Acid Accumulation Parlour.

I feel like there's something that Warp Records is looking for when they're signing a new artist. It's often said that the label's philosophy is to produce 'tomorrow's classics' (and enormous forward-sightedness is true of many of their artists), but 'futuristic' is a label that probably fails to do justice to the latest album by American hip-hop producer (and more) Steven Ellison, a.k.a. Flying Lotus. In the same way that Warp labelmates Boards of Canada or Squarepusher achieve in their music what could be described as a remix of history itself (often drawing influences from jazz, 50s ballroom music and even the corny synthy music of educational nature videos), Flying Lotus scans the vast global musical tapestry of the 20th century's and filters it through the lens of the 21st. The result is Los Angeles, Ellison's second album, and in my opinion a really fluid, dynamic and scintillating work.

Los Angeles is at once an album of contrasts: the opener, Brainfeeder, features a full bodied synth melody (so scifi you can practically see the spaceships spinning across the sky) against the scratchy vinyl interference of one of your grandad's old records, two completely incongruous elements which work impeccably well together. In fact, the pops and clicks of vinyl is a sound that continues across the entire album, an idea which, while could be criticised as an easy method of giving an album a certain vintage quality, never falls to the level of gimmickry. Ellison's use of this lo-fi aesthetic is instrumental in selling some of the album's best ideas, from the gorgeous atmospheric drum ceremony in Melt! to the swaggery chillout in Golden Diva.

Flying Lotus's talent also lies in his ability to reimagine and invigorate old sounds which have the danger of sounding kitsch to modern ears. Testament, with its impassioned vocals and deep cello plucks is a beat-driven track in the style of 90s trip-hop (arguably with the same cabaret flavour as Portishead). GNG BNG on the other hand is like a corrupted throwaway beat experiment from the 80s hip hop archives, what with its decadent use of sitars and xylophones; but then, when the hyperactive snares and peaking synth kick in,  transforms into the sort of electrorock Air might have been making circa Moon Safari. You might not feel like the sounds on Los Angeles  are alien to you, but there's no doubt that you'll hear them in a completely different way.

Aside from the retro stylings, this is an album where Ellison really showcases his talents as a music producer. His brand of slippery, syncopated beats don't lose their edge or run out of steam at any point on the album, and there's enough broadness in his musical scope to always keep your attention; the beats and sounds in a track like Camel sound incomparably different to that of the brooding Riot or uppity Sleeping Dinosaur, but they all match each other in idiosyncracy. Overall, Los Angeles matches fascinating ideas with inspired execution, and not only is there something new to discover with each listen, it's endlessly enjoyable to listen to.

A feast for the ears and the brain: 8.0

2008 is probably high time for a new watershed in electronic music. For a genre that is usually where people look for musical progressiveness, retrospectivity has been the name of the game for quite a while now. Justice's 2007 full-length Cross reimagined disco with its robo-glam beats and low-fi synths, while albums from both The Presets and Digitalism brought a rock philosophy to a new brand of abrasive, muscular electro.

As far as musical retrospectivity goes, the burgeoning chiptune scene has it in spades, and it could just be the watershed we're looking for. Using the 8-bit noises from 80s video games immediately sounds to me like a great idea- in all honesty there is something totally fresh about the sound. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that video game music history cannot be separated from its electronic origins; while rock and jazz have a illustrious social and musical history behind it, game music was born as digital notches in Japanese consoles, and stands as such an alien and completely recognisable sound. It's important to remember that the music in landmark games like Super Mario Bros. serves a completely different purpose to concert music. Game musix is  composed to directly complement a narrative, unashamedly forcing an emotional reaction in the listener; its the domain of the victory and the death theme, the ominous brooding tune when you enter a dark cave, and the euphoric melody whe you pass a level. With childlike innocence it wears its every emotion on its sleeve.

But is chiptune that watershed? Despite its appeal, as it stands right now its pretty inaccessible, as it can't deliver a lot of what makes conventional music fun. Try getting a thumping bassline or ascerbic, IDM-style beats out of a GameBoy. What chiptune needs is a showcase album to demonstrate its merits without letting it miss the mark of enjoyability.

