DARKSIDE On Nothing And Everything Else
DARKSIDE materialized in 2011, bridging patchouli-stained guitar jamming and slinky electronic darkness. The duo’s full-length debut, Psychic, saw founders Nicolas Jaar and Dave Harrington crafting what sounded like the Grateful Dead catering to leather-clad clubbers. The acclaim Psychic garnered pushed the then 20-something duo to the forefront of the indie landscape, making them chic outliers in an era dominated by lackadaisical dream pop. As a high school rock purist playing in punk bands, falling in love with the project’s iconic 2013 Boiler Room session felt like alluring sacrilege. Sure, Harrington’s noodling was clearly indebted to CAN, and Jaar’s deep talk-singing reminiscent of Scott Walker. But these rocky elements were outlined by a danceable, synthetic pulse that felt worlds removed from the DIY spaces I grew up immersed in.
DARKSIDE faded into oblivion as easily as they loitered into the world. As the band lay dormant throughout the latter half of the 2010s, Jaar and Harrington flourished separately. Jaar was already a rising avant-garde composer and techno artist before DARKSIDE, but Psychic helped cement his place as an all-time electronic great. He continued to test the boundaries of sound art on exceptional records, such as 2016’s Sirens and 2020’s Cenizas, in addition to running the label Other People. Harrington spent years prolifically gigging in the Brooklyn scene, working with projects including ARMS and Lights Fluorescent. Following a move to the West Coast, he has become a pivotal figure in the Los Angeles underground, releasing jazz albums that have called on collaborators ranging from Patrick Shiroishi to Kenny Wollesen. “I think it’s the best part of this band,” Harrington tells me over Zoom, when asked about the ways in which he and Jaar have evolved individually. “What we get to do is show up as ourselves here.”
DARKSIDE resurfaced in 2021 with the album Spiral, the project subtly rearranging the shapes of their sonic roots. Like Psychic, Spiral seemed to emerge from a cloud of incense smoke, conveyed through acid-washed fretwork and backlit atmospherics. But the motorik, head-nodding grooves of Psychic were less prevalent, yielding an album more geared towards dank grow rooms than dusky rooftop parties. Spiral’s easygoing quality may have been a reflection of the laid-back way in which DARKSIDE reunited. “When we started to get the band back together, it was not super calculated,” Harrington tells me jovially. “We had the time, and we made time for each other to make music. It had been too long. It sounded like something that both of us wanted and needed at the time. Some of those years flew by, and I just woke up one day and I was, like, ‘Wait, what happened to our band? Let’s make music!'”
A relatively brief three and a half years after Spiral brought Jaar and Harrington out from the shadows, DARKSIDE are back with their third record, Nothing. This time around, the pair are joined by a new full-time member, percussionist and sensory instrument designer Tlacael Esparza. The three have worked together in various permutations for roughly two decades, so Esparza was the first person Jaar and Harrington thought to call up when figuring out how to reconfigure their live show. Nothing accidentally sparked while the trio were touring France in support of Spiral, with a few days to kill between shows and access to an impressive studio. That freewheeling, improvisational downtime was fruitful, and loose ideas gradually morphed into proper songs. “Once we had that first little burst of momentum, then we were, like, ‘Yeah, we can find a record in here,'” Harrington reminiscences. The rest of Nothing was finalized in a nonlinear way, fragments rearranged into firmer structures as the trio worked in week-long chunks that demanded intense focus. When it was all said and done, Esparza had quietly enmeshed himself in DARKSIDE.
Though Jaar claims to not consider himself a singer or lyricist, his vocals are at the forefront of Nothing. His words soar over fluorescent grooves, serving as a unique aural texture doused in oceanic reverb and choppy processing. “The way we see singing and lyrics is like another aspect of the production,” Jaar muses. “We’ll treat the voice, often, like another instrument to a certain extent, putting it through similar effects that we’ll put on a guitar or drums or whatever.” When questioned about the themes that define the record, he likens the songs to little ghosts that end up haunting him. The narrative of the record is dictated by the music itself, and Jaar describes his process as a frontman as “intuitive and guttural.”
On Nothing, DARKSIDE sounds less like an electronic group than ever, landing somewhere in between krautrock, funk, and disco. Nonetheless, the album is unmistakably their doing — a brittle gesture to motion. “If you can move to noise music, then it’s better,” Jaar says. “If you can move to jazz, then it’s great. There’s the genre dance music, and then there’s music that you can dance to. Those are actually very different things.” As Jaar, Harrington, and Esparza prepare to interpret these songs on stage, for their first major tour since the Psychic days, they relish the ability to pursue DARKSIDE without the challenges posed by never ending stretches on the road and demanding release cycles. Nothing captures the outcome of three virtuosic musicians taking a break from adult life to disappear into a heady hive mind.
PEAK TIME
Rotate - "Cash Swing"
Well Street Records is a vital destination for distorted, broken beat tracks. The London-based label has backed feisty EPs from the likes of Yushh and Cousin, in addition to releases from a slew of lower profile UK artists. Well Street’s latest arrives via Rotate, who serves up nasty dubstep and garage on the aptly titled EP Lower Hz. On “Cash Swing,” slippery 2-step drums support bass blasts that sputter and wiggle. The track is lithe and nuclear, tied together by gloom.
