This means, however, that Flume stands as an introduction for many into the realm of downtempo electronic music. The vocal-driven tracks in particular make for excellent alternatives to the 4x4 intensity of most of today’s pop provided on the air, and the summery, laid-back tunes provide a counterpoint to the intensely hedonistic fare typically served. It’s understandable that some of the songs on the album have wormed their way onto the radio. Large pockets of the album are unequivocally drab: the aimless bleeps of “Ezra,” the limp arpeggios of “Warm Thoughts,” the bleached, repetitive synths of “Bring You Down.”
As much as the term “overproduced” is a cop-out of sorts, especially regarding a gleaming final product like this, that heinous word seems to be exactly Streten’s problem: all the vivacity and vigor present in the best downtempo hip-hop-esque LPs is lost somewhere in the sluggishly shuffling hi-hats and jangly claps. Which is how the faults of the album are best explained: all the life present in the album’s inception is squeezed out of the remainder by Flume’s immaculately controlled songmaking.
#Flume albums free
Even when making music for dancing, Streten takes pains to keep his production in check: not once does a rowdy synth break free from the confines of sluggish, torpid beats. Even the one definitively dancefloor-based tune, “More Than You Thought,” is nothing if not subdued: the quasi-bass-drop and distorted low end rely on a weepy mid-range to provide contrast. In that regard, Flume is a sort of countermeasure, the anthem of the counter-culture of young people all around the world who prefer natural lights to the artificial, buzzing glare of the clubs. The laid-back vibe of producers like Nujabes has fallen out of the spotlight, replaced by the growling basslines of Rustie’s neon-glazed trap. Of course, there’s inevitably something to be said about the album’s lack of presence, especially given the maximalist tendencies exhibited by much of today’s hip-hop beats. T.Shirt’s lackluster rapping and near-total flatness doesn’t particularly help, either, and the clashing vocals and out-of-place chiptune of the prechorus represent the downward trajectory of the rest of the album. The first song following the transition, “On Top,” drenches the dulcet hip-hop tones from before with overbearing sidechaining and a jarring synth lead. Streten’s vivacious beats give way to anemia within only a few songs, and the shockingly fast loss of life strikes quickly and leaves a broken album in its wake. Continuing the “sun-drenched” metaphor for a moment, if the first bit of Flume rejoices in the summer heat the remainder suffers from severe sunstroke. However, the excellence of the first few songs ends up as more of a carrot on a stick than an accurate representation of the album as a whole. Just take the wonderful Chet Faker feature “Left Alone:” the swanky soul of the sun-drenched chords and claps establishes the song as a standout, a mark of the album’s quality. The undeniable glow of the album’s exposition is remarkable, and during the opening minutes it’s easy to believe Flume has found his voice. The passionate R&B and vibrant kicks of the anthemic “Holdin’ On” mark Flume as something different: there’s life in his music. And, as far as the beginning of the album goes, it seems as though Streten does indeed have something interesting to say. Right from the syncopated accordion-like chords and thumping bass drum of opening track “Sintra,” Flume (22-year-old Australian producer Harley Streten) makes it clear his sound has a point, a composer determined not to get lost in the bevy of hip-hop and downtempo producers making insipid beats for a quick buck or a shot at fame and glory.
Review Summary: In with a bang, out with a whimperįlume comes in with some sort of downtempo equivalent to a bang.
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