Skip to main content

Hifi Sean – FT. Excursions (Plastique Recordings)

Over thirty-odd years, Sean Dickson's musical journey has been a wonder to behold. From fronting Buzzcocks inspired Glasgow shamblers turned Baggy love-gods the Soup Dragons, Dickson's sideways move to psych-pop troupe The High Fidelity was nothing compared to the full-blown damascene dance-floor conversion that eventually followed. Since then, Dickson's euphoric adventures as a DJ and producer under the Hifi Sean moniker have sounded as far away from the Bellshill scene he came out of as can be.

2016's Ft. album capitalised on Dickson's eclectic connections with a hands-in-the-air grab-bag of beat-heavy confections featuring an all-star cast of guest vocalists and artistes. These ranged from Yoko Ono and Bootsy Collins to B52 Fred Schneider singing about trucks and Suicide's Alan Vega's last recording. As if such an array of synthesised soul, poppers-friendly floor-fillers and banging techno-abstractions wasn't out there enough, there was even an appearance from Maggie K De Monde, one time chanteuse with 1980s one-hit wonders Swans Way. Best of all was the opening rush of House diva Crystal Waters' piano-led soul-gospel anthem, Testify.

As joyous as such a package remains, listening to a whirl of high-energy musical gymnastics on a drizzly Tuesday afternoon can be pretty exhausting if there's no dance-floor in sight. Perhaps it was with this in mind that Ft. Excursions has been invented. Styled as Ft.'s 'little sister' and released on white vinyl in a limited edition of 300 for this year's Record Store Day, its contents are designed for the sort of after parties where the sun is cracking the flags both inside and out. Where the original album is a jaunty hands-in-the-air extravaganza, this new set of constructions sees a welter of producers throw off-kilter googlies into a mix designed to keep the come-down at bay.

The opening Sunset Dub mix of Monday Morning Sunshine, finds Western Isles based chanteuse Jean Honeymoon coming to woozy blissed-out life after a long weekend siesta before the party kicks in once more. Dickson has just co-produced Honeymoon's first solo record, Beginnings, and here adds a bass-heavy pulse that courses throughout the album, as choir, strings and harps conspire to suggest Honeymoon is nestling into some celestial dreamland where angels play.

The original squelch of Atomium finds dub specialist Ray Mang and Horse Meat Disco's Severino
ramping up the synthesised handclaps with some busy bongos and old-school House melodies on their Dub Revision of the Bootsy Collins fronted track. Collins himself free-associates his lascivious intentions over the top of this by way of a set of hyper-delic chat-up lines. Dressed up with science-fiction bump and grind trappings, the song zooms this way and that before vocoder starbursts nip in on the blind side. 'You can put your butt out in my ash-tray, baby' indeed.

There are even more rockets ahoy on the Omnichord Dub version of Like Josephine Baker. Here, David McAlmont's soaring vocal is wrapped up in skittery beats laced with other-worldly sprinkles that accelerate upwards from an instrument previously embraced by Dickson on the High Fidelity's second album, hinted at by its title of The Omnichord Album. This featured a track co-written with John Peel after Dickson gave an omnichord to the legendary radio DJ for his sixtieth birthday. Here, the instrument's addition makes for a trip-happy extended version on which McAlmont's voice drops in and out of a bass-heavy stew

Dickson's original take on 18th featured Teenage Fanclub mainstay and the only member of Dickson's roster who is from the same musical pedigree, Norman Blake. If the song's shuffly beats already betrayed Dickson's indie-dance roots, French remixer Azaxx' Late Night Reprise heightens it even more. Blake's multi-tracked vocal is a melancholy downer wrapped up in a swirly-whirly groove that carries on dancing like its 1992 regardless.

Ft.'s breakout crossover moment belonged to Testify, on which Crystal Waters proved herself a major vocal force over a mix of chapel house gospel piano and party time beats. The In Flagranti Replay is moulded into shape here by Swiss-based beat-meisters Alex Gloor and Sasha Crnobrnja. It burbles and bounces with after-hours promise punctuated by deconstructed echoes of gossamer melodies, before taking a back seat and letting Waters' largely unadorned voice have its glorious day.

Yoko Ono's spoken paean to joy that forms the basis of In Love with Life does away with the string-heavy melancholy of its original form, and in its reworking by Midnight Records' Yam Who? is transformed into a funkier Little Fluffy Clouds for self-help conceptualists.

