Since 2013’s Immunity, Jon Hopkins has been busy. Not in terms of a torrent of creative outpourings, the resistance of which (despite our apparently insatiable appetite for cultural consumption) can often be a good thing – over saturation does more harm than good in my book. No, instead he has been busy preparing himself physically, mentally, and emotionally for existence. Freezing baths, desert treks, and controlled breathing exercises have all been enlisted to help rejuvenate his weary frame after years of touring and performing whilst hunched over a laptop screen. And then there has been his piqued interest in naturally occurring psychedelics. Use of magic mushrooms has undoubtedly informed the timbre, structure, and intent ingrained in Singularity, to the point that the album is intended to be ingested in one hour long sitting. With this in mind, I’ll follow the sonic journey as envisaged.
The title track gets things under way with distorted pulses sluicing into surging drones of heart-wrenching magnitude. A patient and familiar tone thuds into existence. Hopkins’s trademark pads oscillate all around. Up and down. Peaking ambience then causes this to ascend towards the heavens as hi-hat and bass lines build to a head. That’s before the thump of a kick drum comes in so much heavier than before. The sheer weight of it squeezing your brain. It culminates in a rocket twirling up through the clouds. Inflicting tooth-splintering G forces upon the listener until it finally bursts through the exosphere and out into the drifting calm of ‘Emerald Rush’ – a twittering of electronic tremors that soothe and bolster as we look back upon the world turning away. An urgency soon takes over these impish bleeps as they become gripped by a punched rhythm, shunting necessity into focus. Spines recoil and snap in time with the persistent whump. Ghostly vocals seduce us with their siren-like promises. The rocks upon which we find ourselves splayed, submitting to a euphoric change of gear however, are heavenly, slammed with serotonin and narcotically numinous. This is the rush of understanding that germinates into the Starchild in 2001.
‘Neon Pattern Drum’ deconstructs drums from erratic reversed snaps into morphing glitches that twist and writhe around the central bass kick. A musical Maypole dance by sprites full of mischief and wonder. Drippings of gold flash by. This feels like holding on to separating chain links on a fairground ride that is spinning faster and faster, the centrifugal force sending us further out, right to the edge of the parabola. It starts to slow down. Returning those screams of fright back into chuckles of delight.
Robotic certainty is drawn to the fore on ‘Everything Connected’. Atmospheric synths resurrect earlier palettes and the full bodied rhapsodic break out is almost tangible. This track, like our unified souls, rises as if it is a magnificent, shimmering beast. Hopkins is gazing skyward on almost every cut here. There is a self being considered. But it is a self that is unequivocally part of a greater “us”. On Immunity the tracks sounded almost dystopian. They had an awareness of the futility of our struggles. They were apocalyptic. But on Singularity Jon Hopkins has chosen a brighter path. Shunning the angst and paranoia of modern worry, he isn’t burying his head in the sand and ignoring the tumult, he is simply marvelling at the opportunities for joy, empathetic connections, and an astonishing capacity for peace. All lifted, despite our seemingly rabid world, from a deep inner well.
‘Feel First Life’ glows with the hope of being. It is Malickian in its transcendent beauty. Gentle piano feeds into vocals that dare atheists to deny the existence of angels. ‘C O S M’, however, feels like it is replicating the expanding consciousness of a new born child. Wild electronic murmurs and shifts occur sporadically. Slowly making sense of their surroundings and their relationship to one another. A coherence emerges. Lines link together. Ambience, both breathy and droned, envelopes it all, scooping this all up into a cavernous low-end wobble that tries to instil order and direction. The bass guides and teaches, showing the way both physically and cerebrally.
On ‘Echo Dissolve’ a series of spaced out piano parts that resonate and reverberate out into a cold unknown are produced. A melancholy weight sits here as if knowing that this all takes place beyond the rubicon. ‘Luminous Beings’, however, starts with seemingly alien distortions. Industrial sounds that appear reptilian. It’s almost fleshy. This soon diffuses into scratchy skitters that phase across minds. All the while drums that creak, trip, and fade manage to maintain a relentless pace. This is all suggestive of a calm journey though unique, unfamiliar, and yet somehow safe terrain. Imagine burning through the DNA-spliced forests of Alex Garland’s Annihilation with the roof down. There might even be a soft mist caught upon the breeze. And yet it is still eerie. Still unsettling. Reassurances cease to convince despite the bright, golden skies refracting into red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. And part of the reason for this fear is because it becomes abundantly clear that every little droplet has your eyes. And it is this terrifying wonder that pierces the piano which then bleeds into the final track, ‘Recovery’.
‘Recovery’ is laced with a padded mechanical thunk which accompanies every pressed key, lending a feeling of an apparitions presence. Thoughts of mimicry or attempted communication emerge as these disconsolate notes ring out. But there is no worry here. Just an earthly acceptance. And it is with that deep acceptance that Singularity reveals its wild journey’s purpose.
