Panda Su - I Begin (Peter Panda Records)

By releasing a gentle lull of a record which delights in its beautiful simplicity, Panda Su embarks on her recording career with astounding poise and sensitivity. Rising out from an over abundance of singer-songwriter acts, it might just be worth your time.

Having grown up in the Scottish Highlands, the Folk scene of the rugged north has clearly influenced her melancholy acoustic attitude. Her voice, conventional at first, later reveals a personal tone crucial to any serious minded poet. She relays dreamy and nostalgic tales of lazy days spent deep in thought: ‘I am younger then I was then’. Unlike a lot of solo artists of a similar nature, she also provides the words with the respect they deserve (I have a particular hatred for singers who force in ‘woooaaahs’, ‘ooohhs’ and other ad-lib filler clogging up the mix with self love.)

The producer, Robin Sutherland has taken special care to allow Panda Su’s guitar to shape to the song structure instead of dominating it. It leaves space for a desk-drawer collection of incidental sounds (a glockenspiel, feedback drenched waves, scratching percussion) to quietly gleam away in the background. No single element takes precedence over another and as a result, each of the four songs on I Begin feels complete, full of life and pleasantly tuneful.

‘The Bee’, along with its theme of innocence lost, samples as its opening rhythm a clock ticking and being wound back up. Gazing inwards, the EP’s title track contains a haunting guitar riff dripping like summer rain. Panda Su is Twee with backbone; wisely produced and satisfying Folk-pop perfection.

(© Copyright 2011 Brendan Morgan)

The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble - From The Stairwell (Denovali Records)

The infinite spiral staircase on the album cover, spiralling upwards into pitch black shadow rises out of the very core of The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble’s newest release. Sinister and yet somehow inviting, like the music inside, it recalls the noir atmosphere of art house cinema: dark Paris streets, the smell of rotten wood, empty rooms in the dilapidated parts of the sprawl.

Native of the Jazz-mad Netherlands and originally banded to write music ‘for existing and non-existing films’, TKDE’s emphasis on ‘the mood’ as they call it is achieved by a dense layering of sound and by creepy, jarring changes (‘All Is One’ begins on a windy, rugged plane before moving into a seedy and shadowy bar where an unnerving bastardisation of lounge Jazz is being crooned.) Seamlessly blending techniques and styles plucked from many genres, it flickers from Bonobo, Jagga Jazzist, Massive Attack and the grandiose approach of A Silver Mount Zion Memorial Orchestra. Is it Post Rock? Is it futuristic Jazz? Is it IDM?

Even though these days the term has been pretty well worn thin, From The Stairwell is very much a concept album taking the listener on a surreal trip up that staircase on the cover. But the story they’ve attached to the album doesn’t necessarily define it. Records like this remind you that categories are ultimately pointless. TKDE’s music has always been perfectly happy to melt into the background and play out as a backdrop to the musings of the interpreter.

At first, ‘Godard Delusion’ calls us in with a troop of gypsy violinists over breezy and expressive drums. Then, gradually, it opens out into a watery guitar melody. ‘Giallo’ slithers along with its low saxophone while ‘Celladoor’ (yes, Donnie Darko does come to mind) builds from a drifting and dangerous atmosphere into an air of dark romance.

These four tracks I streamed from their record label’s website were enough to certify a few things: From The Stairwell retains the recognisable down-tempo tone and instrumental structure of their previous work (echoing trumpets, slow drones and brushes on cymbals) but it also sees the band pulling the mix back and refining their improvisational style for a more acoustic flavour. A stunning mixture of musicianship and late night, candle lit cool, this is music to smoke clove cigarettes and read Beat poetry to.

(© Copyright 2011 Brendan Morgan)