Somehow the news of Stilluppsteypa’s new album slipped past me until I was alerted by my friend Gestur. I have a number of their early singles, as well as their most recent albums Stilluppsteypa (2004) and Beach Jolanda (2018), plus a number of releases by member and visual artist Sigtryggur Berg Sigmarsson, many of which are partnerships with BJNilsen. All that is to say, I have a bit of an idea of what I’m in for… and it’s going to be weird in the best ways possible.
And right from the needle drop on “Downtown Club Owner”, it’s on. A distant, machinery-like beat overlaid with a screeching reminiscent of a failing fan belt, but quickly pivoting to something more… more… hydrophonic? Is that a thing? Because I definitely feel submerged. It’s not the number of disparate elements that forces you to concentrate, but how quickly things transition from one pattern, one sonic palette, to the next. And the next. And the next. Am I underwater or inside machine? Is it day or night? Am I sane or… something else?
The first three tracks play through as if one continuous song, though one comprised of many disparate parts, little micro-compositions that sometimes later re-appear in somewhat altered forms. The sudden halt to “No Need To Thank Meme” is therefore all the more jarring, and it’s transition to the warbly “Second Rate Quality Good Stuff” will make you wonder for a moment of something is wrong with your turntable. But have no fear, my friends, the trilling will gain in intensity until it all falls apart to flow into the start of “Look What The Dog Bought In”, it’s more steady beat lulling you into a certain sense of security, though one overlaid with oscillations and waves and curves. There is something new around every corner, and boy are there a lot of corners.
And… it was at this point that I realized I was listening to the record on 45rpm instead of 33 1/3. <sigh>. But you know… it didn’t feel wrong at 45rpm. If anything it was just more uptempo, a bit more Kraftwerk-ey. At the slower speed it becomes more introspective, a current that runs deeper, the waves stretched out, the frequency periods longer, even a bit languid at times. It’s a different vibe but… not a significantly different one. And I kinda like that about it. There’s a certain versatility about it.
Schokolino Choco Loco is available for streaming on Spotify, but why not instead head over to the Futura Resistenza label Bandcamp page HERE, where you can purchase it both digitally and on vinyl.