Mosaik

MONKEYTOWN010

25 February 2011

CD, 2xLP

About

It's not even a decade-spanning discography that makes Siriusmo's debut album seem so overdue. In a dance domain where 12-inch verbosity rules, the inimitable Berlin producer has always stood out by way of his penchant for the concise, for the song over the “track”, for quality over quantity – a musical personality that has forever craved the long-player. And with previous releases striding confidently through a rich array of genres – from dubstep to disco, hip-hop to house, electro to experimental – his work is invested with incomparable diversity, eschewing outright any danger of a four-four snooze-fest over the course of an hour. Indeed, in its premeditated hodgepodge of styles, composite sonic totality and rugged texture, Mosaik couldn't be more of a fitting rubric.

Betraying influences from the 70s to the present day and beyond, one foot keeps the door to the past ajar while the other kicks the door to the future wide open. The palpable funk and thumb-slap bass of opener, “High Together”, the pop-baroque of “Idiologie” and warped rap of “Bad Idea” all point towards Mo's grounding in the records of Stevie Wonder, The Beatles and plentiful helpings of hip-hop. Any hint of nostalgia, however, is dragged kicking and screaming into a 21st Century discotheque where the bass is twisted, the beats are laden and a space-age grandiosity envelopes the whole.

His timbre-palette is strikingly visceral; every note a corporal experience as well as an aural one. Take “Sirimande” for instance: the imposing, undulating synth-lead cuts to the core, raises your hair and summons your feet in an uncontrollable act of bass-submission. But then, just as you're at your most willingly vulnerable, Mo's cunning dexterity shines through. He makes an arresting switch from the beefy to the beautiful, from the body to the mind, as elegantly tapped organ keys play a melody of soulful poise. It's this type of canny counterpoint that provides the stitching throughout Mosaik's vibrant patchwork.

For every drop of dancefloor sweat, there's a soothing breeze to cool down. The frolicked electronics of the title track, balmy chords of “Einmal in der Woche Schreien” and searing P-Funk of “Good Idea” make Mosaik an album as well equipped to soundtrack a sunset strut as an early-morning club crack-on. It's a mood that is only enriched by a consummate understanding of, and appreciation for, the intricacies of harmony. Individual melody lines dance impishly around one another on “Signal”, for example, as sonic warmth is woven on a loom in your ears. (Let the CD run after “Red Knob” and you'll be in for a similar treat).

Siriusmo's ability needs no introduction; he's already undertaken remix requests from the likes of Gossip, Simian Mobile Disco and Digitalism after all. But now, after ten years of tantalising EPs crying out for development on a broader stage, we can finally enjoy this unique talent for the unadulterated, all-encompassing artistic vision that it is.

“Mosaik” features a good hour of music on vinyl including 4 exclusive bonus tracks. The CD comes with a shorter edit of “Feromonikon” and the 2 CD exclusive tracks “Sirimande” and “Feed My Meatmachine”. Only on CD you will find a true highlight of Siriusmo's first EP for Monkeytown Records in 2009: “Nights Off”. The CD version will also be available for download at all good download stores worldwide.

Listen

  • 1 High Together (Album Version)
    04:10
    Play
  • 2 Feromonikon (CD Edit)
    03:35
    Play
  • 3 Sirimande
    04:12
    Play
  • 4 Call Me
    00:51
    Play
  • 5 Mosaik
    03:09
    Play
  • 6 Bad Idea
    02:49
    Play
  • 7 Lass Den Vogel Frei!
    01:49
    Play
  • 8 123 (Album Version)
    02:48
    Play
  • 9 Idiologie
    02:48
    Play
  • 10 Einmal In Der Woche Schreien
    04:00
    Play
  • 11 Good Idea
    03:36
    Play
  • 12 Nights Off
    04:08
    Play
  • 13 Peeved
    01:13
    Play
  • 14 Feed My Meatmachine
    03:32
    Play
  • 15 Goldene Kugel
    05:00
    Play
  • 16 Signal
    05:36
    Play
  • 17 Red Knob
    03:50
    Play