Tag Archives: Kieran Hebden

The Jazz phase

Don’t ask questions, but I’m having a jazz moment.

As has been discussed elsewhere, I have a proclivity¬†towards getting emotional when watching films on planes. Perhaps it’s the difference in air-pressure, or the single-serving capsular nature of flying. Some years ago, on a flight out of Dubai, the triple-whammy of The Wrestler, Changeling, and Gran Torino left me overwhelmed, hollowed-out, a remnant of a shell of a human being. Continue reading The Jazz phase

Hebden’s pink patch

Loose-limbed percussion, creeping polyrhythms, cavernous bass. Kieran Hebden (Four Tet) has constructed an unexpectedly cohesive quasi-album from the string of isolated singles he’s released since 2010’s There Is Love In You. The lightly flanged guitars are back, with tasteful vengeance; new to the scene is the occasional foray into kosmische territories. These songs are long, but they don’t overestimate the listener’s attention span. New textures swirl in like migratory birds; on the closing track, there is even ersatz birdsong. Continue reading Hebden’s pink patch


I think this might be the most beautiful remix in the history of sound.

With thanks to Tamara Berber, who told me to listen out for the harmonic pings at around the 3:50 mark.