tom feral released Rotten a day before Mango, which suggests an eccentric approach to ripening. The Denver producer has divided his latest material across consecutive releases, with the heavier club music occupying these nine tracks. I’m drawn to his willingness to put slightly ridiculous ideas to work inside a track built for dancing. A friend’s fidget toy and gritty guitars are among his materials, and the best results have enough impact to make those choices matter physically. The album has a couple of weaker stretches, although he saves a particularly dark surprise for the finish.
The unlikely materials are a large part of the attraction. Fidget Toy began with Shannon, also known as fluentlyforward, demonstrating the object against different surfaces in a voice note. feral heard the rhythmic possibilities in that little recording and put them to work inside tech house. I enjoy the thought of such a disposable message becoming something people can dance to. The track has the practical appeal of a good club tune alongside the oddness of its source, and the joke keeps its usefulness once the beat takes over. Elsewhere, the guitars in Tommy Rocker arrive with enough grit to hold their own against the bass and the aggressive electro production. Both songs suggest a producer happy to follow an idea beyond the point where a tidier person might have put it away. Tommy Rocker is the essential listen here, especially if you want the imagination and the impact in the same track.
Much of Rotten earns its keep through the sheer pleasure of a good hit of bass. Everybody is the one I’d want to hear through speakers capable of doing its low end justice, preferably with the neighbours already out for the evening. Its heavy trap rhythms are an excellent argument for treating volume as part of the experience. feral also understands how to make an entrance count: Flutterflies gets its electronic sounds moving quickly, stumbles through a broken rhythm, then properly detonates around the forty-second mark. The change is satisfyingly emphatic. I can enjoy an obvious drop when the approach has this much restless movement in it, and the album has plenty of that particular pleasure to offer.
Six minutes of no sleepy appeal to me in a more casual way. I’d rank several other tracks above it, yet I’m quite happy to leave it running in the background. feral can produce an immediate physical reaction and also hold a groove long enough for a listener to settle into it. The longer track has value within that range, even if my strongest attachments lie elsewhere. Its place on the album helps keep my response from becoming a simple competition to identify the biggest drop.
The launch supplies another appealing detail about the person making all this. feral celebrated both releases at Denver’s Catbird Hotel on October 10, making his DJ debut with a music-synchronised lighting show he had designed and programmed in TouchDesigner. Two albums and a custom light show is an endearingly excessive way to get started. I’m sympathetic to somebody who gets this involved in presenting their own music, down to programming what happens around it. The practical work behind the event belongs alongside the curiosity in the production: he is willing to spend time making an idea function. I’d be interested in hearing how he brings these tracks together in a set, particularly with such different rhythms and levels of intensity available to him.
The heavier dubstep becomes less exciting in Blame it on my DAMN and Camel Cowboy. The latter has an appealingly odd sitar riff, chopped and reworked against distorted synths, though I get more pleasure from that particular idea than from the whole track. In this stretch, the weight of the production becomes more predictable than the stranger elements within it.
The album loses a little of the playful agility that makes its highlights so enjoyable. These are the tracks where my attention starts wandering, and the cleverness of an ingredient earns only so much goodwill. feral has already shown how effectively an unusual sound can become part of a track’s appeal, so the comparison is fairly demanding.
Voices brings my attention straight back with a darker, cyberpunk character and the force the finale needs. After the dip, I’m pleased to hear the record finish with something this emphatic and grim. The darker mood suits the weight that feral has been throwing around, and the last track has a stronger identity than another exercise in heavy dubstep would have. His range becomes useful here: the same producer who found a dance track in a friend’s toy recording can arrive at something considerably more menacing.
I leave wanting to hear more of that darker character, especially with this much force behind it. Rotten has a few tracks I’d happily leave on and several I’d turn up, which is a good outcome for an album with such a clear interest in physical pleasure.
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