9:OZ - "AC"
Tanner Matt is a low-profile staple of the thriving Vancouver house sphere, orbiting stellar labels including Acting Press, Future Times, and Mood Hut. While he is perhaps best known for his Hashman Deejay persona, he has also released music beneath monikers including Ttam Renat and in collaborative projects such as 0 and INT*era. Across these endeavours, Matt finds ways to merge skunky ambience and old school rhythmic grit. The latest upload to Matt’s Bandcamp page arrived with little context or fanfare and appears under the alias 9:OZ. The A-side, “AC,” retains Matt’s fingerprint, with gritty, shape shifting mystique. Across 10 minutes, a nasty bassline and grainy drums are offset by an undulating, organ-like lead. The rhythms rarely line up in any conventional way, creating the effect of a ’90s deep house cut devouring itself like an ouroboros.
Baltra - "Echoes Of Us"
Baltra came up at the forefront of the 2010s lofi house boom. The New York City-based DJ has kept things fresh and fluid as trends have evolved, exploring everything from hyper garage to trip hop. Baltra’s new single, “Echoes Of Us,” finds him toying with trance, a jittery synthesizer lead tip toeing over rubber band low end. The saxophone-like timbre humming in the background keeps the track true to Baltra’s signature suaveness. “Echoes Of Us” contrasts Goa gaudiness with a sleek undercurrent.
not even noticed - "Hidden Ground"
On releases for labels including Holding Hands and Chat Noir Records, German duo not even noticed have honed a dynamic style of electro. Their music is zippy and toe-tapping but still feels like it could float away as easily as a balloon injected with too much helium. not even noticed’s new EP for Scottish institution Craigie Knowes, Beneath The Surface, is their airiest to date, all choppy hi hats and glittery aural design. Opening cut “Hidden Ground” is built on a sturdy chassis of techno drums and biting synthesizer stabs. The introduction of a 303 acid bass midway through heightens “Hidden Ground”‘s verve. At its most commanding, the track still offers a refined glimpse at not even noticed.
Triš - "Not Too Alive"
Triš is a Ukranian artist, now based in Berlin, who operates at the intersection of ambient, art pop, and trip hop. I discovered her music through the stellar Buttechno collaborative album In Your Head, which paints skittering breaks in drab hues. Triš’ new album for emerging Berlin label, mix platform, and party series Kontext, Songs, is an innovative interpretation of Ukrainian pop. Across eight tracks, Triš’ feathery singing crests through a surf of imposing production. Closing track “Not Too Alive” strikes this emotive balance particularly well, Triš’ pessimistic refrain chopped up, pitch shifted, and contrasted by clattering effects and bloopy beatmaking. It’s simultaneously despondent and euphoric.
Roza Terenzi - "Sweatbox"
As Roza Terenzi, Berlin-based Australian Katie Campbell creates boisterous music with deceptive nuance. The new EP for her Step Ball Chain label, Ministry Of Wish, sets its sights on movement, in a state of frenetic elevation. “Sweatbox” lives up to its steamy title, populating a tech house frame with squiggly, dissonant effects. There’s a retro chintziness that allows “Sweatbox” to mimic some unearthed teenage memory from a perfect festival afternoon.
djfix & Jek - "Coyote Club (Human Space Machine Remix)"
Earth Dog Records is becoming a staple of the New York City underground. Over roughly five years, Earth Dog has morphed from a scrappy internet radio show to a SoundCloud mix series to a label, platforming stellar prog house along the way. This month, Earth Dog unveiled its first DIY party in Brooklyn, which was a vital destination for clued-in local ravers. Around the same time, the Earth Dog imprint backed an EP from founders djfix and Jek, which taps into clacking, trancey magic. The highlight arrives on a remix from Human Space Machine. The excellent Netherlands-based producer flips the lively original version of “Coyote Club” into deeper techno. It strikes a commendable balance between energy and intrigue.
Baalti - "Loose Leaf"
Baalti fuse up to the minute dance flavors with traditional South Asian samples, for a formula that is equally proud and propulsive. The New York City duo of Indian-American producers Jaiveer Singh and Mihir Chauhan emerged in 2021, with a daylit take on lofi house. But their new EP for Steel City Dance Discs, Mela, finds Baalti tackling bass music, paying tribute to West Bengal’s rich culture of soundclash competitions. Closing track “Loose Leaf” is built on jingling hand percussion, snappy cross-stick thwacks, and dubstep bass swells. A chopped up voice snippet ties it all together — a gripping banger with thoughtful intent.
Pangaea & Leonce - "Stuck"
Pangaea and Leonce are club staples from both sides of the Atlantic. UK legend Pangaea is a co-founder of Hessle Audio — alongside Pearson Sound and Ben UFO — zapping oddball ideas with imaginative static in his original productions. Leonce is a veteran of the party circuit in the American South, pondering club music’s roots while pushing the genre to kinetic, genre-bent places. The duo have teamed up for a 12-inch issued by fabric originals. The B-side, “Stuck,” opens with mesmerizing bongos and a muddy vocal line. It builds to a stuttering climax, which bridges baile funk, Detroit techno, and garage in spunky ways.
Mount Kimbie - "Boxing (DJ Python Remix)” (Feat. King Krule)
Mount Kimbie’s last full length, 2024’s The Sunset Violent, found the seasoned duo expanding into a full band lineup and dabbling with indie rock. The shoegaze-tinged record is doused in California sunshine and feels far removed from the UK clubs Mount Kimbie cut their teeth playing in the late 2000s. But DJ Python’s heavenly remix of the King Krule featuring song “Boxing” walks Mount Kimbie back towards its roots. DJ Python’s version unfurls with looped, breathy sighs and hypnotic minimal drums — a dead ringer for the Field during the project’s mid 2000s prime. Released shortly after DJ Python’s brooding, reggaeton-laced single with Isabella Lovestory, “Besos Robados,” this past month has found him effortlessly asserting range.
THE AFTERS
