The word ‘experimental’ gets bandied around a lot in the electronic underground, and often it feels a bit disingenuous. Most of the time, great dance music emerges not as the product of an experiment, but of a continual refinement of its craft. Many excellent producers spend less time venturing outside the box than searching for the corners of hidden beauty within. I get the impression that Shoal is this kind of producer. Irama, recently released on Casablanca label Tikita, is refreshingly straightforward: four tracks of effective, tactile deep techno.

The EP shoots for immediate dancefloor impact and lands upon a utilitarian sound: one that would feel vaguely familiar for most heads but still unique enough to captivate a diverse club audience. Its genealogy is pleasantly elusive. Irama feels most indebted to the lowlit, functional techno coming out of the Netherlands (think labels like Nous’klaer), but African hand percussion embellishments and a distinctly Chicagoan emphasis on groove lend the EP a raw, magnetic energy. Pitched somewhere in between the industrial chill of Berlin techno and the more organic, percussive sound of UK techno, it is difficult to precisely pin down the source of Shoal’s inspiration. This is a good thing. It gives Irama a timeless quality, and I can imagine DJ’s continuing to deploy a song like ‘Gerakan’ on dancefloors five years from now.

The sound design on display is pristinely controlled. At its core, Irama is powered by insistent bass throbs EQ’d so warmly that it is difficult not to be moving by the second bar of each track. Conscious not to clutter the mix, every other element takes on a supporting role in service of the bass. The hi-hats and snares on Irama sound gently low-pass filtered, and come across subtler than what you might find on a conventional European techno release. There is precious little melody anywhere to be found, but that only goes to highlight the dynamic, earworm-y nature of Shoal’s synth bass sequences. Beneath it all, a consistent layer of windswept, atmospheric noise lends a raw, elemental resonance to the EP.

Each song on Irama has an enveloping, slyly psychedelic quality that rewards close listening. ‘Gerakan’ and ‘Irama’, the two tracks that make up the more immediate, floor-filling A-side, play with tension and release, gathering urgency and potential energy for minutes at a time before falling into drops so understated you might not even notice the grin forming on your face. On ‘Irama’, though, the first two moments of release turn out to be a bit of a false dawn – with about 30 seconds to spare, Shoal plunges the sub-bass to Mariana Trench depths, saving the best payoff for the dancers/DJs willing to stick it out to the end. The EP’s B-side forgoes some of this intensity to move in a more hypnotic direction. The loping dub techno of ‘Naik’ gradually snowballs into an awesome, swirling behemoth, while a hazardous acid line ushers ‘Obelique’ into shadowy, ominous territory.

There is something sensational and shapeshifting about Irama. Shoal doesn’t play up these songs with emotion, but they are loaded with feeling. There is a thick, warm darkness that palpably surrounds each track. You can almost taste the smoke in the air. Close your eyes, and you can see the strobelit figures in the dark, dancing in stop-motion.

83

Sam Gollings

29 November 2023