- The Midlands producer continues to grow his Coil Universe, leading us into an Eden of AI-worshipping forest creatures soundtracked by gentle garage and grime.
- Murlo is a bit of a musical storyteller. The British producer and illustrator has been crafting a made-up world—the Coil Universe—since 2017, starting with the dreary and sepia-hued dystopia of Coil City where, according to this music video from the Club Coil EP, a DJ sits alone in their studio, no longer playing out. It then moves onto Dolos, where another tired character (presumably the same one, though it's unclear) flees to the forest that surrounds Coil City and stumbles across mythical, otherworldly folk. On Puckle, Murlo's latest album, we learn of a cult in the forest who worship a synthetic deity—essentially, AI—led by a man named Puckle. This most recent episode is illustrated through artwork, sculptures, a compendium of writing and, of course, Murlo's blend of UK garage and grime, showing how committed he is to adding colour and depth to this fantasy world.
None of these artistic extras feel like they're making up for some lack in the music. The way Murlo enriches his production with classical and ambient flourishes defines the character of Puckle's forest cult more than the figurines he's made for the LP. The shimmering vocals on "Human Pulp" fall into a catchy UK garage beat, fun and full of confidence. The sprightly string motif on the 2-step tune "Germ" brings to mind this giddy (if a little silly) theme from The Legend Off Zelda: The Wind Waker, and the pizzicato plucks on the plodding grime instrumental "Elosion" add an elegance akin to Japanese court music. It makes the cult out to be a band of small, slightly devious creatures living in some sort of utopia—like the Lilliputians in T.H. White's Mistress Masham's Repose or the garden fairies in Moebius's The World of Edena.
Field recordings and other ambient effects reinforce this imagery of a sylvan paradise far from the drudgery of Coil City. Crunching footsteps and trickling water meander in the background of "Weight of a River," the beating of dragonfly wings and other fluttery effects whizz through the soundscape of "Germ" and the faint chirrup of birdsong and children playing fill the silences on "Pearl." It's bright and innocent, even more so than Dolos, which held onto a lingering malevolence by way of deep brass notes and overdriven guitar chords (see "Ascension").
By contrast, there's little to no darkness on Puckle. Despite the inclusion of an accusatory letter addressed to Puckle ordering him "to stop fraternising with the AI" in the accompanying story, the album's bliss is rarely disturbed. There are heavier moments like "Calcium," a scatty house tune which sounds like the cult randomly decided to have a rave, or "Gobsmack," which brings back the wild LFO wobble from the early days of brostep. The heavy-handed nature of these songs feels abrupt beside the gentler textures elsewhere on the album, but they don't derail it either.
"Solstice" and "Adrenaline" are the best examples of where power and intensity work well on Puckle. "Solstice" races at 180 BPM with gated vocals and angular arpeggios, like someone scribbling their name in the air with a sparkler, while an industrial synth leads the way on "Adrenaline." These shows of strength seem to me like glimpses of the synthetic forest god, feeding the cult with energy and purpose. So although Puckle sticks to a primary palette of emotions, there is something to be said for how easy and enjoyable it is to get on board with its imagery. Now every time I listen to Puckle I end up picturing this mythical cult and actually rooting for their happiness.
Tracklist01. Carapace
02. High Heaven
03. Germ
04. Solstice
05. Human Pulp
06. Weight Of A River
07. Elosion
08. Calcium
09. Gobsmace
10. Two Distant Lands
11. Pearl
12. Cat Got Your Tongue
13. Adrenaline