Hong-Kong born, Bristol-based product gyrofield is one of the most exciting new wave talents in the UK electronic market. Plucking from garage, trance and techno whilst feeling grounded in a core DnB sonic identity, they’ve been picking up steam on the live circuit, with this coming autumn promising some of their biggest shows yet, including a Warehouse Project debut and an appearance at Overmono’s Pure Devotion take-over of The Prospect Building.
The producer has just shared a fresh EP, “These Heavens”, debuting via cherished imprint XL Recordings. The body of work is a four-pronged odyssey of off-kilter glitches, manic and meticulous rhythmic work and trip-inducing synth lines. Fiercely unique in the sound they mould, gyrofield’s oddly endearing approach to the genre stands out strikingly across the impressive new project.
We asked the rising producer to take us through the creation and feeling behind “These Heavens”, track-by-track.
Listen to the EP…
Read gyrofield’s full breakdown…
“Lagrange”
It was a small spot of sunlight, a pocket of refuge from a winter’s depression. When I paired a vocal sample from Chvrches’ song “Death Stranding” with mellow, organic drums and a warm bassline, I knew I found something special, a simple and lasting joy put into drum and bass. That afternoon’s session showed me the backdrop for the rest of the EP, and though I ended up working with Hannah (SOLAH) to write a new vocal in the end I had the vibe pinpointed and it was a very natural exchange. The track does the work of holding up the EP’s theme poignantly – finding simple beauty and pleasure in living our ordinary human lives.
“Occam’s Razor”
During August last year, just before I got contacted by William from XL, I went through a productive period of writing music at 170bpm. Occam’s was one of five tracks I wrote during that time, and the most minimalistic of them all. The title was one I held onto for some time, basically since the idea of the EP emerged. It lived up to the name perfectly with well tuned breakbeats mixed with drum machines, echoing acid plucks, and slick tape processing. I had put in a lot of detail into a deceptively simple package, a progressive track that sticks around in a DJ set. It excited me to do “just a bit too little” in a track, because everything I left in became a little more crucial.
“Vega”
The word “wistful” comes to mind immediately. The track was originally called ‘Bones’ but carried the same feeling, baked into the main theme on bells. ‘Vega’ references the Chinese astronomical tale of the Weaver and the Cowherd, two lovers separated across the Milky Way, only permitted to reunite in the depths of summer. A very sentimental backstory indeed. That being said, the main theme sits atop a steely scaffolding of techno-influenced drums and synths, stung by splashes of cymbals. A technological-naturalistic fiction fit for a lonely summer’s night, accompanied by distant fireflies. It exemplifies the purpose of the EP for me, writing club-oriented music that also had a lot of versatility and musicality.
“Cold Cases”
I wanted to write a tune that looked back in time in an oblique way, and when I did I had no idea if it would even sound good on a rig. The previous tracks featured classic breaks in moderation (“Funky Drummer”, “Kool Is Back”, and “Apache” respectively in each track) but I delved further into the science of breakbeats for “Cold Cases”. The blocky, rigid arrangement was inspired by minimal techno and techstep tracks, and the main attraction was the massive break that cut through every eight bars. I used samples & software drum kits to build up the break and slammed it through far too much compression. This basic setup was embellished with yet more breakbeat samples including the “Think” and “Hot Pants”. The result was a textured and weighty track commanded by brutal drums. It confused me and felt tricky to play in sets, but I learned to love it eventually.
“Closing”
The strength of the record is its power to evoke novel yet familiar feelings within the genre of Jungle and Drum and Bass. It felt like something people could listen to at home, out in nature, or in dark sweaty basement clubs. Most of all, it felt like an inevitability of drum and bass as a genre – becoming a conduit for life’s many experiences, sparking wonder and comfort in the everyday.