Crystal Castle's self-titled debut is that album. Having gained attention from the mainstream for the appearance of their single 'Alice Practice' on the British teen drama Skins, Crystal Castles have shown that they can craft totally original, devastating chiptune dance pieces with complete emotional honesty. 'Alice Practice' is a video game firestorm, with martial beats against a highly layered synth melody, made all the more compelling (yet tortuous) with the banshee vocals of Alice Glass. It sets the pace for the rest of the album, with other fantastic dance efforts like 'Xxzxcuzx Me' and 'Love and Caring' driven with the same powerful bass and hyperactive sample melodies.

But even during its many slower moments, Crystal Castles never runs out of steam. The playfulness of 'Crimewave' (featuring noise band HEALTH, a recent collaborator with the duo) and 'Untrust Us' is a joy to listen to. The second single 'Courtship Dating' superbly executes the band's many meritable ideas and is probably the best electronic song I've heard since Simian Mobile Disco's 'I Believe'. I was happy to hear (what I thought was) a bit of Aphex Twin influence, not just from the masterful intricate beats, but also the casual melodies on songs like 'Magic Spells' and 'Knights'.

Crystal Castles has also gained attention because of the interesting persona of its vocalist, Alice Glass. She is not a ubiquitous presence on the album, but her turns in 'Courtship Dating' and 'Good Time' make her one of the most interesting vocalists to listen to, up there with Bjork and James Murphy (of LCD Soundsystem). Vocals on what is essentially an album of video game music may seem heretic, which may be true, but here they can't often be distinguished from the music itself. The alien, animal-like calls and chirps in the fantastic 'Air War' is another example of a bit of a trend in music at the moment: vocal alteration (see Bloc Party and Battles). The vocals in this album never go against the grain but always make it something special.

There is a danger for an album like this that the use of video game sounds would be gimmickry; it is often true that the use of a distinctive and not-often drawn upon style of music is jumped upon by an artist in an attempt at originality (see Venetian Snares' Rossz Csillag Alatt Szuletett, a drum and bass revisitation of 19th century Hungarian classical music). This is not the case here at all: this album could through and through be mistaken for video game music, as it embodies all the emotional honesty and innocence of the game music philosophy. But even forgetting its chiptune flavour, Crystal Castles is simply completely original electro, filled with lots of new and interesting ideas, and turning its influences into something fresh. Most importantly, its awesome to listen to.

9/10, and i can't wait for more.

• Uni is great, if not somewhat disorienting. Aside from the obvious differences (the throwing off of the constraints of high school, the lawn-chilling), what excites me most is (at least in Arts) honing your critical edge simply requires you to read as much and as widely as possible, and in all the areas that take your fancy. This appeared to me an enthralling and comforting thought, that my course would lend itself to an understanding of the greater world, rather than the acquisition of a repertoire of specialised skills. This leads to the other side of the coin, however; uni has brought to me a whole range of new fears and anxieties as well. Managing an array of friends to fit in with my time is not looking easy. Who I actually want to be friends with is harder still. As far as academic work goes, it's all well and good that an Arts degree will rely on some participation and observation of culture, but my greatest fear is what, during my traversal of the course, I'll leave behind. I already reckon I've lost a hefty amount of literary vocabulary, a lot of it having atrophied over lack of use; it doesn't pay to be eloquent if you don't want people to resent you. I can sacrifice smart for cool- at least, I can be a different person when I'm alone. But different identities are like managing a pack of dogs.
• Do we fall in love with someone's personality or their sexuality? I know a person who is in a relationship with someone of the same sex- that partner had been married and had a kid. What about a person who is attracted to the same sex but still wants (genuinely, irrespective of outside influence) to be in a loving relationship with someone of the opposite sex exclusively? Is it because while they are sexually compatible with the same sex, they may be more capable of a long term relationship with the opposite sex? Could this work the other way round?
  Not that I pretend to have all the answers, but personality has to play some role in who we fall in love with. What I don't know is how sexuality intersects with this. Think of a functioning, organised married couple ten, fifteen years after they were wed. If they're still happy to see each other when they come home from work each day, if they still sit in front of the TV with their kids, can they have forgotten about when they were rampantly hungry for each other more than fifeen years before? Or do they still need to want to have sex for the marriage to last the years?
• I tell you what, I can try to deny it, but I fucking love games. Books and stories rivet me, movies engross me, music entertains me, but games transport me. I just got a 360, I've been playing Assassin's Creed- it's brilliant. Its another one of the games I might consider adding (but it'll have to work hard) to the list of the games that I can honestly say have shaped the way I am: Metroid, Zelda, Morrowind, Donkey Kong, Resident Evil, Alice, Secret of Mana, Illusion of Time. Games can reach majestic heights of narrative brilliance, create completely immersive spaces and concepts, and provide truly vast opportunities for the individual and the collective to explore and have fun. I don't think games are a corruptive media form, I don't think they foster moral decay. I think they're art, with all the new-millenial potential as hypertext and viral video. So go play.

