Brighton Fusion

Matthew Dear

Lout present Matthew Dear

£8.50 adv
Doors 7pm

Depending on whom you ask, Matthew Dear is a DJ, a dance-music producer, an experimental pop artist, a bandleader. He co-founded both Ghostly International and its dancefloor offshoot, Spectral Sound. He’s had remixes commissioned by The XX, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Spoon, Hot Chip, The Postal Service, and Chemical Brothers; he’s made mixes for the Fabric mix series and Get Physical’s Body Language. He maintains four aliases (Audion, False, Jabberjaw, and Matthew Dear), each with its own style and distinct visual identity. He straddles multiple musical worlds and belongs to none—and he’s just hitting his stride.

Matthew Dear’s 2003 full-length Ghostly debut, Leave Luck to Heaven, is a suite of sparse, wickedly funky house laced with Dear’s deep, distinctive vocals, and includes the much-loved single “Dog Days” (voted one of Pitchfork’s Top 100 Songs of the Decade). The record was met with rapturous acclaim from both the dance-music establishment and the critical press, including a four-star review in Rolling Stone. Dear’s 2007 follow-up.

Asa Breed, is a considerable departure from Heaven’s dancefloor excursions, incorporating the polyrhythms of Afrobeat, the irreverent pop sensibilities of Brian Eno, and the austere beauty of Krautrock. More four-stars reviews followed (Q and Mojo magazines), and Dear subsequently began touring with a live three-piece band, Matthew Dear’s Big Hands, in which he acted as frontman, commanding the stage with a Bryan Ferry-like swagger and a gentleman’s grace.

Today, Matthew Dear finds himself in a unique position. His highly anticipated fourth album, 2010’s Black City, is the culmination of years of hard work and experimentation, a darkly playful sound-world that envelops the listener like the arms of a malevolent lover. After over a decade of exploring pop’s outer limits, Matthew Dear now inhabits a rarefied corner of the musical universe: no longer tethered to any one genre, respected by his peers, and blessed with a bottomless well of creative energy. Now is Matthew Dear’s moment, and it sounds like nothing else.

Matthew Dear’s Black City can’t be found on any map. It’s a composite, an imaginary metropolis peopled by desperate cases, lovelorn souls, and amoral motives. Like most literary Gothams, Black City is a place to love and hate, as seedy as a nightclub’s back room and as seductive as the promise of power. Matthew Dear, the musician, may live in New York City, but the Matthew Dear of Black City inhabits a sound-world unlike any other: a monument to the shadowy side of urban life that bumps and creaks, shudders and wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. Black City is Matthew Dear’s third album on Ghostly International, and it’s his darkest and most engrossing work to date.

From the first notes of album opener “Honey”, it’s clear that the love-obsessed Matthew Dear of 2007’s Asa Breed has given way to a more existentially paranoid entity, as creeping tempos dominate, cavernous atmospherics envelop the listener, and strange distortions crackle on the horizon. In Black City, nothing is at it seems: leadoff single “Little People (Black City)” is a nine-and-a-half minute disco odyssey, subverting its gleaming electronic lead with eerily giddy backing vocals and cryptic, ominous lyrics (“a frozen wasted heart / has died”, “love me like a clown”); “You Put a Smell on Me” is a sordid sex romp set to hysterically chattering percussion and a serrated synth line that will set your teeth on edge; “More Surgery” at first recalls the barely-there Krautrock of Harmonia in its burbling minimalism, until Dear’s chanted chorus of “Alter genetics / to make my body glow / I need more surgery / there’s so much more to know” sends the track hurtling into a dystopian future.

And yet, for all the foreboding moods on Black City, it’s the album’s sweeter moments that illustrate Matthew Dear’s growing maturity as a songwriter. “Slowdance” is a futuristic lullaby in which Dear articulates a lover’s helplessness (“I can’t be the one to tell you everything’s wrong”) over breathy, Arthur Russell-esque cello swishes; the album-closing “Gem” is an achingly simple, reverb-drenched piano ballad that ends with a long, slow fade. Even in Matthew Dear’s Black City, there is hope.

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