New Look ‘The Ballad’
Somewhere between the beats on TLC’s ‘Creep’, there’s this watery wobble, like a faltering in the matrix. You can’t see or hear it but you know it’s there, offering you a clue that cross-fades into a daydream. But if you listened again and again and again, you’d eventually catch a glimpse of a hint that a far-off utopia exists.
You’ll find it on ‘Creep’ and you’ll find it here, just between one of the beats in the willowy cracks between the high-hat and the floor-tom, just as you feel the dust rise and fall - and everyone knows that the future is either going to be hyper-clean or scratched, crumbling and dusty. The haze around these beats were like sprites that would take a few decades to grow into The Ballad’s little beasts. But grow and grow they did, biding their time, getting nourishment from gnawing on the seams of timelessness and nibbling at the next zeitgeist until the time was ripe.
2011 will not be the year of noir-pop, that year will be next year (probably). For now, sparkling in the gutters and skittering around the back rooms are duos and trios and loners with laptops, with their ears to the ground, squeezing the air and feeling for the future’s pulse. New Look are just one of the many children of TLC, who’ve gorged on Burial, gotten high on Dilla, declared many of Prince’s b-sides better than his a-sides, been disappointed by the xx live, dipped their toe in The Blow’s sweet-bowl and woken up with the The Knife still stuck on repeat.
Call it post-rnb or sling around terms like ”future-pop” (as they call themselves) or erroneously file it as dubstep (blubstep?) or whatever but don’t say I didn’t warn you. - Sean