Birdsnake Begins (Remixed)

Birdsnake

The art of the remix album is not lost on precisely two artists I am aware of in the world: Kelela and Birdsnake, a band so grassroots that their name is known better in their home city of Naarm for being a brand of chocolate (seriously, google ‘Birdsnake’). That’s not to say that Birdsnake are nobodies – they are a well-loved figure within a particularly decadent and funked-up corner of the Naarm music scene alongside bands like Intermood and Jerry. Still, I reserve the right to be surprised that such a heads-only band would be capable of turning out an immaculately calibrated LP within a long-misunderstood format.

Eleven tracks and 59 minutes is a good start. Immediately, there’s a level of respect there for what a remix album should be: patient, to let new interpretations of existing music explore unchartered terrain; yet focused, so the record remains tractable as a complete body of work. Not a lot of artists have the reverence for a true remix project to do the former, and not a lot of committed remix albums succeed in doing the latter. Remixed is an ego-free, genuinely curious exploration of what Birdsnake Begins could have been if it were filtered through the lens of likeminded contemporaries.

Which is to say, Remixed is an hour of compulsively listenable dance music. It’s sort of an unspoken reality of being a fan of electronic music that you encounter a lot of stuff that is strictly-speaking good but kind of transient – not the sort of thing you’re going to return to much at home, with headphones on, and not something you’re likely to end up hearing on a big rig unless you’re close to a coastline in Tisno or woodland in Amsterdam. It is wonderfully palate-cleansing to hear a full-length dance record that keeps you coming back for more.

Too often, a remix tacked on to the end of an EP can feel like a necessary clause, a chore. Remixed feels like it was a joy to create. Downtempo has been absolutely rinsed in the past few years as producers took notice of the chug wave and boiled the sound down to a formula. How life-affirming, then, it is to hear Nick Verwey (as Dawn Again) and Pat Carroll (as Pers Comm) stretch out and luxuriate in the real sound of chug on their remixes of ‘The Redeemer’ and ‘Phlusta’ respectively. Verwey takes advantage of the punchy, in-the-pocket groove of ‘The Reedemer’ – pretty nice source material – and ratchets up the dub effects below the surface of the original track. Paired with cosmic pads, Verwey’s version gives ‘The Reedemer’ the wondrous feeling of hurtling through space. Carroll’s take on ‘Phlusta’ feels more terraneous, with rusty trip-hop drums and a strutting bassline, until the appearance of a flute at the halfway mark lifts the track into a state of weightless bliss.

Other tracks retain an equivalent sense of whimsy. Naarm underground hero Jon Jones turns out two wacky remixes here, reworking ‘The Redeemer’ into a goblin stomp and then delivering the album’s glorious highlight, an Italo disco flip of ‘Pressure Point’ that feels destined to soundtrack the party scene in a coming-of-age film where balloons fall from the rafters in slow motion. Cooper Dodge’s house remix of ‘Phlusta’ is minimal by name but detailed by nature – coated in wistful pads and playfully speckled with chimes, whistles and grainy drum knocks. Birdsnake’s very own Cobsonics whips ‘The Redeemer’ into a wickedly funky drum workout, while Indonesian up-and-comer Sattle comes through with a fluttery 2-step edit of ‘Pressure Point’ made for Sunday 9am rejuvenation and misty-eyed friend hugs.

I feel like I’m repeating a handful of track titles over and over. There are three remixes of ‘The Redeemer’ here, four of ‘Phlusta’, and two of ‘Pressure Point’, leaving just a couple dubby funk cuts to round off the record (closer ‘Ice Cream’ being a Birdsnake original). Yet the fact that Remixed spends 52 of its 59 minutes wheeling up alternate editions of the same three songs truly doesn’t seem to matter when listening through the album. It’s remarkable how distinct each successive remix sounds. If you let yourself get lost in the music – easy to do – you might fool yourself into forgetting that these aren’t original, individual compositions. Remixed manages to evoke surprisingly varied feelings from track to track: redemptive to flirty; mysterious to kitschy; slick to simply pleasant. Above all, though, it feels cool. Cool in the sense that it’s a really admirable artistic endeavour to create an album of great music and then continue to explore the potential of that music in a thoughtful, collaborative way. Something something what can be, unburdened by what has been.

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Sam Gollings

16 August 2024