• I've never had much exposure to highly genderfucked people, but when I watched Chris Crocker's video about Codependency I had a pause for thought. While its no secret to myself that I crave validation and that I can feel very weak without it, I didn't consider whether this was indicative of anything more than a little negligible personality trait. But do I fail to love myself? Probably, and its very much my custom when i'm feeling down to bolster myself with unrealistic and narcissistic fantasies of being famous, or revered, or powerful- rather than just being myself. Which is why today, when I walked away from work after a day involving an altercation with my colleagues and no less than a heated argument with one in particular, I was shocked that I walked away, not embarassed, not regretful, but embolded by some sense of solidity or identity. Today was the first time I thought that I was all needed to be happy.
• Do you want to know what the altercation with my colleagues was about? A drunk man came into my work, he ordered some coffee and sat down, and then couldn't hear us when we called it out for him, and when he did he staggered up and took it, offering to pay for it although he already had, and seeming not to hear our responses. He lurched around his table and looked like he was going to fall, but he didn't. Anyway, the police rocked up- some customers had called it. I was furious- this man wasn't bothering anyone, he didn't smell, he wasn't doing anything unlawful or even offensive. However, what he did serve as was an ugly blot of poverty on a consumer heaven horizon, which obviously offended against the ettiquette protocol ettiquette of some idiot, whose sense of social justice is so far up their ass it's broiling with their latte. It ended with me arguing my case, no one really being convinced by it but arguing back all the same, and me feeling only a little bit proud for not backing down on my opinions. I got on with the workers after that, so I guess I've got away with not suffering for my opinions.
• Right now I'm not academic. But for magical intervals during the day my mind is livewired.
• My favourite symbol of the moment is a medicross. I'd love it tattooed somewhere on my body where you can see it- somehow, deep down, there's a medibot in me, who was engineered with the duty to heal.

• Money makes the world go round. Does it make your head go round too? I'm sure that the cashed-up middle class soccer mums who come in to me for coffee don't think money drives their existence, but when I look in their eyes, one after another, each of them breaking a $50 dollar note to pay for a $3.60 cup of coffee, I see differently. These people stroll round the city in a state of respectable, fashionable cleanliness, daydreaming of yachts and horse races. They chat about their mortgages and credit ratings with their best friends on their glittering mobile phones, and see the world in utter technicolour grandeur: pink and orange cosmetics, gold and silver Guess bags, green and blue AMEX cards. They mutter a coffee order, get pissed off with you for asking them to repeat it, and then won't look at you when they're handing over their money. You hand their coffee to them, and fifteen minutes later they will come back, complaining that the coffee is warm. We'll make it again, but drink it immediately this time, you plastic slab of filth. If you spend your time harassing hospitality workers for contributing to a momentary dip in the state of absolute fabulousness that is your life, then I can tell you're not thinking about Sudan, China, or Cambodia. And every time one of you rich sluts pays out a passing Aborigine I would love to remind you that its in their place that you're living the good life, and at their expense that you are rich.