A BrEaCh of All Norms

 

Bristolian (oh yeah, so Bristol is the OG hood of excellent underground music) BrEaCh is a man of many talents. Trained as a classical cellist and vocalist since the age of 10, he had always been influenced by soul, jazz, house and the street music – hip hop. He was baptized into Church of G-Funk when “Straight Outta Compton” by N.W.A. blessed all the hoods in the world (if you were born in or before the 90′s, you know you had to claim your gangsta rights listening to that shit. Rrrruuuthlessssss!!!!). His musical career started as Ben Westbeech in 2006, as a vocalist and producer and he has since collaborated with many dons of the drum&bass genre, including DJ Marky, Nu:Tone, and DJ Die. Westbeech’s probably most well known track “Get Closer“, in which he sampled the soul/funk singer, keyboardist Linda Williams’ “Elevate Our Minds“, is a classic example of his inspiration.

Last summer he came out with THE tune of the season, so playful, so soulful, almost acid jazz – “Something for the Weekend”, and his remix of the said track with a banger drumline.

This very summer he launches a new record label, Naked Naked with the release of his carefully composed track “You Won’t Find Love Again”. Does it sound like a typical house track to you? It might, but if you notice, there is actually nothing wrong with it. None of that tacky shit. Velvet subkick and that garagey hi hat with the twinkling synth and classy bits of vocals.

Sorry, no freebies on this one, cause I want you to support him. Or just find your own free download links. Haha.

All in all, this man’s basically a go-getter and his outputs influenced by a diverse spectrum (“Fuck the Police..” to Mozart’s Sonata) of music will exceed all norms and expectations.

If you’re down with the “healthy dose of bass” and a little moody vibesss like that of Claude Von Stroke’s dirtybird Records, you’ve got to peep BrEaCh’s set on Boiler Room. He’s an excellent DJ.

Finally, I just wanna thank my boyo William J for introducing me to BrEaCh and a bajillion other artists. He practically brought me the joy of appreciating old and new house, because I never really liked house before. More on the bajillion other artists later though.

Sex Bomb [#3]

 

Some of you think that ‘Closer’ is one of the sexiest songs out there. You think the song’s lyrics push the boundaries without falling off the edge of reason. The singer almost pleading for release makes you strain under your own desire. You believe the minimal beat crunches at your loins, making you topple to your knees as liquid lust soothes the inside of you thigh. You mimic the electronic grinding on the dance floor with another similarly sex crazed animal. To top it all off you think the video brings the whole track to a crescendo of bold imagery and unsubtle primal madness.

…And I would have to agree except for the ‘Ne-Yo’ part. You see coincidentally another song comes to mind with the same name and similar themes, however it’s assimilated by none other than Nine Inch Nails…
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Sex Bomb [#2]


“Kookoocachoo!” I hear you cry,”What music is shagadelic?” Take a deep breath my children and I will show you. When I think of the 70s I think of a Mustachioed Ron Burgundy look alike snorting crack off the bonnet of a Pontiac Firebird whilst inside of a barely legal cheer girl all caught up in his gruff man stuff. In other words: sex, drugs and rock n roll.

Since this is a music column the rock n roll bit is quite important. The seventies were the middle of the sexual revolution and so you’d assume there was some pretty good sexual healing going on. This was helped along with the aforementioned rock n roll but it seems without the two other key parts of that trinity the music would be a catalyst for disaster. So on what grounds can you call the music of the seventies in effect the pied piper of sexual frustration? Without the drugs, like the lifting of a pair of 3D glasses, they had this…

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Sex Bomb [#1]

As Barry White was to setting the mood, I am to killing it. Him the Walrus of love and me…the naked mole rat of cynicism. Let me set the scene, you’ve got a potential lover back at your place and you’re both jacked up on the pre-coitus energy. You excuse yourself to ‘powder your nose’ and slip into something more comfortable. You gel your ‘short ‘n’ curlies’ into a remarkable lookalike of Krusty the Clown. You wash the gel off and go outside hanging on the door frame suggestively for a moment and grin. Your lover blushes and turns their head down eager but nervous, cowering a little at you sexual prowess. You saunter over and tilt their head up bringing your lips quiveringly close. You whisper softly and gently, “Fire in the hole.” Clearly enamored by your advance you feel that your mate’s willingness will be ultimately secured by a bit of music. But this is where you falter; grasping the knob of your stereo you turn it like an evil henchman in a Bond movie and for the same reason. You’ve no idea what you’re doing!

Don’t worry I’m here to help

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