Shackleton, “Euphoria Bound” (AD 93, 2026)
Berlin-based producer Sam Shackleton has been on a white-hot run with his collaborations in recent years (particularly the Six Organs of Admittance and Holy Tongue ones), but his solo releases have thus far not ascended to quite the same level for me. Unsurprisingly, this latest release does not fully vanquish my belief that Shackleton is at his best when someone else is handling all of the heavy lifting songcraft-wise, but I do always enjoy his hallucinatory production sorcery and this particular vision is an unusually strong one.
It is also a bit of a challenging one, as Euphoria Bound sounds like Nurse With Wound and Mark Ernestus’ Ndagga Rhythm Force improbably teamed up for a free-form homage to mid-20th century exotica, then handed off the tapes to Shackleton to shape and sharpen into a focused and uncluttered collection of discrete pieces. In more concrete terms, that translates into an album built entirely from cool African percussion motifs and kaleidoscopic psychedelia with little instrumentation to differentiate any individual pieces from one another, but it is certainly quite an immersive and boldly original rabbit hole to plunge down (repeatedly).
The shapeshifting and elusive nature of this album is apparently by design, as Shackleton describes the album as “somewhere between revelation and delusion” and notes that it “moves between states of consciousness where such distinctions of enlightenment or self-deception are erased.” While I would probably roll my eyes if another artist made such a statement, Shackleton’s career genuinely does seem like a spiritual journey towards an expanded consciousness from the woofer-straining fare of his early Skull Disco days.
In essence, Shackleton has taken everything that he learned about beats, bass, and production and re-purposed it towards increasingly unique, unconventional, and psych-minded fare that strains towards something far more transcendent and timeless than the club. That said, there are still some lingering ghosts from Shackleton’s early years such as deep bass and the occasional two-chord reggae pulse that provide a propulsive flow and a grounding foundation to his chopped, flickering, and eclectic soundscapes. In fact, the overall effect sometimes feels like an inspired and more technologically advanced evolution upon the early ‘80s Fourth World aesthetic of Brian Eno’s collaborations with Jon Hassell and David Byrne.
For the most part, the album is essentially a series of serpentine “tribal” percussion motifs burrowing through an endlessly shifting swirl of lysergic electronics, choral snatches, dub-inspired percussion effects, animal noises, and chopped-up traditional music samples. That endlessly shifting nature was initially a bit of a hurdle for me, as endless transformation can be as numbing as no transformation at all if there are no repeating hooks or melodies to grasp, but I also could not shake the nagging suspicion that Shackleton was operating on some kind of sophisticated level that I simply had not caught up to yet. While both of those feelings continue to persist after several listens, I do seem to enjoy this album more and more as certain bits begin to feel like familiar landmarks in a deep jungle of disorienting mindfuckery. It may not be a particularly threatening jungle, but it is a surreal and vast one that sometimes sounds like Martin Denny filtered through the alien sensibility of Rashad Becker (who fittingly makes a behind-the-scenes appearance here in a mastering role).
Given that this entire album feels like a sustained and exotica-scented free fall through Shackleton’s subconsciousness, singling out any individual highlight feels like a bit of a fool’s errand, as the reward lies in the journey itself rather than in any particular destination. That said, there are a few pieces that stand out for one reason or another. For example, “The Soul of Everything” feels like the spiritual heart of the album, as an array of chopped and stuttering samples alludes to the need for “something larger” and laments “all of these miserable people.” Elsewhere, “Crushing Realities” arguably features the album’s strongest hook, as a cool circular vocal melody distends into stuttering tendrils, but it does not repeat very often. It’s a wild track regardless though, as familiar motifs seem to curdle and smear in nightmarish fashion while a nearby lion roars over unpredictably rolling and clattering percussion.
I am tempted to say that “The Dream in Fragments” is yet another highlight, but I suspect I just find it a bit more accessible than the other pieces because there is a sustained groove and some pleasantly shimmering guitar bits, as the parts I love best (gnarled proggy synths and metal chimes) are not significantly more compelling than the best bits from other pieces (discordant ghost jazz, intensifying shaker rhythms, etc.). In short, every single piece is brimming with great ideas and cool motifs, but the catch is that everything blurs together into an extended psychotropic jungle safari. That fundamental ungraspability will likely prevent this album from being as celebrated as some of Shackleton’s other recent triumphs, but I think I have begun to fall in love with it anyway. While I still can’t decide if this is an instant classic, a flawed masterpiece, or just a wildly ambitious and unique outlier, Shackleton was definitely swinging for the fucking fences on this one.
Listen here.
