Pitchfork
74
We’re five or 10 years into the latest deep house revival, 30-odd years since the style first coalesced. Yet in all that time, no one has come up with a precise definition of the style. Deep house is less a set of characteristics as it is a kind of blue, a mood recognizable primarily for its woozy, immersive pull. If house music’s steady thump is the anchor, then everything else—synths, bassline, vocals, effects—tosses to and fro like kelp in the current.
Few have taken house music deeper than Ron Trent and his Prescription label, which he co-founded with Chez Damier in 1993. Ron Trent Presents – Prescription: Word, Sound & Power is a snapshot of the label’s mid-’90s heyday, when Prescription developed an instantly recognizable sound rooted in the jacking grooves of early Chicago house, splashed with moody tone color, and crosscut with Afro-Latin polyrhythms. The compilation’s 24 tracks—nearly all by Trent, either solo or in collaboration with artists like Damier and Anthony Nicholson—highlight Prescription’s sweet spot: not too rough, not too slick, and swirled with dusky color.
Unlike Trent’s early hit “Altered States” and its larger-than-life hook, these tracks tend to conceal more than they reveal. There are few obvious melodies; instead, sounds painted on in overlapping layers create the illusion of unfathomable depth. Trent has described his style at the time as “drum-orientated Chicago rhythm tracks with a minimalistic melody,” and the key word there is tracks: Unlike songs, these tumbling perpetual-motion machines have no verses or choruses, no bridges, no reprises. They roll straight ahead in an unswerving line, climbing upward at a steady, 30-degree grade until, some imperceptible climax having been reached, they begin their descent, shedding layers as they lose elevation. But such simple additive and subtractive arrangements don’t account for the complex ways in which those moving parts interact. Three or four drum patterns—machine sequences, disco breaks, cowbells, congas—might run in parallel at any given moment, each with its own particular sense of swing and syncopation. Similarly, what might sound at first like a single set of chords reveals itself to be four or five different layers of synthesizer, organ, Rhodes, and sampled voice, all fused into one rippling wave.
Chez-N Trent’s anthemic “The Choice” is the only selection that grabs you by the lapels, but its charm lies in the details: rimshots so vivid you can practically feel the grain on the sticks; a wheezy ghost rhythm of sampled grunts and hiccups. Trent’s 13-minute “Seduction” strikes an impeccable balance between atmosphere and sheer muscle: Shakers and syncopated bassline keep pushing things forward, even as deep blue chords apply a narcotic sense of drag. At their best, Trent’s tunes throw up the faintest hint of a silvery hook, just enough to draw you deeper into their tidal flux.
The album’s very best track is its first: “Morning Factory,” which Trent and Damier made in their Detroit studio following the 10-hour drive home from New York, where they’d gone to see Junior Vasquez spin at the Sound Factory. Inspired by the clarity of the club’s sound system and the energy on the dancefloor, the tune samples Kerri Chandler’s Atmosphere EP, a 12-inch they’d picked up on their trip to the city. Even though the link is clear—those aquamarine chords are a dead giveaway—“Morning Factory” ultimately sounds nothing like its source material. Where Chandler’s tune is crisp and clearly defined, “Morning Factory” is a soft and spongy, with shakers, bells, and synths dubbed into a vaporous haze. Atmosphere was, at the time, about as deep as deep house got. But with “Morning Factory,” Trent and Damier blew the dimensions of the style wide open. Today, anyone traversing the outer limits of deep house still follows in their wake.
Sat Mar 18 05:00:00 GMT 2017