Album Review: Bicep - Isles

On their critically acclaimed debut, electronic producer duo Bicep developed their brand of painfully nostalgic dance music, conjuring memories of the 90s raves you never went to. Four years later, Isles sees Bicep’s sound return with new significance. At a time when most of us are stuck indoors sadly remembering the nights out we actually did experience, Bicep offer a collection of meditative tracks perfect for headphone listening. While definitely danceable, many of Isles’ melancholic soundscapes seem intended for reveries on cold lockdown walks.

While definitely danceable, many of Isles’ melancholic soundscapes seem intended for reveries on cold lockdown walks

Comprised of Irish-born Andrew Ferguson and Matthew McBriar, Bicep first garnered attention for their eclectic ‘Feel My Bicep’ music blog which collated old house and techno oddities. Since starting to release music themselves their sound has continued to be a cohesively ghostly regurgitation of their influences. On Isles, elements of techno, trance, breakbeat, garage, Irish folk music and drum and bass are all referenced, as ethereal vocals and synthesisers drift over shuffling off-kilter grooves.

The frantic synth lead stutters over warm pads to create an epic sense of unhinged euphoria

The album opener ‘Atlas,’ released as a single, is a standout track. The frantic synth lead stutters over warm pads to create an epic sense of unhinged euphoria. Similarly, ‘Cazenove’ and ‘Apricots’ contain intricately rhythmic leads that lock the listener into their hypnotic grooves. The former’s feathery ostinato creates a sense of dreamy weightlessness while the latter chops up a Malawian field recording from the 1950s to create the album’s most immediately catchy hook. As to be expected of veteran crate diggers, Bicep’s use of samples on Isles is excellent throughout. Another particularly great example is ‘Sundial’ where a vocal snippet from a Bollywood song is used to give the track its haunting sense of beauty. Ever eager to pay their respects to the histories of the music they borrow from, Bicep have listed all their samples on a website together with an explanation of what the music means for them.

The momentum continues with ‘Saku’ which is a uniquely vocal-led track. While at first unassuming, it’s not long before Clara la San’s icily sweet, if cruelly relevant, vocals bury their way inside; ‘I just need to feel / what I felt before.’ This sense of longing pervades the entire album. Each track is cloaked with a thick layer of reverb creating a cavernous sense of space. Just in case you are not feeling quite melancholic enough by the midway point, the ambient ‘Lido’ arrives to settle the matter. The drums drop out altogether as a rough-edged piano sound repeats insistently over a bed of synthesisers.

The percussion is often too tasteful for its own good, leaving some tracks feeling insubstantial in moments

After this point in the album the tracks get more moody. There are fewer distinct hooks and the low end gets busier. Occasionally a track will rely too much on the melancholy induced by its sample and end up lacking further development. ‘Fir’ is one such example where the drama of the synth progression cannot quite carry the track to its end. The percussion is often too tasteful for its own good, leaving some tracks feeling insubstantial in moments where the washed-out trance pads take centre stage. While a live setting might have allowed for such moments of sparseness, collective euphoria filling in the blanks, home listening requires a greater sense of presence in order for the listener not to become too attuned to the wispiness of the synths over time. The tracks that work best are those where the instrumentation is more tactile and textured. For example, ‘X’’s drum pattern contains a percussive bass twang that gives the track heft and provides a welcome change of texture from the more synth focused tracks. It also introduces a necessary hint of discordance that prevents the album from becoming overly blissful. Ferguson and McBriar have acknowledged this challenge of balancing lightness and darkness in their music and, while it is a balance constantly threatened by the duo’s electronic melancholia, for the most part they succeed expertly.

Overall, although there are moments when the enveloping synths might lose their hold on you, Bicep have succeeded in making an album great for both solemn introspection and lockdown boogying. Repeat listens to Isles will unlock intricate details painstakingly etched into the mix making each listen more trancelike than the last. While it will certainly make you wish you were out dancing with your friends it will also comfort you while you cannot.