Music for the Uninvited

Dance music for the introverted is not new. There was a reason Kool & The Gang had to shout “get your back up off the wall!” There are going to be people who are physically in the club but inhabiting the insular world. Perhaps that goes doubly for the people spinning the tunes. Being a DJ is its own odd dissonance, someone working hard to make everybody move, while transfixed on the boards in front of them, captivated and consumed by the possibilities of the music.

The sillily named, but fairly apropos, “outsider house” movement of the 2010s was music that venerated the internal. Using vaporwave aesthetics, tape deck hiss and a smattering mix of queer musical revolutions from Stonewall to Detroit warehouses, artists from the ironic (DJ Seinfeld) to the transcendent (Nic Jaar) futzed with the DNA of house music, prepping it for the club and the afterhours comedown at home, cat in lap, headphones blocking out the world. English producer Leon Vynehall loved both worlds, coming up at Brighton club Akaakaroar as the resident DJ. At first, his music only existed live, with a few scant singles and splits in the early 2010s as proof of his misty, thrumming work. Then came his stunning Music for the Uninvited, released this month 10 years ago.

Vynehall said that Music for the Uninvited was a tribute to voguing and the origin of house music, but also carefully selected the most intimate, private moments to emulate. The title is a tribute for those about to throw a dance party in their living room with the cat on the aux, or for someone going to a club they have no right to be in and need a mote of calming confidence. And, for the introverts, Uninvited opens with a video game tribute. “Inside the Deku Tree,” a nod to Legend of Zelda nostalgia, boarders on being a chamber piece rather than a dance tune. The fiendishly catchy violin work dominates the early moments, and the entire song doesn’t have a single kick drum. Instead, Vynehall floats in the higher frequencies, punctuating the song with brimming chimes and otherworldly synths.

Despite “Inside the Deku Tree”’s opening curve ball, it also sets the scene for how vibrantly textured the entirety of Music for the Uninvited is. The kick drums on “Goodthing” probably crash down better in the club, but the wavering motions of the synths, the hints of tape hiss bubbling in the background, the vague vocal delay hanging in the corner like a wallflower, that’s all for the insular world. The finest slices of Music for the Uninvited come from the mid-range. Vynehall’s hi-hats and hooks are always pristine, his kick drums ever pulsing, but he tinkers with the details between. There’s “Goodthing”’s opening, humid synths, the stirring, chopped up rhythm on “Pier Children,” the swirling melody coursing through “Christ Air” that recalls the pensive moments of the Berlin School. It was easy enough to get carried away by the rhythm, but Vynehall hid hypnotizing details in the margins, like Bob Ross’ happy little trees. The slow rolling triumph of “Be Brave, Clinch Fists,” isn’t a barnburner, instead it unfurls graciously, the gentle waves of strings and synths rolling out like flags in a breeze as the hi-hats slowly pick up speed. It’s never rushed but is brimming with confidence. Like Frankie Knuckes’ best moments, it fuses sensuality with serenity.

Perhaps that hyper-fixation on warmth and minutia also gives Music for the Uninvited its sleepy-eyed feel. The EP is late night/early morning listening, where bouncing back out to the club or falling into a dream filled halfsleep seem equally likely. But there’s a restlessness in the recording. Vynehall never sits still in his loops, revealing more and more as the songs evolve at their own pace. Take the long build of “Be Brave,” which delays its gratification for minutes before its radiant, loose bass line goes into quadruple time and becomes the melodic foundation.

Vynehall would go on expand on both sides of his influences, and two songs here suggested his path. “It’s Just (House of Dupree)” was both his most explicit nod to queer nightlife and the one true banger on Music for the Uninvited.  The joyous vocal sample, rattling cowbell and first half eruption into slinky bliss previewed his follow up album Rojus (Designed to Dance) which…well the title gives it away doesn’t it? An infinitely more sweaty, humid record that spoke less to sensuality and more to sheer lust, Rojus (and “Dupree”) wanted to find the backbeat and backbone that the rest of Music for the Uninvited refused. Then came its opposite in 2018 Nothing is Still, which traced more of its lineage to Downtempo and Jazz, it’s most stunning songs like “Movements (Chapter III)” sprawling like Gershwin doing a DJ Kicks session. Here, closer “St. Sinclair” hinted at Nothing is Still’s reverent beauty. The flickering guitar riff at the center of the song melts into a blissful synth and a drone that sounds like a well-tuned A.C. The envelope placed around the billowing sound becomes all encompassing.

While artists in a similar vein delighted in the YouTube age, ripping samples from random videos, it was hard to envision anything but analogue for Vynehall. His knack for expertly layered violin parts cast him back to the grand studios of the ‘70s, the warmth in all of his synths suggesting hundreds of pounds of gear. There are studio mummers, film reels being flicked on, the distant scratch of vinyl, constant reminders that even at the album’s most electric, a human heartbeat at the center. So are we going clubbing or making a cup of tea? Both are equally beautiful to Vynehall.