There are no full words to be found on these Gold Panda songs, but they still say quite a lot. There are samples of pieces of words, smashed and crunched up vowels that leap out of Derwin Schlecker's concise electronic arrangements. There will be the first consonant of a word or a punctured particle of another, looped and synched in sections and it always comes out at us, like a hand emerging from out of a wishing well, a grave or from the past (which might just be another way of saying that it was coming from the grave).
The truncated parts of speech always suggest to us that there's a human being somewhere inside that glassy hive, wanting to speak, trying to cough up all of that gunk that's been trapped in its throat for a while now. It's a person cocking the needle down onto its grooves to play for others just what it has inside of them. They are the echoes of the subconscious spilling out, into a heated, dancey, club number that makes you feel like you want to get more insightful than you've been so far today, or so far this year.
Gold Panda music seems to come from a more organic place than those ports of computer creativity, where everything's created in a bubble, with the lone objective of dropping the beats at appropriate times and manipulating emotions based on something a little more scientific and robotic. Schlecker, from Chelmsford, Essex, makes us feel like there are real people squeezing themselves out of his chillcore floorboards and acting like the fans stuck into his cathedral ceilings.