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Music

Daedelus Makes Mythical Anthems for the Lost and Fearful

The Los Angeles-based mystic shares "Keeps Fires Burning," and briefly chats about his new album 'Labyrinths.'

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Daedelus puts a lot of positivity into the world. The Los Angeles-based producer born Alfred Darlington has spent the last 15 years issuing interstellar starbursts at the center of the constellation of woozy, psychedelically minded producers and parties known to the world as the LA Beat Scene. Over the course of a dozen-plus full-length albums—some solo, some in collaboration with the City of Angeles' finest fellow weirdos—he's created a dizzy dreamworld of gleaming synths, disembodied vocals, and off-kilter drum programming that feels far more homespun, heartwarming, and human than its electronics born construction may suggest.

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Darlington admits that he's constructed his share of "dirges" over the years, but his new album Labyrinths is another stop on his ascent into the light. He flits through a kaleidoscope of moods and genre's over the course of its 12 tracks, but the unifying facet is a striving toward something bigger, higher, and holier than himself. That record's out in full on Friday, October 28, but today he's sharing the Vōx-featuring single "Keeps Fires Burning" which he says offers a "motto" for those who are wandering or lost: "My fears are fearless."

That's the climactic line of Vōx's searching vocal, delivered weightlessly over the simmering sawtooths of Darlington's instrumental, a warm sentiment, something to comfort you as you proceed onward. You can hear the track below alongside a brief interview with Darlington, conducted by email, about the upwardly striving nature of his music, as well as his decision to launch his own label Magical Properties for Labyrinths' release.

Update [October 26, 1:00 pm EST]: Labyrinths is now streaming in full over at Consequence of Sound.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Daedelus puts a lot of positivity into the world. The Los Angeles-based producer born Alfred Darlington has spent the last 15 years issuing interstellar starbursts at the center of the constellation of woozy, psychedelically minded producers and parties known to the world as the LA Beat Scene. Over the course of a dozen-plus full-length albums—some solo, some in collaboration with the City of Angeles' finest fellow weirdos—he's created a dizzy dreamworld of gleaming synths, disembodied vocals, and off-kilter drum programming that feels far more homespun, heartwarming, and human than its electronics born construction may suggest.

Darlington admits that he's constructed his share of "dirges" over the years, but his new album Labyrinths is another stop on his ascent into the light. He flits through a kaleidoscope of moods and genre's over the course of its 12 tracks, but the unifying facet is a striving toward something bigger, higher, and holier than himself. That record's out in full on Friday, October 28, but today he's sharing the Vōx-featuring single "Keeps Fires Burning" which he says offers a "motto" for those who are wandering or lost: "My fears are fearless."

That's the climactic line of Vōx's searching vocal, delivered weightlessly over the simmering sawtooths of Darlington's instrumental, a warm sentiment, something to comfort you as you proceed onward. You can hear the track below alongside a brief interview with Darlington, conducted by email, about the upwardly striving nature of his music, as well as his decision to launch his own label Magical Properties for Labyrinths' release.

Update [October 26, 1:00 pm EST]: Labyrinths is now streaming in full over at Consequence of Sound.

THUMP: You say that Labyrinths is centered on a heartfelt "love of genre," what do you mean by that exactly, a love of dance music?
Daedelus: Electronic music isn't just a computer's output, the synthetic is conjoined with [something more] primal and guttural. I obsess over this stuff, am in awe of [it]. Genre is a GPS. You know within a few feet of where the sound is from, and can then get lost in [that]. I've no right to spin electronic music by some peoples definition, but I've revered electronic music's rebellious past enough to try and continue despite. Let's play house (or hardcore).

You've also placed this music in opposition to EDM culture specifically, what turns you off of that scene?
EDM is a hollow term of endearment for a bro pantomiming atop a DJ booth not DJing... what is that? My LA is all over the place, full of skillful selectors and scratch veterans alike, but mostly audiences who are eager for the unknown. And not just Los Angeles, I see it everywhere, but to different degrees. I've lost faith at times, during top 100 DJ lists or promotion company IPO's, just to go out on tour again and meet another generation of crowds and audiences who're freaking out. Spectacle has it's place but we cannot let the focus leave the people present, they are the reason we assemble.

There was a lot of talk that held you as the center of the so-called "LA beat scene," was that a designation you were comfortable with? How do you relate to that scene now or your own place in it?
I appreciate that words have been given to that ragtag collection of LA, the gravity of a club like Low End Theory, or broadcasting from Dublab, deserves attention. This Beat Scene term is a way to speak of the shadow cast by these, and the talented producers who make up what LA has birthed or brought to the table. I'm honored to take part and play a role. We've all a short term memory, for a last hit or infamous album, but since this Beat Scene keeps on churning out new reinventions of itself it in echoes with Team Supreme and Soulection, and all now hip-hop darlings. Someday the gaze will be elsewhere in the world, but for the longest while it's lingered on LA. That long bit to say I don't know why I'm still here, just grateful for the chance.

