[In The Woods]
Little is known about Joseph Terruel, even by Matthew Kyle, owner of In The Woods. Discogs lists just one previous release from the Mexican artist. The Hidden Cuts EP sees him offer up two — probably three — well-crafted edits, the likes of which are liable to reignite the endless sampling debate. The first, “Thinkin’ About You,” reworks Changing Faces’ ’97 hit of the same name. The main drawback of the R&B-flavored original was its focus on insipid vocals. Wisely, Terruel has pruned these savagely, leaving a shorter refrain more suited to house. And while this in itself is no more profound, it leaves the vocals to act more so as instrument. In this context they’re fairly decent, garnering a starring breakdown in which backup singers are introduced. As a series of stitched loops rather than a true remix, the original’s reggae-influenced guitar has also survived, along with the suave low-end and dubby piano hits. The additions — overtly metallic hats, emphatic claps — form a rigid spine for these sampled loops to adhere to. The latter are cleverly sculpted to mask the original’s overpowering snares.
The next cut uses a similar technique, neatly stapling old soul loops onto crisper syncopation. In this case, the samples are lifted from The Moments’ 1974 track “Sexy Mama.” Like the slick original, Terruel’s edit rests on sensual vocals and an even tapping of the piano, almost a secondary beat in itself. With much simpler samples than “Thinkin’ About You,” it could conceivably have been monotonous, but for the original’s disco synths coming out to play midway. “The Jazzy Dub Sensation” is almost certainly an edit too; its languorous double bass and flourishes of ivory sound far too genuine to be the work of any computer. As before, however, the lurching beat is likely to have come from that quarter. Slathered with smokey exhalations, the whole thing is effortlessly cool, in that mellow way that only jazz can seem to manage.
Hidden Cuts raises a raft of questions about the practice of recycling, most of them platitudinous. Whatever your view, the sampling employed here is unlikely to be called imaginative or creative. Terruel has taken large chunks of other peoples’ music and dressed them up as original work in the most obvious, straightforward fashion possible. In that context, however, he’s done well. All three are delectable slices of slo-mo house, their surrogate rhythms adroitly integrated with the original structures. He should be afforded some respect as a skilled editor. Time will tell if he deserves the same as a stand-alone producer.
