Nocturnal Emissions in Dub volume two (2020)

When the first one came out, I assumed it would be - you know - a remix of Going Under or No Sacrifice with more echo, but no, it actually did what it said on the notional tin, and actually did it without making me think of Alan Partridge. For anyone still wrestling with the idea of Nocturnal Emissions as dub reggae, all I can suggest is that you listen to the stuff because he's not fucking about. As with other stylistic bathtubs into which the Ayers toe has been submerged, the man knows what he's doing, and after a couple of plays the shock should have worn off.

With hindsight, I realise the first volume probably wasn't such a surprise after all because for all that its heart seems clearly rooted in the general vicinity of the Effra Road, the percussive sounds, the hi-hat, and the shreds of musique concrete all skitter around the bass and the melody with a rhythm - and a disregard for rhythm - which you will certainly recognise from those previous Emissions less conspicuously in thrall to King Tubby, Scientist and the like.

There seems to be less stretching of boundaries on this one, or at least less of them stretched in a particular direction off towards something distantly related to drum and bass; or to put it another way, volume two has more of a traditional sound in so much as that most of this could have come from a semi-regular band going through a sound desk. It's more organic, less about wave forms pasted to another part of the screen, at least spiritually. This isn't, by the way, to suggest musical conservatism, more like if the first volume took us up to maybe eleven in the evening, this one takes us to around four in the morning, by which point we're all seriously fucking stewed, barely even able to stand (not that we have any need to do so) as we're sucked in by the rhythm. I'm assuming that description should be familiar to at least some of you.

Volume two takes it back from the digital rasta vibe of its predecessor to something predating dancehall, something in which the hand which crafted Viral Shedding is clearly heard, particularly in the bass, but which absorbed a different set of influences from its south-east London environment in a variant timeline. This is a mighty and righteous sound, as they probably say.