Rattle - Sequence

The Quietus

Rattle revere the piquant trance of repetition and groove. The Nottingham duo deal in the ripple effect of the beat, allowing pulsing rhythms to emanate as if of their own will. With Sequence they continue to explore what drums can do – not focusing on technical dexterity or speed so much as the organic tempering, swelling and expulsion of cadence. The four tracks here are determined exercises in unhurried purification. (Each of them apparently “represents” a different drum: snare; floor tom; rack tom; bass drum.) Katharine Eira Brown and Theresa Wrigley face each other as their pared-down kits push arcane rhythms out and pull eddying intonations in. The effect is startlingly euphoric.

Opening track ‘DJ’ places us firmly in the centre of this maelstrom: six minutes of insistent beats, shimmering cymbals and Brown’s echoed coos. Then the spidery rim shots phase out as the choral chords overlap, and the drums coalesce into a calamitous vortex of controlled fury in the final minutes. The way this duo seem to trip and cascade yet still perfectly augment one another is the band’s great strength.

‘Disco’ has a more solid vocals and lyrics, with Brown’s chirping rounded-vowel ululations evocative and soothing. The song makes you move, but in a tranced shuffle and sway; the harmonious cymbal outro comes across like a cacophonous release. ‘Signal’ takes a more sedate groove, with a darkness seeping up through the spaces. ‘The Rocks’ takes us out with hesitant, burbling drums and hi-hat tinkering as Brown repeats “more fool you” over and over, the staccato beats slowly building to a percussive heave, Wrigley’s restlessness taking breathless precedence over Brown’s subtle, hiccupping bass-drum patter.

Nothing feels hashed out in haste or haze; every beat, clatter and hiss is perfectly orchestrated. The recordings sound cavernous – this album envelops you, and everything is in its right place. The beauty of Sequence is how deftly Rattle guide you into a narrow slipstream that somehow ripples out into an infinity.

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Sequence, the second album from Nottingham duo Rattle, gives no heed to any of that but is ever-more elemental in their exploration of what can be made from the combination of percussion and voice. It’s an exploration which rewards richly.

Written facing each other over their respective kits, and recorded trying to capture the live sound to tape, each song is built around a different drum in Katharine Eira Brown’s set up. Across just four tracks Rattle build worlds, and destroy them, to rebuild again, in an album of constant movement that is more contemplative than reactive.

Opener ‘DJ’ is built around snare and shimmering cymbals - one of the elements Theresa Wrigley handles. It’s ominous, lurching forward before retreating and seemingly encircling the listener. As the track builds, percussive pace dropping into deep beats, it triggers that patience within and you realise you must give yourself and your time to this album before it will give its best bits up to you. It reflects your acceptance with gentle waves of wordless vocal, before bringing those building beats back and giving way to ‘Disco’.

An awkward and jagged beast at the start where voice is more immediate and prominent, drawing organic melody above almost mechanical rhythms. This is not a track with an easy feel, the voice may soar and soften but at times the drums - the focus now on the floor tom - sound resistant to the shapes they are being bent into.

The rack tom brings a warmer, rounded, tone to ‘Signal’ and the beat becomes more regular as the first true lyrics of the album are intoned. ”Put your ear to the ground, it’s an incredible sound” repeats, and repeats again, strengthening the sense of these tracks being drawn up into the light, of them having gestated in the dark earth before being conjured forth. Layered on, words over words, tone over tone, as the track pushes forward the vocal becomes more about instrumentation than verbal communication, the beat and percussion a push-pull of sound.

Final track ‘The Rocks’ calmly, almost dismissively, repeats ”More fool you” as the beat freeforms around the words, the bass drum felt as much as heard beyond the percussion. Layers are added, the pace picks up, the vocal wavers as the words are drawn out. And then suddenly, it is over. The beat stops on record although it goes on in your head, an external influence on your internal rhythms.

Overall a transitional album, each track a step on a journey as rewarding as the destination still to come. The build within each piece pushes forward the whole to show that far from being a limitation this drum and vocal combo are opening up new musical vistas rather than locking the listener into narrow focus.

If there were doubters after their debut that Rattle’s sparse set-up could continue to deliver without becoming monotonous Sequence should silence them. For the focused approach gives space not constraint to the music being made. It is not monotony but repetition, not sing-a-long surface but deeply-felt rhythms, shunning songwriting convention for more fertile ground.