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12 November 2012
SOMETHING TO HOOT ABOUT: 36
AZEALIA BANKS - "ATLANTIS"
The relentless and dedicated work ethic of the Harlem lyricist and all-out urban legend is nothing short of a miracle, especially so when you think that at only 20 years old Azealia Banks has netted a following so large that her club sizzler "212" is dropped in most clubs if any respectable DJ know's what's good for them. Her 19 track mixtape "Fantasea" has been conveying track after track of slick urban ditties; forward thinking and intrepid, Banks' concoction of frenetic pop, draconian beats and smooth nineties grooves has a vast reaching appeal. "Atlantis" doesn't stray away from this winning formula either, her scatter-gun lyrics are provocative and delivered with serpentine precision into a humdrum mix of eclectic musical inputs that charges synapses to bop and dance to her fiery slabs of chameleon pop. New York's finest keeps this assemblage short 'n' sweet lasting just over 120 seconds but those two minutes prove evermore that Azealia has a dynamic vision for music and she most definitely seems to possess the skills to accomplish it.
When you hear Splashh for the first time there is an overwhelming belief that this band must surely hail from some hazy California coastal town, spilling beer and stumbling around amongst the surf making floozy salt-tinged music. However, that image couldn't be more inaccurate if it tried. Toto, Sasha, Thomas and Jacob are four razorsharp Hackney lads whose escapist channels of sweltering grunge-rock are soaked in indie scuzz and sauntered guitar pangs. There sound is a maniacal assortment of acts like Gross Magic, Childhood and The Vaccines, so standing out is rather important indeed. Fear not, Splashh are musically savvy and audibly forthright. "Vacation" begins as a mellow affair at first, gradually building energy to the song with each additional music element until eventually it storms along; a crushing onslaught of drums and guitars delivered with absolute speed where strumming digits and thrashing sticks meet manmade instruments, bounding down those soundwaves with wilderbeest tenacity. Hollowed vocal drones and the promise of sunkissed vacations are chanted boisterously via a resounding chorus into your ear canals without remorse. This sepia barrage of echoes and indie toxins showcases Splashh at their very best and musically complete.