You've been pretty prolific over the last 15 years but this is the first time you've released on your own label, why now?
We are in a moment. Not unlike previous moments, but that same cliff we were toeing previously we've now jumped off. Are you better off with a label or a collective? My feeling is the model that I spent most of those 15 years pursuing is morphing, and I'm thrilled that there is possibility. I heard tell of a closing door, as labels became squeezed out of previous life-raft licensing money, and the Rolling Stones's of the world folded in on their navels. But all I see is clusters of energy breathing new life into 120bpm, 160bpm, and all in-between and beyond. The label like a vinyl is a medium, I'd love to see it sustain as a place where new and weird could find home, but it is also a cliff to consider.

Would you consider yourself a generally hopeful person? Part of what's drawn me to your music is what seems to be inherent optimism at the heart of it.
Underdoggedly optimistic. The music doesn't always rise to that occasion; I've a few dirges in my output, but much more often the sounds that called out to me as a gobstruck teenage [kid] in the rave scene have kept me searching for uplift and euphoria.

Your Twitter account sometimes reads abstract life advice, at least for how someone can navigate the world as a music-maker—do you have any wisdom of that nature that you'd want to impart on your past self?
My Twitter betrays my talking-to-oneself. Every slightly mean thing posted is really taking myself to task, and every outward praise is a boomerang back. I'd wish to impart that to all of my previous and future selves: when you hear anything troll or kindness, remember who's saying it and what that speaks of them. Ohm and nothing makes sense like music does. I certainly don't, but hopefully this record makes a measure of [sense].

THUMP: You say that Labyrinths is centered on a heartfelt "love of genre," what do you mean by that exactly, a love of dance music?
Daedelus: Electronic music isn't just a computer's output, the synthetic is conjoined with [something more] primal and guttural. I obsess over this stuff, am in awe of [it]. Genre is a GPS. You know within a few feet of where the sound is from, and can then get lost in [that]. I've no right to spin electronic music by some peoples definition, but I've revered electronic music's rebellious past enough to try and continue despite. Let's play house (or hardcore).

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You've also placed this music in opposition to EDM culture specifically, what turns you off of that scene?
EDM is a hollow term of endearment for a bro pantomiming atop a DJ booth not DJing… what is that? My LA is all over the place, full of skillful selectors and scratch veterans alike, but mostly audiences who are eager for the unknown. And not just Los Angeles, I see it everywhere, but to different degrees. I've lost faith at times, during top 100 DJ lists or promotion company IPO's, just to go out on tour again and meet another generation of crowds and audiences who're freaking out. Spectacle has it's place but we cannot let the focus leave the people present, they are the reason we assemble.

There was a lot of talk that held you as the center of the so-called "LA beat scene," was that a designation you were comfortable with? How do you relate to that scene now or your own place in it?
I appreciate that words have been given to that ragtag collection of LA, the gravity of a club like Low End Theory, or broadcasting from Dublab, deserves attention. This Beat Scene term is a way to speak of the shadow cast by these, and the talented producers who make up what LA has birthed or brought to the table. I'm honored to take part and play a role. We've all a short term memory, for a last hit or infamous album, but since this Beat Scene keeps on churning out new reinventions of itself it in echoes with Team Supreme and Soulection, and all now hip-hop darlings. Someday the gaze will be elsewhere in the world, but for the longest while it's lingered on LA. That long bit to say I don't know why I'm still here, just grateful for the chance.

You've been pretty prolific over the last 15 years but this is the first time you've released on your own label, why now?
We are in a moment. Not unlike previous moments, but that same cliff we were toeing previously we've now jumped off. Are you better off with a label or a collective? My feeling is the model that I spent most of those 15 years pursuing is morphing, and I'm thrilled that there is possibility. I heard tell of a closing door, as labels became squeezed out of previous life-raft licensing money, and the Rolling Stones's of the world folded in on their navels. But all I see is clusters of energy breathing new life into 120bpm, 160bpm, and all in-between and beyond. The label like a vinyl is a medium, I'd love to see it sustain as a place where new and weird could find home, but it is also a cliff to consider.

Would you consider yourself a generally hopeful person? Part of what's drawn me to your music is what seems to be inherent optimism at the heart of it.
Underdoggedly optimistic. The music doesn't always rise to that occasion; I've a few dirges in my output, but much more often the sounds that called out to me as a gobstruck teenage [kid] in the rave scene have kept me searching for uplift and euphoria.

Your Twitter account sometimes reads abstract life advice, at least for how someone can navigate the world as a music-maker—do you have any wisdom of that nature that you'd want to impart on your past self?
My Twitter betrays my talking-to-oneself. Every slightly mean thing posted is really taking myself to task, and every outward praise is a boomerang back. I'd wish to impart that to all of my previous and future selves: when you hear anything troll or kindness, remember who's saying it and what that speaks of them. Ohm and nothing makes sense like music does. I certainly don't, but hopefully this record makes a measure of [sense].