Collaboration in funk is essential. Analog Love gets it. Dabeull gets it. Just one track without a featured artist on his boogie presentation and the good times roll. A hangover, a heatwave and a hurt finger, ripped by the side of a dress zipper, is not the ideal trio. But it is up to the music we listen to at the time to recover some semblance of civilisation from our weakened state of mind and spirit. Those waves of heat are tense. There is no release from the sparks of sweat and stuffy conditions in an office overlooking the pub. You can close the blinds all you like; heat finds a way. So too does Analog Love, a wonderful album which does not relent in its Parisian charms and funk desire. Incredible stuff for a day like today, where despite the future bleakness, the unrelenting force of the sun is cooking you alive.
Be cooked alive to the beat and groove of the opener Sweet Baby. This is the time, and this is the place, indeed. The retro-like tones of this funk record are congealed but welcome. A fresh flash of old sounds left behind for no reason. Revive them and return them to the frontlines of music. Dabeull does so and has a nice time with Analog Love. Some obvious sampling on this opening song and the title repetition sets the scene. It’s decent work and an exceptionally light, layered album. There is a reason Analog Love relies so heavily on Holybrune. Frankly, she is the best part of the album. This is no slight on Dabeull, the creative qualities of his sound are heard clearly on saxophone heavy In My Mind.
Hold off on those comparisons to Daft Punk. France is not just for electronic duos. Dabeull does well to move the sound away from what the genre can expect with some wider, grander adaptations of mixing qualities. Analog Love is a decent listen filled with a welcome flow, a consistency which is hard to gauge but easy to enjoy. The heat is on. On it goes, pounding the roof and bleeding through the shut windows. A hot box of the holy man’s creation. Analog Love is best enjoyed without sweat dripping from your forehead but needs must. An assured creation where the easy-going style of soul and funk overtakes the electronics in some spots. Body Heat is rather fitting given the grim conditions of the weather. Dry your keyboard. Rip your shirt off.
Dabeull has provided an image and sound fitting of a knock at the overly suave mind. A wink to the camera and a blazer without the shirt. Smooth stuff which comes as a knock at those who wear sunglasses indoors. Analog Love is a formidable and exciting release. There is a tinge of the 1980s pop scene with the lyrics here. Out of context and vaguely sexualised notions on I Can’t Stop have the sounds of leg warmer workout videos with the cool bass groove of vintage B-Movies. Those mock-ups of shlock are often overworked by nostalgia, but Dabeull plays it smart, his release a consistent piece. Quite simply a cool album. One for the late-night drives. Suitable only for those who can drive, or can sweat to death in their home office, the windows closed because the pub next door hasn’t shuffled their playlist in six months. Add some Dabeull.
