Bleep

John Glacier is a comparatively new figure on the scene, but some have been swift to draw comparisons with one of London’s most revered auteurs, Dean Blunt. Listening to “SHILOH: Lost For Words” and that rings true; this is music of elite quality. Across the 25-minute mixtape/album, Glacier — not her real name, incidentally, but maybe that was a given — rides over inspired production by the similarly star-bound Vegyn, riffing on everything from slave rebellions to digital ghosting on flow-switching raps as nonlinear and irregular as the thoughts that tumble from any of our brains. As a title, “Lost For Words” is a red herring.

Even if Glacier hadn’t appeared on last year’s Babyfather cut ‘MANNA’, and featured as part of Blunt’s World Music takeover at Corsica Studios, the link to Dean Blunt may still feel explicit. A shrouded Hackney poet, emerging from the witching-hour shadows with hazy couplets and high-definition beats? Check. Music which seems to float free of genre and format strictures? Check. Fans debating that their Soundcloud loosies are some of their best material? Check. Aesthetically, the glittery calligraphy of “SHILOH: Lost For Words”’s cover art is immediately reminiscent of rhinestone-embroidered clothing and similar detritus of the long 2000s too, a zone which Dean Blunt freely roams through.

Lyrically, though, they diverge sharply. Glacier’s writing is less oblique and more personal. Her bars resemble the kind of nocturnal free-associating we all do to while away the hours, but the production elevates this record into something distinct. ‘Boozy’ accentuates this interplay, containing a parallax effect when contrasting between Glacier’s demo reel and more polished takes — if polish can even be the operative word. It adds a sharp edge at any rate. ‘Icing’’s beat, which calls back to the rippling harp and car-door-slamming percussion of turn-of-the-century R&B favoured by superproducers like Timbaland and Darkchild masks the agoraphobia of social environments. The agitation of ‘Cryptomnesia’ is more pronounced, especially as Glacier’s vocal register shifts and static buzzes around the margins.

Glacier, who memorably informed The Face this summer that she “likes people who have a cat-like energy”, pulls a neat trick of opening up while keeping her studious and steadfast distance. After a few chance meetings at parties and galleries, Vegyn opened his studio to Glacier and let her feel out an individual sound. Although the production is helmed by Vegyn in an executive capacity, he is flanked by Tn_49, Psychedelic Ensemble, and Holly. Collectively they ensure that no matter how much of a keyhole look we get into the artist’s internal monologue, the lens stays smeared in vaseline to some degree.

The meld of Vegyn & co’s beats and Glacier’s intimate poetry spotlights a London unheard and unseen. After a lot of murk, they save the best cut for last, like sun slowly cracking over the dawn sky. “SHILOH”’s closer, ‘No More Left Like It’s Death’, is tender and plaintive, with chill-inducing keys and a cool bassline, a tantalising and relatively clear-eyed grace note. It’s a signal of where John Glacier might go next. But the fun part of following her is, at this formative stage it’s anyone’s guess.