(I am sitting with my friend Yasemin in a branch of Cafe Nero, in Istanbul’s well-to-do neighbourhood of Levent, ordering a cappuccino for me and a latte for her, discussing the début album release ‘Settle’ by teenage Reigate siblings Disclosure.)
Yasemin: So what did you think?
Sean: I thought it was the worst thing I’d ever heard.
Y: I thought you might say that. But you don’t like electronic music, do you?
S: I like good music, I like music with something to say, of any genre, as long as it doesn’t reek so distinctly of emperor’s new clothes.
Y: What do you mean?
S: A couple of kids with a laptop, protocols and access to fame-hungry ‘soul’ vocalists do not timeless quality make. I listened, I tried, I waited for a, any slightly involving track with any character beyond quality mastering, and it did not come.
Y: You’re just a music snob. Just go with it, stop thinking so much.
S: Go with what? The only people who could possibly dance to this are people who hate music, who for some media-prescribed reason are told liking this kind of thing might get them laid. I can imagine it might be appropriate to browse around Benetton to, but why such nonsense would make the cover of the NME confounds, really.
Y: Ha, showing your age. You’re jealous, because they became successful.
S: I’d say success is pretty relative, and if the price of having a top ten record is sounding like a bad Goldie b-side after too many divorces, failure suddenly appears rather appealing.
Y: If it was up to you, everyone would be listening to Queens of the Stone Age, Tom Waits or Pond.
S: Not at all! The more music the better, just don’t dress up sexless, lifeless, shopping mall effluence as anything cutting edge, necessary or life-enhancing. There is NOTHING THERE. And the record label and PR company know it, and they hate you. And me. I had to listen to Kraftwerk’s ‘Autobahn’ to cleanse myself, how violated I felt.
Y: Who’s paying for these, you or me?
S: We’re both paying.