Letter #159

Liminal moments and new dimensions...

Hello, hi how r u?

It's been a while, and I've missed writing to you. How are you? I love it when people reply - it’s most certainly not a rhetorical question!

So, where’ve I been? Well, I am a human who turns up to the buffet of life with an extra size plate, a hunger, and a thirst. Sometimes my eyes are bigger than my belly. Last month was one such occasion. Sorry, normal service is now resumed. 

Since we last spoke I've been reading (a lot), running (even more), and I have - as the wonderful Cosmic Bob would say - thrown myself well and truly down the rabbit-hole of a new area of music I've always been pretty green on. 

It’s a long one (but not essay long), so get yourself a coffee.

—

Every few years the stars align, and I'm struck by something musically, artistically, and culturally profound. True to form, it usually involves a book, a dancefloor, and a song. 

A decade ago, it was Tim Lawrence's Love Saves The Day, a dancefloor in Barcelona, and Candido's Jingo. 

My new found obsession with disco took me through soul, funk, early house music, taught me to reassess the 80s, and put me firmly back in love with house music. It took me to civil rights, to Detroit, to Nigeria, to politics, to identity, and taught me the spiritual links between the dancefloor, moments of transcendence, and finding belonging. It gave me this letter and community, it helped me find you. It was a true gift.

Then seven years ago, it was Val Wilmer's As Serious As Your Life, a party in Hackney Wick, and Moses Boyd's Drum Dance. 

Alexi in Sounds Of The Universe saw me listening to some early 22a releases and schooled me (and also happened to slap a copy of Tom Armstrong's The Move Mag into my hands too, kick-starting an incredible friendship, and sowing the seeds for Common People). The burgeoning UK jazz scene swallowed me whole, and from there I went back to the early days, then to free jazz, to jazz funk, to hip-hop, to beats, to Ra, to Cherry, to (Alice) Coltrane, to Pharaoh. It taught me about afro-futurism, even more about civil rights and equality, and it taught me that music was a powerful healing force not just for the individual, but for communities, for culture, and for the world. 

A lot of the last decade of my life has been built on the foundations that disco and jazz laid - both have been skeleton keys to help me understand the world, find my place, and find my people. 

Then there was nothing for a few years. Well, that's a lie, there was lots of incredible stuff, of course, but nothing like the paradigmatic shift that those two moments had bought me. 

Until last summer.

At the time, I was reading Fisher, Gilbert, Wark, Goodman, watching and reading everything to do with Kodwu Eshun possible, books on techno, books on afro-futurism, books on jungle; I was reading more than ever, and reading with a hunger that belied someone trying to find the answer to a question I still didn't (and still don't) really understand. To a degree, that’s still happening.

Then, there were two ‘dancefloor’ moments that changed everything.

Neither were those 'transcedent moments of ecstacy', and writing the words now both moments actually read as pretty trivial affairs, but I knew then that something was starting to change inside of me. Both were at We Out Here. The first happened watching Tim Reaper play in the woods - a set that, honestly, I wasn't that bothered about seeing. Yet when I got there, it hit different. It hit me hard. I stood genuinely slack-jawed for the first thirty minutes while everyone else got down. Then Reaper played Give Me More (the Sully remix), and it felt like my genetic make up had been altered on the spot - it felt so different, so pure, that I genuinely started shaking with excitement.

Later than night I was walking back to the tent on my own, feeling exhausted but happy, and having left my friends dancing at the Touching Bass takeover. I was shattered and ready for sleep, but when I got back to the tent I still had that glow from Reaper's set. So I sat outside the tent, and just basked in it for a few minutes. I could still hear the rumble from the woods, but the wind muffled the sound. Then, just as I got up to unzip the tent, the wind dropped, and the opening bars of Hagan's Yenko floated over the fields... I'd been listening to odd bits of Amapiano for the last year or so, but within the context it felt different. That insistent, pulsing log drum bass... Ahhh it's giving me goosebumps just thinking about it! 

So, there's been a new dimension added to my map of life, one informed by jungle, footwork, juke, rave, amapiano, gqom, and funky. It's linking back to where a lot of my musical journey began twenty years ago, with techno and bass, and sending me in all sorts of new directions. I’m so excited I’ve even been teaching myself to DJ with digital in order to play the music (a lot of it is digital only).

I’ve no idea where it’ll lead, but I'm excited for the journey - if it's anything like the last two moments, it's going to pivotal and exciting, and I'm so pleased we get to share it together.

And this brings me to the next thing that's been playing on my mind a lot; liminal moments and creative energy. 

A few weeks ago I was running along the seafront and listening to a podcast. It was an interview with Matt Colquhoun, who’s work I love, but often when I read his books I think I probably understand half of it (at best). He writes about society, politics, and how culture plays a fundamental role in helping us understanding the past to help us build a better future. 

The interviewee asked him about punk, and his response was that he thought post-punk was a much more interesting and impactful cultural moment. He referenced Simon Reynolds' phrase (and Orange Juice’s song and lyric, of course) 'rip it up and start again', and said that the meaning behind that phrase was an intentional reference to post-punk. Punk had the spirit to rip it all up, but not the energy and optimism to start again. 

I'd never thought about the phrase to that depth before, but it felt like the nihilism of punk was always focused on destruction. He said that anyone can destroy things, but it takes a certain type of creative person to find something worth destroying and then strive to create something better in it's place. 

I thought it was a fascinating point about creativity and optimism.

To ‘rip it up and start again’ is an act of creative optimism; to be unhappy with what exists, and then tear it down and start again. 

That phrase has been floating around my head for weeks, and I still can't shake it. 

