Song: Kosher Glass
Artist: Kosher Dill Spears
This is the third tune in on Laughing and Crying, the 2013 release by one-man keyboard wizard Kosher Dill Spears, otherwise known as Jesse Levine. I had the good fortune to see this Toronto-based artist performing recently at an east-end art space; his vivid sound effortlessly filled the room. The guy loves analogue, old school keyboard sounds and much of his fluid synth and organ work reminds me of the 70s and early 80s. Even his beats sound like fondly lo-fi throwbacks to the early days of primitive, mechanistic beat machines and ripe Casiotone cheese. In short, it’s groovalicious.
Kosher Glass is, like most cuts on the album, an instrumental. It has an appealing light touch as it gamely puts forward a tentative proposition, as if posing an open-ended question that’s shortly expecting a response - even as the piece subtly modulates and slyly suggests that the answer could well be a heartfelt ‘yes.’ This tightrope ambivalence the track skirts around is the very thing which makes it interesting. Whatever the nature of the question serenely levitating in the psychic mix, Kosher Glass revels in it with glossy, blossoming sheets of reverberating electric piano gliding tectonically over a gently bumping deep, low & rounded bass melody that brings the funk and keeps the whole thing anchored. Then there’s the layers of deliciously offbeat abstraction courtesy random-sounding squeaks, bleeps and unknown emanations - including retro raygun pulses and barking robo-dogs - mysteriously arising and then sinking back into the audio ether.
It’s as if Levine were playfully messing with the listener’s expectations of what his music is all about - and having a gas doing so.