Low End Activist Vinyl, CD & Tape 5 Items

On his latest full-length, Low End Activist swerves towards weightless grime and suspended hardcore miniatures to tell a very personal story. The UK-rooted producer continues his habit of zeroing in on a distinct approach for each release, leaving a logical breadcrumb trail of soundsystem science in his wake as he channels decades of bass absorption into 14 atmospheric cuts that prize patience and precision over obvious club functionality.

Municipal Dreams plays out as a semi-autobiographical tour through the Blackbird Leys estate that the Activist grew up on. It’s a lived reflection on inequality and the ripple effect it has in working class communities, using the sonic palette to set the mood and scattering pointed samples throughout to spell out the story.

In sampling the exhaust of a stolen Subaru Impreza, ‘TWOC’ looks back to the recreational car theft which was standard entertainment for the kids in his community. There’s an underlying idea that this ‘council estate sport’ wouldn’t have been so prevalent if there were public services and opportunities presented to the scores of disaffected youth looking for somewhere to direct their energy and frustration.

In ‘Just A Number (Institutionalised)’ LEA alludes to the shattered juvenile detention system, growing up seeing friends and family members locked up at ease with little to no support on being released back into society, just meant that the same cycles of behaviour would play out over and over.

‘Violence’ samples from a short film shot by the drama division of the Blackbird Leys Youth Club to evoke the physical threat which formed a background hum to life on the estate. The industrial mechanics of the local car factory, which served an integral role as a workplace for many in the community, gets sampled in ‘They Only Come Out At Night’ while the ‘Everyone I look up to are either junkies or criminals’ sample in ‘Broke’ looks to a lack of positive role models.

Municipal Dreams isn’t a one-note indictment of life on the estate, ‘Innocence’ captures the simplicity of a child at birth before their environment has time to shape them. The Hope interludes cut through the grim honesty of the longer tracks while a subtle thread of wry humour finds its way into some of the talking heads cutting through the signature LEA murk.

But honesty is the operative word here, and the message feels all the more meaningful at a time when the UK’s social divisions are laid bare in the wake of a devastating stretch of austerity. Returning to Blackbird Leys to shoot images for the photo-zine and album cover, the Activist found the local community centre being demolished. The local pub stands derelict, its faded Welcome sign a grimly ironic portent of the options facing children of the estate in the wider world.

Funnelling his memories, hopes and fears into a singular twist on the bass weight tradition, LEA captures evocative scenes that land somewhere between kitchen sink realism and rave futurism.

The latest by UK rave reanimator Low End Activist is a nine-track suite of skeletal hardcore, pointillist drum n bass, and deprivation chamber dub, chopped and brewed in homage to the countryside sites of golden age dance gatherings: Airdrop. From Waterstock to Yarnton Road to White Horse Hill, England’s early 90’s dance summits loomed large in LEA's familial and artistic landscape as a youth, trading tapes and pumping tunes across long weekend afternoons: “Fast music to soundtrack slow days.”

An atomized stew of stabby samples, bubbling bass, airhorns, echo, and blitzed BPMs, the cuts take cues from key heroes of the “where were you in ‘92” set – Tango & DJ Ratty, Top Buzz, DJ SS, DJ Seduction, Dr. S Gachet – then fling them to the four corners. Skittery, stripped, and elevated, this is mad scientist music of voltage, vision, and rewired brains, scraped to its raw genetic essence and deployed for peak kinetic liberation.

Collage by Clayton Burke. Mastered by Joshua Eustis.

Last year Low End Activist mapped out the depth and breadth of his sound with the Hostile Utopia album on Sneaker Social Club and now he returns with a fresh payload of future shock-outs from the grimy depths of his sound well. Recent times have seen LEA releases tipping towards MC guest spots but on this EP he's turning inward with three varied, mutant workouts for soundsystem immersion.

‘Sent West' makes no bones about its inspiration from the tough, boxy end of early dubstep, but as ever the kink in the Activist's sound comes from the detail around the rhythm and his embrace of off-centre textures. ‘Neurosis' plumbs even further down in its dogged pursuit of infinite subs and dystopian atmospherics, offering the kind of subliminal, wayward stepper to tweak nervous minds to distraction. ‘Dry Chat, Wet Rag' stretches out on the B side with a phantom dub pulled from rad-blasted wastelands, caked in slime and tough enough to withstand any fallout.

Calling to mind the introspective, evocative work on the likes of Engineers Origins EP, this is LEA using the hardcore continuum to tell his most murked-out tales.

After heavy-duty releases on self-administered imprints Low End Activism and Sneaker Social Club, as well as London’s beloved graffiti-laden mutant-bass stronghold Seagrave (rip), the almighty Low End Activist makes a welcome debut with the ESP Institute. No stranger to mining distant regions the hardcore continuum and the residue of soundsystem culture at large, his relentless traversing and assembling of U.K.-specific rhythms demonstrates there is no end in sight when it comes to evolving the region’s musical gene pool. The 5-track 'Gossip Is The Devil’s Radio' strings together a smear of dystopian instrumentation—ghostly pads wrapped in melancholy, percussion that marries bleep with low resolution shrapnel, and vocal fragments that resemble a control tower’s two-way radio on the fritz—all imperfectly focused through a damaged lens of dancehall. We’re drawn to a dull moan that pervades throughout the record, reminiscent of the nihilistic moments in Abigail Meade’s score to 'Full Metal Jacket' where the sonics resemble a slow churn of molten steel occasionally punctuated and pierced by crystalline shards. The depth between the bone dry immediate foreground and distant wet background creates an exquisite sense of longing which isn’t inherently dark or menacing, but seductively bleak. As voyeurs, we may certainly appreciate the aesthetic LEA portrays, but we can’t fully comprehend the sense of escapism rooted within this music without having come of age in the damp and restless confines of England on the cusp of Thatcher’s abuse. Its a reminder that the light at the end of a tunnel, while it may be dim and grey, is still a light after-all, and the only way out is through.

Low End Activist on an industrial dancehall tip featuring Vybz Kartel approved vocalist Sikka Rymes including alternate updates from Low Jack and Loraine James.