Kotchy - 89

is cool. People are only just starting to understand that now, but soulful pop is totally hip. Sure, his last record had Timbaland sprawled all over it, but ol’ JT should still be getting a fair bit of credit for his oeuvre; he has brought sexy back. It is not lame to sing in a kinda breathless, girly voice when you are a man. And I’m thinking Kotchy, or Chad Curlow, has clocked on.

‘89’ is hard to explain; on first listening to it, feelings of frustration take hold. Messy? Where’s the direction? Why is it not easy to find any mark of meticulous planning? Does he give a shit? With all the questions, the searching, it becomes clear: this record is a grower. Background noise is a good way to work it. Compiled of 16 tracks, a significant number of which last just over a minute, the album breezes by, rounding up to a total 40 minutes or so of varying sounds. Curious sounds. Different sounds?

Kotchy has been labelled as dubstep. But that’s not right. He’s also been put into the dance pen. But that’s not OK either. Sure, there are elements of both genres (less the dance, as it is quite slow and steady music): the continuous beats, keeping the rhythm and discipline in line. But the only real solid aspect of the record is Curlow’s voice. Affected, effected, he whines, moves slowly, softly over the music. It’s a pleasant voice; a voice that wouldn’t be out of place in Timbo’s social circle? But Timbo is not needed here, this is a one man job. Curlow does it all. Lone wolf.

‘89’ is too difficult to read. No matter how many times one listens to it, no matter how much it does, indeed, grow, there’s something about it that no finger can be put on. And this is perhaps why, whilst being pleasant in all its mysterious glory, it can’t help but irritate.