I don’t get to dance much in Sydney anymore, but when I do, it’s in my kitchen. Having finally wrestled a wireless speaker back from the brink of death, I’ve relished the opportunity to be able to start the day with a proper banger that others enjoy grooving to at night. It’s any man’s guess what I’ll play next to the party on one, but one sure bet is this exquisite jam from Lindstrøm. It’s a twirling, unfurling, rainbow burst of a song that’s been getting a proper thrashing – and been giving my legs a proper workout. Lindstrøm is one of those sneaky Scandinavians who’s been putting out this kind of gem for years, albeit with more of an underground vibe than some of his peers. He’s also one for the collectors, changing his moniker, collaborating with others, dropping in and out of special mixes and compilations and generally making himself known as a tastemaker in a live sense as much as an artist in the booth. It should come as no surprise, however, that ‘Closing Shot’, released just in time for the European summer, straddles this divide with ease. It is the moment that Lindstrøm goes Todd Terje for the second or third time in his career; crossing over to a general mass for a brief but beautiful window of glorious sunshine.
I’ve had my fair share of wonderfully long songs this past year, from Carseat Headrest to Kurt Vile, and at nearly 9 minutes, ‘Closing Shot’ is a contender for Best Big Track of 2016. This is partly because it squeezes life out of every goddamn second, sparing nothing. Put your headphones on and train your ears, because on this tune, the sound comes from everywhere. Built on the base of a clave rhythm straightened out into disco, it pulls in rhythmic layers with the grace of dancer before that syncopated, offbeat bass line drops at the two minute mark. And what a fantastic thing it is to behold; so rubbery that is bends between notes like an elastic band twanging. Sonic elements fade in and out, perfectly mixed so that each section refocuses your attention onto a new sound source. There is nothing heavy-handed about it, and it takes a good few listens to realise the sort of intricate tapestry that has been woven seemingly out of nothing.
There is growth and there is maturation. This song matures. I have listened to enough wine experts try and talk my ear off to know what they mean when they say that word; a finished product in which you can smell and taste its origins and feel its development swirling around in your head. By the five minute mark, this song has become a beast, with more shining glissandos than Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Everywhere’ and bright, horn-soaked synth stabs anchoring its middle. Lindstrøm effectively steers his creation headlong into the wind and then safely brings it back to shore, stripping the song of all of its parts until it tails off almost exactly how it started, with nothing but a persistent beat. Granted, it’s easier to do this when you’re in 4/4, but that doesn’t mean anybody actually tries that often. It’s a masterpiece of craft that also happens to go well with moonwalks and Vegemite toast.
Someone put that on the press release.