Bicep - Isles

January 22, 2021 - Ninja Tune

It’s now 2021, and Bicep’s second album Isles has finally dropped on Ninja Tune after three years of EPs and whispers. Irish producer and blogger duo Matt McBriar and Andy Ferguson have gifted us a cohesive collection of dance tracks engineered to heighten our synesthesia, using beats that are meticulously broken and expertly placed, and playing with a new hierarchy—one where chopped up vocals, vocal synths, and vocal samples are prominent. The human voice on Isles is used in a variety of ways to reference the spiritual in art, ranging from Bollywood samples to polyphonic monastic chants to vintage R&B love ballads to what my 90s childhood Casio keyboard was programmed to think human beings sound like. 

Like an optimistic art-cinematic trance vision of a global cultural perspective à la Ron Fricke and Mark Magidson’s Samsara, or a cyclopedic intellectual recording of human activity on Earth that the modern Western society highly values in its present guilt from the past, Isles really does feel like an in-depth exploration of observed patterns in music-making across cultural divides that only the exposure of travel or living in an international metropolitan hub can truly provide. I know to some it will seem especially odd for me to say I find this in the dance music genre and outside of the world music genre, but here we are. It’s 2021 baby, and the electronic music scene is privileged in a very specific way—highly educated, increasingly culturally fluent, and so starved for capital that it subverts what big-box music stores find easy to organize toward utopian ends that can’t exist elsewhere. 

The ideas realized on Isles have a clear paper trail in the slow burn of Bicep’s discography. Interest in the power of the ethereal voice, epic keys that luxuriate mostly in the existential determination of minor harmony but resolve at pivotal emotional moments to major, and heightened Eastern influence were born from the single ‘Rain’ on their 2017 self-titled first album and meticulously grown over the past three years into what feels like an entire planet. Like a harbinger of an exploration to come, in hindsight ‘Rain’ and the Rain EP were whispers of the future back in the past. 

The album begins with ‘Atlas’ which was released almost a year ago as a single. It sets the stage sailing across a dreamy synthy desert with the long soaring tones of a vocal sample far away. Right away, we’re wandering on a journey through a synthetic wilderness that feels more real to our romantic imaginations than the real wilderness. Like the grinch our hearts grow suddenly inside of our chests into hero hearts in the ancient Joseph Campbell way. We become filled to the brim with predestination. We have no choice in the matter (except, I guess, to turn the music off). So we take up the cross, carry the weight of our armor, and fend off the thirst with scorpions. 

‘Cazenove’ follows up with cool watery relief. Hollow wooden melodies converse with a synthesized human voice, innocent as though a marimba is teaching a youthful AI how to sing for the first time. A transitional track, the beats are swishy, a little dirty, like they are patterns you hear in mechanical sounds that aren’t actually there except in your mind’s ear. It’s a little cheesy like vintage sci-fi, but not so cheesy as to ruin the mood. Swords remain heavy. 

‘Apricots’ starts off fuzzy, with sandy beats and a dynamic but muffled melodic undercurrent, giving the effect of a sound that’s not completely solid, something that gives to the touch. The sounds gently sway from left to right ear and back again, elliptical. The main vocal sample is thrown in early, cut up beyond linguistic recognition, in monotone, percussive, objectified. A distant sampled shout responds to it, and eventually all three elements build to become their own solar system, spinning like planets in orbit or a halo around our heads. 

Bicep lets Clara La San hold the center stage on ‘Saku,’ which is an abnormal move for them, since most of the vocals they use in their work are distorted and part of the instrumental fabric rather than the paint on top of the canvas. La San comes in like a fatalistic ’90s R&B love ballad, questioning with an angelic and airy voice that reminds me a little bit of Lykke Li. ‘Saku’ is a moment of equality between producers and vocalist, collaborative effort without one overpowering the other, and it’s the only track of its kind on the album. 

‘Lido’ is another chilling interlude, a cacophony of pebbly synths like water in a stream playing over the chimes as the rocks at the bottom while a chant in the distance creates the effect of an Earth cathedral, where the trees arch above and the ground becomes the altar. The transitional tracks on Isles are water over the scorching heat, moments of rest and reflection in the pool before resuming forward momentum into an unknown future. 

‘X’ which again features Clara La San at first takes a light-hearted turn by introducing a springy foundational beat. A hip-hop melody fades into view and begins bouncing up and down on an old mattress. Eventually, La San’s voice comes in, echoing a mantra over and over again, at times close and at times far away. Bicep has obfuscated her voice a bit more here than on ‘Saku,’ and she becomes part of the atmosphere as we continue to jump and spin in the air, escaping for a moment from the physical being in a sheer act of childlike expression. 

The main percussive elements in ‘Rever’ come off like field-recordings of metal clanging and a jump rope being swung between two people. The track has a cavernous atmosphere that is perpetuated when the vocal samples come in, an exercise in engineered polyphonics, a synthetic chorus in the darkness. Whiny synths are brought in as a dissonant descant, creating tension by being a little bit off, like a squeaky car wheel. We are moving again with determination, conquerors with the conscious decision to drop the conquering. All that’s left is consumption through observation and regurgitation. 

‘Sundial’ has drums like a war march and is motivated to continue forward by a Bollywood vocal sample. The energy Bicep builds extends beyond the track’s timestamp. It’s an entire mood, an immersive fantasy, a reminder of where we started with ‘Atlas,’ a trail marker indicating the beginning of the final build to the ending of the Isles album. 

‘Fir’ calms the heat of ‘Sundial’ down with some pleasant liquid textures like water drops, spaceship effects, and powerful buildups that leave us swimming in the sand dunes like mystifying extraterrestrial monsters. ‘Hawk’ closes the album out with a vocal sample that feels finite and meditative, the phonics of the long vowel “e” repeat like skipping record, a spoken fragment over one final resolution, a major key and a satisfyingly rubbery synth. 

Overall, Isles demonstrates the cultural exposure Bicep has faced the past few years being on the road and living in London while still being a great dance album. It also demonstrates their ability to investigate their previous influences further, their ability to take a deep dive and perform an introspective studio exploration. These songs were brewing three years ago, but they became realized here with fresh ears and fresh collaborations through experience and time. And I can forgive Bicep for taking their time with that. After all, I’m just one listener. They are the ones making the art. ☔