There sure are a lot of you following us on Soundcloud. That makes us feel super fuzzy inside, so thanks (that's supposed to sound less sarcastic, but, y'know, sincerity is ambiguous online). In light of the growing presence over there, we felt it high time we had a bloody good rummage through all those who've clicked that big shiny 'follow' button.
It's a scattered method, that's for sure, but regardless, we're going to highlight a few acts a week that are following us on Soundcloud who we're pretty much going bananas for.
Ocean Milk is either decisively SEO-phobic/averse to social media, or just hasn't figured out how to sign up to Facebook yet; being away from these outlets means, sadly, in this day and age, there's precious few details about his identity and background. The scant morsels we do have tell us that he hails from Copenhagen, and that the acoustic psychedelia songsmith veers around Swim Deep and The War On Drugs with his narcotic noise. 'Sometimes' is melodic gold, blissed-out and somewhat apathetic, but rammed with syrupy, gloopy layers of warmth. 'Laced My Hand' bursts with harmony and distorted, blurred textures. It's intoxicated and dissonant; it sounds like a track written and recorded under the influence of a four-pack of Carlsberg, shotgunned.
Electro duo Shinamo Moki, harking from Brighton, draw upon their passions for Japanese pop culture, nature and Eastern architecture for what they describe as “sparse synths and splintering, textural percussions,” which, to give them credit, is pretty accurate. There's a spazzkid-type clattering of synthetic noise, a delicious cataclysm of post-dance/synthpop eye-twitch glee and saccharine sharpness, like razorblades in lollipops. It's gorgeously eccentric pop.
Brighton's Laurie James Ross presents a wonderful future-dance ode in the form of 'Handprints'. There's a dab of Disclosure's cleanliness, but Ross employs a wilder melodic streak and a kind of soulful energy; there's warmth in abundance. The occasional warped flutter or chopped-up vocal insinuates an avante-garde streak in Ross' sonic exploits, which although aren't present in the current offerings, have the potential to be explored in more detail over the coming months. As far as dance goes, this is righteous, club-baiting boogie-fodder.
Inspired by Wilco, Captain Beefheart, Sparklehorse and Califone, London-based alt. country firecrackers Cat Meat are an intriguing prospect (side note: is Cat Meat a great or terrible band name?). Country is a genre not regularly undertaken by us Brits, and truth be told, though Cat Meat wield banjos, harmonicas and a dusty Americana guitar style, there's not a great deal of trademark jingoism or deep-south slurs. Instead, there's a stretched-out post-rock drama, a penchant for mournful experimentation and grand, dark boldness. Halls' urban reverence or Hartheim's utter bleakness are probably more apt comparisons for the most part.