What makes for good dance music? Is it fair to judge it on the metrics of pop and rock, looking for originality and craft and insight and vision, or is it simply enough to be, basically, a banger? Kowton gives away his stance with the title of his debut album Utility – an open declaration of intent, a valuing of function over form. The London based producer has spent the past half-decade releasing fringe-reaching club music on acclaimed labels such as Hessle Audio, Keysound Recordings and Livity Sound, all three of which act as brand guarantees of both innovation and effectiveness. Or, to put it another way: UK dance music has been particularly thrilling in its cutting-edge production in recent years, and Kowton stands at the front of the charge of adventurous producers. Drawing on techno’s brutal textures and dubstep’s punishing bass, Utility is a snapshot of modern club sounds designed for dancing feet from a cerebral headspace.
The idea of dubstep today is an almost useless descriptor – it covers everything from protracted EDM bro-step bass wobbles to laptop-friendly breakdowns in pop songs to rhythmically-dense garage-house. In Kowton’s hands, dubstep seems the best way to understand both the idea of bass, and the idea of blank space, in Utility’s production. The kick drums are hollow yet gritty, while the basslines are resonant and deep. There’s moody pads, cloudy and grey to add texture and direction, and while there’s moments of simple melodies and riffs, Utility is mostly a restrained, spacious collection of DJ-friendly tracks.
In the context of an album, Utility feels a little sparse to ever really succeed beyond its practicality. But it’s easy to imagine the tuned percussion of ‘Some Cats’ accelerating the energy of a set in the hands of a skilled DJ, or ‘Loops 1’ being a peak-time club anchor. The highlight ‘Bubbling Under’ is equal parts Richie Hawtin and Shackleton, a sweat-soaked gallop of ringing steel tones and shapeshifting drums. Utility works a series of effective DJ-tools. But at the same time, there’s a sense that it’s lacking the alchemy needed to elevate these tracks beyond precision-made club weapons.
Utility feels more engaging when it’s compromising its dancefloor potential for the album format: ‘Scido’ has an undulating bassline, a minimal funk that recalls Ricardo Villalobos at his peak, while ‘A Bluish Shadow’ marries a melancholy music-box melody to austere percussion and floating gasps of white noise. But Utility makes only the slightest concessions to listeners outside of its functional setting.
Its formalist features are both its strongest asset and biggest weakness. Approach Utility as a snapshot of underground UK dance music and it’s a thrilling document that sits perfectly alongside last year’s self-titled album from Pearson Sound as an example of how club cuts can be inventive, challenging, and still be destructive monsters of bass weight and irresistible grooves. Just don’t approach it looking for anything more.