The appearance of Alan Vega on A Kiss Before Dying had already been lent a poignant weight by the death of Suicide's iconic vocalist shortly after Ft was released. The original song's organ and wicka-wacka percussion suggested a downbeat crime caper set in a post-punk NY dystopia, with its stentorian chorales give it an elegiac classicist edge. The Jackie House Bullets Workout built here by San Francisco disco deviants Honey Soundsystem strip things back to an even greater sense of foreboding. Vega's incantations are left to echo over each other, punching out urgent little epistles like some street corner sooth-sayer in this starkest intimation of mortality. 

Jungle drums usher in the Le Mongrel Midnight Trip take on You're Just Another Song, before Little Annie slinks in. To a backdrop of red velvet strings, the club-land legend peels back the drapes to purr with the nonchalance of an off-duty diva over an arrangement that fleshes out the brooding minimalist techno of the original.

As sublime a bank-holiday ball as there is to be had here, five of Ft.'s original tracks by Ms De Monde, Schneider, Soft Cell and Apollo 440 electronicist Dave Ball, Paris Grey of Detroit techno legends Inner City and German diva Billie Ray Martin remain untouched by Dickson and co's sonic alchemy. The scope for a second volume of Ft. Excursions, then, is plentiful. Same time next year, perhaps?

Product, April 2017

ends

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Losing Touch With My Mind - Psychedelia in Britain 1986-1990

DISC 1 1. THE STONE ROSES   -  Don’t Stop 2. SPACEMEN 3   -  Losing Touch With My Mind (Demo) 3. THE MODERN ART   -  Mind Train 4. 14 ICED BEARS   -  Mother Sleep 5. RED CHAIR FADEAWAY  -  Myra 6. BIFF BANG POW!   -  Five Minutes In The Life Of Greenwood Goulding 7. THE STAIRS  -  I Remember A Day 8. THE PRISONERS  -  In From The Cold 9. THE TELESCOPES   -  Everso 10. THE SEERS   -  Psych Out 11. MAGIC MUSHROOM BAND  -  You Can Be My L-S-D 12. THE HONEY SMUGGLERS  - Smokey Ice-Cream 13. THE MOONFLOWERS  -  We Dig Your Earth 14. THE SUGAR BATTLE   -  Colliding Minds 15. GOL GAPPAS   -  Albert Parker 16. PAUL ROLAND  -  In The Opium Den 17. THE THANES  -  Days Go Slowly By 18. THEE HYPNOTICS   -  Justice In Freedom (12" Version) ...

Edinburgh Rocks – The Capital's Music Scene in the 1950s and Early 1960s

Edinburgh has always been a vintage city. Yet, for youngsters growing up in the shadow of World War Two as well as a pervading air of tight-lipped Calvinism, they were dreich times indeed. The founding of the Edinburgh International Festival in 1947 and the subsequent Fringe it spawned may have livened up the city for a couple of weeks in August as long as you were fans of theatre, opera and classical music, but the pubs still shut early, and on Sundays weren't open at all. But Edinburgh too has always had a flipside beyond such official channels, and, in a twitch-hipped expression of the sort of cultural duality Robert Louis Stevenson recognised in his novel, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, a vibrant dance-hall scene grew up across the city. Audiences flocked to emporiums such as the Cavendish in Tollcross, the Eldorado in Leith, The Plaza in Morningside and, most glamorous of all due to its revolving stage, the Palais in Fountainbridge. Here the likes of Joe Loss and Ted Heath broug...

Carla Lane – The Liver Birds, Mersey Beat and Counter Cultural Performance Poetry

Last week's sad passing of TV sit-com writer Carla Lane aged 87 marks another nail in the coffin of what many regard as a golden era of TV comedy. It was an era rooted in overly-bright living room sets where everyday plays for today were acted out in front of a live audience in a way that happens differently today. If Lane had been starting out now, chances are that the middlebrow melancholy of Butterflies, in which over four series between 1978 and 1983, Wendy Craig's suburban housewife Ria flirted with the idea of committing adultery with successful businessman Leonard, would have been filmed without a laughter track and billed as a dramady. Lane's finest half-hour highlighted a confused, quietly desperate and utterly British response to the new freedoms afforded women over the previous decade as they trickled down the class system in the most genteel of ways. This may have been drawn from Lane's own not-quite free-spirited quest for adventure as she moved through h...