After appearances on Hot N Heavy and Sub Skank, and the woofer-warping collaboration with Pasteman, Camaro, on 877, Winchester's most renegade bass merchant, the 21-year-old prodigy Tanka, known to his mum as Francis Leigh (not the Bo Selectah dude - that's the other way round) returns on the ever reliable Chasing Unicorns with a double track EP of thick, sinuous house music. And yes, that's a long sentence, but the Effervesce EP is one that brooks no restraint.
The title track, "Strutt", is one cool beast wrapping choked stabs in laughter that floats across the soundstage; a warped and creepy foil to an chiming organ filtered almost to the point that you feel rather than hear it. Amid the legion of imitators rinsing Kerri Chandler's legacy, here Tanka proves that you can innovate on classic themes, if you're not a lazy fucker content merely to imitate. People need to start having their own goddamn ideas again, and if you don't have any, then get the hell out of music, and leave it to the people with some talent. Never be lazy, baby, just get deep with the strutting, soulful groove.
On the flip, Motion is an aqueous groover, in the vein of Steve Zissou as raised in the shadow of General Motors by Moodymann. Its supple low end loops out of the bass bins like an octopus' tentacle, entwining the audience, before hot, thick ink spurts all over them. Just imagine those urgent chants of "You know what I want" pouring erotically from a celaphopod's beaked mouth, to know what it's like to be audio fucked by an experimental, eight-legged bastard who won't take no for an answer. Octo-assault of the most intense flavour.
Tasked with the unenviable task of manipulating "Strutt" into new shapes is L.A's brightest new star Sage Caswell, who ups the jack with glassy hi hats that echo the shattering of stained glass windows (take that, tradition! That's right, it's a social metaphor. We went there. Nothing is sacred (O mah G - double metaphor!)). Subs as lithe as a limbo dancer wind their way below stabs more deadly than a knife fight in a Hackney underpass. It's Jersey house on Berghain's main floor, that eponymous strut given a heads down techno edge, making it a crowd killing fixture wherever it's dropped.