Shlohmo’s ‘Dark Red,’ a Track-by-Track Review

Henry Laufer, the L.A.-based electronic producer better known as Shlohmo, has a gift for harnessing sonic decay. The founder of the WeDidIt Collective, a label and crew that also includes RL Grime, Groundislava and Ryan Hemsworth, Laufer forged a classic of L.A.’s storied “beat scene” four years ago with the haunted textures and spiderweb funk of his debut album, Bad Vibes. Since then, he’s released a handful of EPs, including No More, his outstanding 2014 collaboration with R&B singer Jeremih.

Now Laufer is back with Dark Red, an even more brutal album in which he cranks up the corrosion and throws down dense basslines and thick IDM beats. The album, recorded during a particularly hard time in Laufer’s life, can be an exhausting listen—the hooks mournful, the textures irremediably scorched. But in usual Shlohmo fashion, the music is also redemptive in nature, blazing a path through the darker detours.

Here, a track-by-track review.

“Ten Days of Falling”

Setting a dark tone right away, “Ten Days of Falling” opens on an eerie, minor-key synth figure ripped straight out of an old John Carpenter thriller, with some harsh tape hiss to boot. Soon, it carries into blown-out bass and corroded synths, and meanwhile, a mysterious electronic sound wiggles and shakes in the background. “What the hell is that thing?” I wonder. I look out my bedroom window, and the sun is shining. Seriously, it’s ridiculous how nice it is outside. But I still feel a twinge of unease.

“Meet Ur Maker”

On Bad Vibes, Shlohmo took a subdued approach; with some tracks you might not have even noticed how harsh the vibes were until you read the song titles. On “Meet Ur Maker,” however, he dives right in, building a sci-fi nightmare world of hissing jungle beats and swelling, synthesized storm clouds. This could be the theme to The Matrix if Neo didn’t win in the end but instead got tossed into an acid bath by Agent Smith. I’m into it.

“Buried”

This track is like music as an exposed wound. Weary and wandering synths give way to gentle guitar strums, and then comes the ugliest beat I’ve heard so far this year—angry bashing on some truly fucked-up-sounding crash cymbals, like someone smashing their fists against a wall. But then the snare comes in, and it’s like, “Ooh, OK.” Suddenly it’s all confidence and determination, healing by way of forward motion. Maybe life isn’t totally fucked after all, yeah?

“Emerge From Smoke”

As the title suggests, “Emerge From Smoke” lets some of the darkness clear away. Not all; some. The synths are still totally frayed at the edges, the kick drum beaten and bruised. But the bright synth loops send out faint glimmers of positivity. Then again, maybe it’s just a clever ruse. I’m at home, listening while lying in the comfort of my bed; but by the guitar solo climax, I suddenly think of what it’d be like to be inside a cremation oven when the doors have locked shut.

“Slow Descent”

Everything in “Slow Descent” is moving in a different direction. The watery synth makes me feel like I’m drowning. Meanwhile, a snare and hi-hat take off like a hyperactive Aphex Twin beat circa Drukqs. There are rays of electronic sun beaming down, but then there’s a guitar line wandering in the background like a broken soldier. Laufer has alluded to going through a sad, confusing period while making this album—“a bunch of funerals and being in hospitals a lot. Just fuckin’ life”—and now the music gives my own mind a taste of swirling inner turmoil.

“Apathy”

At this point, Dark Red is becoming a tough ride to endure. “Apathy” is anchored by a sample that resembles a wailing angel screaming from the depths of purgatory. On top of that, we get something resembling a voice, as if the consonants have been sliced out. Am I going nuts? Maybe I’m going nuts. An ice cream truck is jingling outside my window. Dude, I think I need a break.

“Relentless”

OK, I’m back! Now I’m pouring Drano down my clogged-up sink. An acrid stench fills the bathroom, and “Relentless” plays in my ears as I watch the sickly liquid slowly crawl down the drain and into the plumbing below. The track’s dribbling synth and wailing loop offer an oddly parallel soundtrack, and it occurs to me that decay comes with its own kind of beauty and satisfaction. Sometimes you need to break something down to clear a path—or, indeed, to make a dope track.

“Ditch”

The murky textures and subdued melodics on this remind me of the witch house producer Balam Acab. Whatever happened to him, anyway? Huh. A piano-style refrain peeks through the murk, and there’s a gentle swing in the beat. Shlohmo always has great snares, but this one especially so. It’s solid but also webby and maybe a little wet, like a bird’s nest.

“Remains”

Shlohmo is definitely better at working with texture and rhythm than he is with melody. At times, the melodic synth lines on this album just feel too aimless and noncommittal. Sonically, though, “Remains” might be this album’s most powerful track. Moving with the grace of a funeral procession, it opens on an elegant gong figure and eventually lets metallic, harmonic overtones take over; if I were listening to this on a big enough sound system, I could imagine the intensity getting so overwhelming that I might just crack a tear.

“Fading”

It’s interesting this track is called “Fading,” because I feel like the mood is the opposite. Despite the damaged textures and clipped vocal parts, the jungle beat just keeps pumping forward. Changing, shifting, skittering. Eventually, the beat mellows and the song fades out, but not in a depressing way. There’s more a sense of having overcome something—knowing you’ve gone through hell, but being cool with that and opting to press forward. A classic Shlohmo tune, indeed.

“Beams”

I’m lying back down now, under the covers, buds plugged in my ears, and I keep imagining my bed as a ship cruising through some murky underworld. Now the BPM is picking up; a Squarepusher-style beat is hitting spastically against a weird wind chime sample. But I’m supported by the bass—the chassis of my vessel dense, steady, buzzing within the atmosphere. In a way, it’s the keystone of “Beams,” the force that lets the album close out in wounded triumph.

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