Available on: Boomkat Editions EP
The press release that accompanies The Perennials describes this EP as being “as close as we’ve seen [Motion Sickness Of Time Travel] get to the dancefloor.” We can only imagine that producer Rachel Evans is wise to this game now: just as, upon her emergence in 2009, the woozy surface of her compositions led to hasty comparisons with the hypnagogic set, now we all sit close to the speakers, ears straining, listening furiously for the slightest hint of a kickdrum. I’ll save you the bother: there isn’t one. In fact The Perennials, in line with Evan’s past work, features no percussion at all (save for the buried suggestion of an offbeat hi-hat in ‘The Reynard And The Vixen’), no discernible nod to techno or canny subversion of dancefloor dynamics.
But Evans’ failure to kowtow to the dominant noise-into-dance narrative doesn’t automatically imply a lack of progression. Last year’s eponymous LP on Spectrum Spools felt like a peak for the MSOTT project, and for the rash of DIY synth music that has flooded the ether in recent years. Its four side-length tracks displayed a newfound expressive range and a control of scale and density far beyond that required by your average C45 outing. The differences between that record and The Perennials – the next MSOTT release to break out of the cassette/mini-CDr underground – are stark.
This is a svelte record, and a comparatively forthright one. At points things feel rushed, as if Evans was hobbled by unreasonable time constraints – as in opener ‘Efflorescence’, whose throbbing synth sequence and attendant columnar drones could easily have been stretched out to three times the length. Not only that, but for the most part Evans’ unintelligible vocals – long her calling card, though less so of late – are absent, only taking centre stage in the almost-pop ‘The Reynard And The Vixen’. Replacing those homespun chorales is clean, precise synth-work, making clear Evans’ debt to the crystalline cosmic vistas of Cluster et al but sacrificing some of her singular appeal in the process.
Put simply, this record largely lacks the smoky, dreamlike aura in which MSOTT’s affective power has previously lain. There are pleasant enough moments – ‘Foggy Morning’ with its bright hazy drones, the trilling Oneohtrix-esque lead lines of ‘The Chord In The Centre’ – but they are more modest in ambition and far less emotionally resonant than much of Evans’ output. The Perennials feels exploratory, a tentative outing in a new mode: one that’s more pastoral than it is oceanic. We know Evans can be bolder.
