was explained to not actually be moving the ship through space, but rather moving the entire universe around the ship while it remained static. As weird as that analogy might be, I feel it is a great way to think of Digital Blue; it feels like Christopher is the Planet Express ship, maintaining his position as a delicate and emotional singer-songwriter and moving the musical world around him so that what once appeared as an acoustic neo-folk singer now appears as a tender electro-pop crooner. The same minimalist song-writing skills remain and the same penchant for a poignant yet impassioned delivery remains, but the context is no longer purely analogue.
Lightspeed is the opening track, and as good as it was on the first few listens, it's a track that grows on you even more as the soft hooks become increasingly familiar and the subtle details become more apparent. With it's melancholic positivity it's a perfect introduction to the record, a strong tune in it's own right but also a perfect set-up for the rest of the album. How I Swim is an immediate change of tone into something much darker, with a production more akin to something on the first few Grimes albums. It's got an almost effervescent atmosphere to it and the piano and synths are impeccably balanced against the rolling beat. When he sings “I'll be home before the night fall”, that word “night” is the one that stands out; this song automatically transports you to the dark dichotomy of night-time city streets, a world both expansive and claustrophobic in it's nature.
Highway Lines kicks off in a much funkier R'n'B style, with that unmistakable sound of an 808 creating a driving beat that envelopes the song; it's the best beat on the record by far, and I'd have loved to hear more beats like this on the album. There is a deliberate temperateness when the addictive chorus kicks in, and as the electronics continue to layer up the track feels like it could burst into a huge flourish at any point. The fact that it doesn't is not a disappointment though; quiet restraint is where Christopher's dulcet tones are at their best, especially when he utilises his falsetto in backing vocal harmonies to elevate the melody.
There's an immediate familiarity to No Sense In Regret, and it takes me a while to put my finger on it. At first I hear Say Something Loving by The XX remade by The Postal Service, which on paper sounds pretty fantastic. It take a while for me to realise, but when the chorus hits and the feminine backing vocals appear, it comes to me that, in some strange way, this song also reminds me of Under African Skies, my favourite track from one of my favourite albums of all time, Paul Simon's Graceland. I'm not quite sure what specifically it is that reminds me of this song, but as a whole there is a similar ambience and zeal to both tracks which I find utterly compelling. Christopher's vocals are so powerful here, and it's hard not to feel quite emotional when the chorus comes in with passionate words like “When my moment came I resisted / And when my turn popped I could've gone ahead / But I let the ones behind me go instead”. The last time I felt this connected to a song about sentimentality was when I first heard Aimless Arrow by Converge - not a band I thought I would ever be bringing up in this review, but then again this album has been full of surprises so far.
If there is one part of Christopher's digital transformation that doesn't always work it is the heavily effects laden vocals which sometimes appear. They're not the main sound certainly, but with Christopher's voice being so good in it's organic form, the effects don't always seem necessary. Time Of My Life and the title track probably have the best uses of the digitised vocals though, and on these tracks it adds a strange darkness to otherwise quite wistful tunes. Digital Blue particularly is a very soulful number, and when the track bursts into full pace at the end it's one of the more spectacular moments on the album.
Butterfly is the first time the album returns to the optimism of the opening track, but in contrast the beats and basslines are the most prominent they've been at any point on the record. With the stuttering drums and fluttering bass synths, it feels like a sonic onomatopoeia for the subject matter. So High is distinctly minimal with faded vocal parts contrasting against the very direct and linear instrumental sections. It's the only time on this album where I feel a song has been under-written. Although I can understand what Christopher was aiming for here in creating a moody and spacious piece, it just feels like there is a missing moment that would give the track a real focal point.
Faith For Damn is the most surprisingly emotive song on the record, the warm synths dotted with cold electronic pulsations and darting piano notes that play out the melody. The organ is ever so slightly overdriven that it evokes the tone of a voice pushing just too far to the point where the natural grit finds it's way out. It's a fine counterpoint against Christopher's breathy delivery, which itself reminds me of the dazzling sorrow on Thursday's No Answers. As the song settles into it's rhythm the stark lines “I'm a broken man / You understand / Loving you is all I do / To tame my blue” cut through not with a sharpness, but an exquisite suppleness.
At the record's conclusion comes I Believe In You. Against the unashamedly poppy melody is a grand synthetic soundscape that pulls from almost every sonic element of the record. The female/male vocal duet is even more effective than on No Sense In Regret, and it's a superb way to finish the record. By the end it feels huge in scope but somehow retains the gorgeously tender touch that is infused across this album.
There are definitely a few stand out moments on Digital Blue, and when Christopher gets his melancholic equilibrium on point he can craft some truly incredible songs. The track-listing flows well too, and almost like a narrative there is a distinctive beginning, middle and end to the album, with emotional ups and downs throughout. Whilst there are a couple of songs that might not be as strong as others, the high points are so good that there is never a feeling of discontent. My feeling when I reviewed Lightspeed on it's own was that it was a tremendous example of how to do a stylistic change without losing the elements that made one's music great in the first place. With Digital Blue as a whole though, my feelings are elevated; this album is a demonstration of how to overcome stylistic change as a concept. This album shouldn't be seen as a mere reinvention for Christopher Dallman, but as a revolution, a revocation and a revelation.
You can pre-save Digital Blue here ahead of it's release on September 23rd, and you can view all the music videos here.
For more info and music from Christopher Dallman visit his website.
Comments
Post a Comment