Andy Stott Puts a Voice on Top of the Damage

Andy Stott's new album lands on Modern Love, the Manchester label that has carried nearly his whole catalogue, and it continues the work he has been doing for two decades: rhythm processed until it sounds recovered rather than recorded, tempos that sag, low end that arrives a fraction late and stays too long. The shift here is the voice. Vocal material has appeared throughout his records, usually buried, treated as another texture to be degraded. Putting it on top changes the emotional register completely. Melancholy that comes from processing is atmospheric; melancholy that comes from someone singing is specific, and it is addressed to somebody. That is a more exposed position for a producer who built a reputation on obscuring things. Modern Love remains the right context for this. The label releases little, explains less and designs sleeves that give nothing away, which has turned out to be a far better long-term strategy than any amount of campaign planning. Records on it tend to still be circulating years later, because nothing about them was built for a release week. This is music that needs a system and a room. On a phone speaker it is a rumour. At volume, from the top, the thing works the way it was designed to: slowly, cumulatively, and with a sense that the recording itself has been through something.

Label: Modern Love.