Then a few days later, I started a workshop by talking about liminal moments. This is the moment when something - or someone, as it's usually in reference to a person's life - goes from one state to another. Kind of like a moment of transition. 

I talked about how we all experience these moments, but often we don't realise that we've been through them until after the moment life moves from one state to another. But that they're really influential in how we live our lives - they are moments of true creativity, when we 'rip up' our last state, and 'start again'. 

Liminal moments give us a unique perspective as we step from one world / life / state to another. As we step between one and the other, glimmers of light and creativity shine through.

I think this is where the best ideas - and the best art - comes from. 

Art shows us new ways of looking at something - often something we didn't understand, or have never experienced. I think that the glimmers of light that we see as we step through each gateway are opportunities to tell stories that help us all understand the world in new ways. 

So, here's to liminal moments, and finding in art and music the energy to rip it up and start again. I’ve got my fire back.

As you’d expect, this week there’s lots of exciting new music, and I’m really keen to hear what you think!

See you on the dance floor,
Jed x

PS. If you're new here then this is how it works. Here’s what you’ve missed so far. 

PPS. Oh, and come join our lovely little community, you’ll love it ❤️

---

---

TL;DR Section 🌪

It’s JUST books this week…

• Things to read

  • Books

    • Just read…

      • The Water Dancer, Ta-Nehisi Coates (absolute must read)

      • Widow Basquiat, Jennifer Clement (fantastic)

      • The Creative Act, Rick Rubin (a sermon, in a good way)

      • Faith, Hope, and Carnage, Nick Cave and Sean O’Hagan (lots of rich insights and incredible thoughts)

      • Hunger, Knut Hamsun (beautiful, cruel, insistent)

      • State of Bass, Martin James (an excellent primer)

      • Rip It Up And Start Again, Simon Reynolds (a classic, and my gateway drug to so much thinking when I was 18)

      • Do Hard Things, Steve Magness (incredible book on the actual science of resilience and lots of great thinking outside of just running)

    • Next up…

      • Dance Your Way Home, Emma Warren (nearly finished, absolutely sublime)

      • The Body Keeps The Score, Bessel van der Kolk

      • Art Is Life, Jerry Saltz

      • The Crown Ain’t Worth Much, and A Fortune For Your Disaster, Hanif Abdurraqib

      • The Runner, Markus Torgeby

      • Capital Is Dead, Is This Something Worse?, McKenzie Wark

---

Old notes home 📚

…on the future

• Capitalism, classism, and revolutionary music that shows us the future

…on culture

• Rebuilding culture: fixing the asymmetry of art, culture, and commerce 

• Deconstructing jazz to understand culture

• 'Total freedom', art, and Afrofuturism

• How ideas take hold: culture, creativity and exposure

• How cultures evolve: the audiophile crew

• Cultural exposure: Most Advanced, Yet Acceptable

• Get out on the edges of culture - stop being a tourist 

• Cultural responsibility and being a good cultural guide

• Creators and gatekeepers 

• A response to the argument that culture is boring these days

• Why culture means a lot to me

…on music

• The holy trinity; story, groove, innovation

• The importance of reinvention

• A collection of great thoughts from Quincy Jones

• The problem with the ‘outsider’ narrative

• Jazz is pure protest music

• The power of rhythm, repetition, and contrast

• How I put the mixtape together (part one, part two)

…on mental health

• Finding belonging: imposter syndrome, adland, and culture

• Isolation: finding meaning in melancholy 

• Flow, burnout, and recovery: a personal story

• Feeling low, feeling blue

---

The tracklist 🎶

1. Tomaga - Intimate Immensity (Floating Points and Marta Salogni remix)

2. Nicola Cruz - Sanacion

3. RS Producoes - Valentine’s Day 2K17

4. James Asher - Atlantean Chant

5. Kawuku Sound - Lost In Sound

6. Barbatuques - Baiana (Wolf Mueller’s remix)

7. Peter Power - Dansakoni

8. Mytron & Ofofo - Si Jambo

9. RS Producoes - TABA

10. Simo Cell - Not All It’s Cracked Up To Be

11. Toulouse Low Tax - How To Beat The Sea

12. Emeka Ogboh - No Counterfeit

13. Nick Leon - Nerves

14. Objekt - Ballast

15. SMBD - Roubaix Cube

16. Facta - Mirage

17. Transllusion - Disrupted Neural Gateway

18. Radioactive Mam - Rubber Dub

19. Donato Dozzy - TB Square

20. Mundo Muzique - Acid Pandemonium

21. Chrissy - Rooftop Sunrise

22. Ravetrx - Tribe Sequence Calling

23. Rhyw - Stare Me Down

24. Al Wootton - Artefacts

25. Nick Leon - Sewer System

26. THUGWIDO & Bruised Skies - Historical Absolutism

27. 11th Hour - Confront

28. Puto Tito - AbuzaNtesS

29. Drumskull - Muscle Memory (Lone remix)

30. HOST - Survive (Om Unit remix)

31. Samurai Breaks & Nova Cheq - Victory Lap

32. 4am Kru & Sir Hiss - Earshots

33. Kamikaze Space Programme - Dust to Dust (Slave to Society remix)

34. Pugilist - Lithium (Dwarde & Tim Reaper remix)

35. DJ Girl - Groover

36. Lone - Visited By Astronauts (Sherelle Had A Groove remix)

37. Baraka - I’ll Be There

38. Prayer - Reflection

39. Lil Silva - Colours

40. Sarathy Korwar - KALAK A Means To An End

41. Carl Stone - Banteay Srey