The Vessel, chapter two. We left off with the conclusion of Faith's tragic story, a revolutionary soul at the heart of the dystopian capital of the universe created by Kinoteki; now we resume our wandering through the techno-capitalist universe conceived by the New York producer with fresh eyes, a perspective that expands, and at times subverts, that vision. Guiding us through the city this time is Julie, the daughter of two members of the ruling elite with whom she has anything but an ideal relationship, forever searching for a love denied to her, finding herself, against her will, caught up in a war that began with the neighbouring United States. What future awaits us? Impossible to say, but one thing is certain: on "The Visitor", his most expansive project yet, this maker of genuine electronic journeys achieves his most accomplished work, a gripping journey through the folds of a style that successfully reintroduces the house roots of his early days, combining them with the vast footwork, jungle and bass vocabulary that has dominated in recent years. In the fog of night, however, a brand new mystery looms.
It's true that elements typical of the great Dubstep season have always surfaced here and there in the producer's career, but across the eighteen tracks of "The Visitor" they become essential, building frameworks and tracing connections that recall the approach taken by Hyperdub at the very start of its journey. There's no rainy touch of Burial, no minimalist character of peak-form Kode9, but there is the same urban attitude, the metropolitan character of a music that spreads through avenues and buildings, becoming one with concrete and glass, turning them into the stage for a frenzied emotional search. Beyond the cacophony of the streets, beyond the surrounding noise, Kinoteki's art crystallizes the soul of a city that is both theatre and prison, the platform for an action that can be sweet and melancholy at once (the soulful, energy-filled breaks of the pairing "Make Me Understand"-"Felthurt AM"), or possessed by an unmanageable rage (the screamo-tinged vocal phrasing that tears through "Path Angel/Eternal Sacrifice").
In between, the dynamism of the story surges powerfully, the stark chiaroscuro of a narrative that is as physical as it is mental, able to carry breathless sprints (as in the frenetic future-funk of "Close Yr Mind") as much as to probe the deepest thoughts, the never-expressed longings (the polished melodicism à-la Ross From Friends picked up in the expansive spaces of "In My Mind").
The producer plays with narrative planes with great ease, casting new light on the sound of "Dawn Of The Final Hour" by injecting it with well-judged ambient rarefactions (the tender regret of "In Yr Head") and steering away from obvious outcomes, letting the story run its course all the way to its inexorable requiem.
Of course, much of Kinoteki's personal experience filters into the fabric of the project, by his own admission, but even without knowing that, what emerges is the excellent management of pacing and turns, the variety of registers that charge this journey with further layers of meaning. From the juke interlocking of "160 Proof" to the bouncing trance of the lengthy "Stray Dog", the New Yorker delivers some of the most unforgettable moments of his career, pushing to its furthest consequences the path of expansion he set out on years ago. Nothing could be better suited to the producer's most solid album yet, the fullest expression of one of the most versatile minds in contemporary electronic music.
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30/01/2025
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Vassilios Karagiannis, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.