- In a recent conversation on his No Symbols blog, the London-based Beneath suggested that the UK had become a "dead island." "There's deadness everywhere," responded Klaus. "It's capitalism." He went on to suggest that dance music could be a refuge, but then changed his mind. "I guess I was thinking about when I used to go out 5-10 years ago, and feel like everyone in the space shared a certain view on the world or they wouldn't be there. But things are pretty different now."
Perhaps this disillusionment explains the direction Klaus's music has taken. A member of James Blake's 1-800-Dinosaur crew, his taste was forged in the crucible of mid to late '00s London: DMZ, FWD>>, Theo Parrish at Plastic People. His tracks gave the sounds around him a reflective spin, but over time they became ever deeper, shedding their ties to dance music. In that same interview he laments the increasing privilege of the dance scene; on his Twitter he can be found criticising branded events, or the pay inequality between DJs and club staff.
Cry Tuff / Gus / Bela, the latest in a trickle of records on Klaus's Tanum label, holds dance music at a greater distance than ever. Tele / Delta / Luc, his previous record, at least had a subterranean dub pulse. The gorgeous "Cry Tuff," whose runout groove reads "FOR ALL WHO STRUGGLE AGAINST INJUSTICE AND OPPRESSION," discards even that. Instead, its murky sounds crest in mournful waves—something to float in rather than move to.
The B-side is slightly more dynamic. On "Gus," distant voices and snippets of strings or swirling synth reverberate over a windswept ambient backdrop. The closer, "Bela," is two minutes of shimmering chord. Unlike the A-side, these tracks offer glimpses of hope. The whole record is ambient pure and simple, lacking the tension between dance floor propulsion and aquatic space that animates Klaus's best tracks. But when you hear his reasoning, it's hard to resent Klaus for wanting to check out of the scene.
TracklistA1 Cry Tuff
B1 Gus
B2 Bela