Rainer - Hope / Satin / Glass / Dreams

The titles on London duo Rainer’s debut EP read like a list of things you’d find in one of Barack Obama’s plushest New York apartments. Two solid, concrete words with different connotations (‘Satin’, ‘Glass’); and an abstract, positive other half (‘Hope’, ‘Dreams’). As it plays out, it soon becomes clear that Rainer are expressing two sides to their sharply defined personality. On the one half, you’ve producer Casually Here’s glitchy production, exploring new territory like he’s presuming his gas will never run low. On the other, there’s Rebekeh Raa, the human connection. Somehow holding her own against whichever dramatic structure-shift comes her way, she pieces together the madness; prevents it from being a muddled mess.

There are choruses, other redeemable ideas to latch onto with ‘Hope / Satin / Glass / Dreams’. Initially it comes off like a showy piece too eager to please. But out come the melodies, the strands of life that bring a juggernaut of a first release into safe hands.

As much as it glitches, slows down or sends all remnants of normality aside, Rainer keep a firm grip on their bullish ideas. Raa’s vocals turn a nightmarish club scene into a dramatic wonder during ‘Satin’, while ‘Hope’ is the most unconventional ballad you’re likely to come across all year. Together it amounts to an extraordinarily disparate first work, one that’ll put off as many casual listeners as it’ll win over loyal immersive-types. It takes some guts to make something this intense - the EP spends half its time looking over the edge of a cliff, facing complete obscurity. In the end it wins out, making for a stunning debut.