Tyondai Braxton 'Central Market' (Warp) Released 14/09/09

Does everyone who ever watched it as a nipper remember Fantasia? Revisiting it now, it’s incredible how iconic the opening sequence is: Leopold Stokowski taking the raised conductor’s stand to deliver that hugely dramatic opening blast of Bach’s ‘Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor’. Now imagine how it might turn out if, instead of Stokowski, you were to hand the conducting baton to Battles frontman Tyondai Braxton. Silhouetted against a deep blue background, his huge hair quivers momentarily before he summons the orchestra’s full might for a resounding burst of… chirps and whistles?

It seems like an odd connection to draw given his background, but Braxton’s debut solo album Central Market is an incredibly animated, occasionally even cartoonish listen. Which isn’t to detract from its integrity - Fantasia took some of the most serious and dramatic music ever written, set it to delicately drawn flowers, centaurs and a hippo in a tutu, and still managed to walk away with two Academy Awards. The product of his work with The Wordless Music Orchestra, many of Braxton’s quirks so evident in Battles’ music remain close to the surface here, but set to a cacophony as influenced by Stravinsky and Glass as by punk and math rock. Hardly an easy listen, then. An odd beast and one that requires repeated listens to fully absorb, this record’s riches are revealed slowly and visually.

Central Market is an intensely synaesthetic experience. Opener ‘Opening Bell’ pits a jaunty whistled theme against jarring bass stabs, transporting the opening sequence of Disney’s masterpiece to a wooden toy factory production line. Machines hum and clank and workers hammer and tap as the orchestra cranks out a lilting stop-start rhythm. As the album progresses, perhaps a closer animated parallel to draw would be Spirited Away: lurching like an out-of-control fairground ride, ‘Uffe’s Woodshop’ captures perfectly Hayao Miyazaki’s blend of childlike excitement and sinister intention in manic stabs of brass. Braxton’s distinctive vocal manipulation is in full force – ten-minute centerpiece ‘Platinum Rows’ is an operatic wonder, switching effortlessly between martial fanfares and his heavily effected, wordless yelps.

The central compositional ideas at work here aren’t a million miles away from Braxton’s work with Battles. There’s a devilish sense of humour at work here that could only come from the man who chose to turn his voice into a choir of eunuchs over the glam stomp of ‘Atlas’. Working with an orchestra has merely added more strings to his bow, allowing his considerable imagination and influences free rein. The results are initially confounding, but utterly charming: perhaps the head honchos at Disney ought to consider a commission.