despite quickly becoming a close planet e associate in the last year or so, still leeds based paul woolford has also flirted with ‘bass music’ ever more openly.
teshno
'in germany, they can't say 'techno,' they say 'teshno'' ~ seth troxler [march 2008]
special request ~ lolita / alone on special request
paul woolford ~ achilles/razor burn on planet e
never one to tirelessly tread the same sonic waters, paul woolford’s sound has recently been shifting towards the bassier end of town. in fact, you’d be excused thinking his courting of the style may well turn into a full on romance with this release on planet e, but it doesn’t: rather it seems there’s one more – loosely defined – techno record in him, even if listening to the brilliance of his red-hot t williams remix suggests it may (should? probably a bit strong) be his last.
achillies, as you ought to expect, is composed of sounds you don’t just get from randomly selecting a plug-in and whacking a few buttons in ableton. the personality of each machine used has a bearing on the track’s overall charm… from the mike monday like cartoon acid belches to the menacing 303 melodies via the pulsing, monolithic kicks, there’s an economical efficiency to every sound. they melt and flex around each other (as if of their own volition, rather than being rigidly sequenced by some overheating computer) to create an occult atmos’ that doesn’t so much move forward as loiter menacingly for seven deep and mysterious minutes. it’s a mood track, basically, but one that keeps you delightfully on edge.
‘razor burn,’ on the other hand, is about marching rhythms, where punchy kicks and stripped bare beats pad out an earthy thud before filtered synth lines open and close to add breadth to the track’s inherent depth. the jewel in its crown, though, is the so-furiously-oscillating-it’s-fury-fuzzy-and-k-hole-like synth line (is it?) that assumes centre-sage at the midway point and again toward the end. it’s such a marvellously designed sound that it feels you could almost reach out and grab it. but you can’t, obviously, and instead you have to let it pan through your brain where it fires up synapses and sensations you never knew existed, before unceremoniously dumping you back in the woody bed of beats from which it came… simply great shit that’s, typically for wooly, incredibly hard to date, define or dislike.