Sign up for our mailing list Real artists creating records on their own terms

sunking

sunking

"BAM BAM" opens sunking's second album for ANTI- Records like the sun breaking through the clouds. Anchored by a groovy low-end—imagine if a walking bassline suddenly started breakdancing—the song moves with a propulsive but laid-back rhythm that sounds like '90s drum & bass, floating from the jazz origins of the duo's past work towards something more electronic and open-ended.

"We were playing these new tunes live, on the same bill as a jazz group, and it started to feel strange. Like, maybe this isn't the scene we're tapped into. It became clear we weren't actually a jazz band."

Bobby Granfelt and Antoine Martel have been playing in bands together since they were 15, but it's only recently that they've really found their groove. Part of Seattle jazz fusion group High Pulp for the better part of a decade, the duo originally branched off into sunking to explore their other loves. From hip-hop to electronic music to indie rock, sunking was their time off to play whatever they wanted and so records like 2022's Smug shot off excitedly in all directions.

Part of that everything-all-at-once feeling comes from the fact that the two members are polar opposites from each other, united more by friendship than taste or background. A producer, drummer and solo artist under the moniker Bobbyy, Granfelt lives in the Highland Park neighborhood of Los Angeles and brings his jazz and hip-hop sensibility to the table while Martel, in addition to being a killer synthesist, is a composer who embraces a more verdant lifestyle in a cabin outside of Seattle, works on films and makes eerie, sci-fi synth music under the name Sous Chef. Put them together, and you've got a duo with a thousand musical interests, seizing on whatever fancy grabs them at that moment before jetting off to the next.

Now a trio with High Pulp member Victory Nguyen joining the band when playing live on modular synth, saxophone and flute, their new album is different. The product of a real plan, instead of just recording on off days, I DON'T LIKE MY TELEPHONE is tight, laser focused, and more representative of who they are as musicians.

Here, Granfelt brings in his jazz background and experimental hip-hop influences like Pink Siifu and Shabazz Palaces, but they're twisted into new shapes as part of Martel's pandemic-era "electronic awakening." His recent obsession with modular synthesis is the bedrock of this album—along with Granfelt's rhythm section, which is processed, reversed and chopped up until they sound more like the drum machines and breakbeats in jungle and house music.

"All our records have started with drums," Granfelt says. "But this time, we started doing more looping and mixing, adding effects, with a more electronic feel than a live feel. With High Pulp, the drums always had to sound very live. With this album, it was more like, "what happens if I layer all this stuff and do some shit that I couldn't even play live?"

It's a new sparkle and sheen that combines the duo's serious musical chops with rich production values and enriches dance music foundations with cheeky solos and musical tangents. Sunking approached I DON'T LIKE MY TELEPHONE as a series of self-contained "micro-compositions," inspired by hip-hop beat tapes from acts like Madlib, and built around Granfelt's drum loops and Martel's new gear. In addition to all those new synths, they were fueled by an increasing love for electronic music artists like Galcher Lustwerk, The Field, and Susumu Yokota, whose 1994 cult classic Acid Mt. Fuji they cite as a particular inspiration.

The result is a record as vibrant as a kaleidoscope, and compact as one too, shuffling through more styles and ideas in neat, three-minute chunks of virtuosity. The jazz influences are still there, especially in tracks like the plaintive "Castle In The Sky," with flute from Nguyen and a slow shuffle that sounds a little like Twin Peaks, or the jaunty "How To Swing," which directly references their fusion tenure, pairing a nimble bassline with a rhythm that sounds like a drummer trying to recreate a vintage Mo' Wax record. Sampling has also taken on a bigger role in their writing, with Granfelt using an Elektron Digitakt drum machine across many tracks, especially “CLOWN CAMP”.

" “How To Swing” is our fun little flip on jazz,” Granfelt explained. “There's still a lot of jazz harmony—we just enjoy those voicings. But we'd play with people on upright basses and saxophones, and it just wasn't what we were doing anymore. Then we'd go play with a punk band or with DJs, and it made more sense. We're trying to straddle those lines."

That means forays into vintage Carl Craig-style Detroit techno on "Circuit City," and old-school IDM on the closer "Larry." The duo's unique harmonics and strong sense of melody—nostalgic but hopeful at the same time—come together for something that sounds like Boards Of Canada or Plaid, if they were powered by an extremely good drummer. "Larry" also highlights the group's unique textures, with sculpted synths that are soft around the edges, filtered percussion and a warm layer of bass that's like Vaseline smeared across the lens. It's softer and warmer than techno but still shares its DNA.

The guest musicians also add a new dimension to the band's sound, pulling it towards R&B, funk, and even trip-hop—electronic music with a live sensibility. "We're huge fans of Flying Lotus and Thundercat, so working with Niki Randa was very special, especially because she hasn't put out a lot of music recently." they say. They met many of the album’s collaborators in their local Los Angele scene, including Angel Deradoorian, a solo artist, member of Decisive Pink and former member of The Dirty Projectors, who collaborated with the band on the track “VELVET ROOM”. "All of the collaborations just fell into place perfectly. [Brainfeeder artist] Salami Rose Joe Louis wasn't even supposed to be on the title song, but she asked if she could do it after hearing the instrumental."

"I DON'T LIKE MY TELEPHONE" is the album's breezy centerpiece, built on lightweight drums that flutter like nervous butterflies in your stomach, while romantic strings in the background gradually give way to a screechy lead gone haywire. Salami Rose Joe Louis’s vocals also add to the song’s sweet but volatile sound, capturing the lovesick feeling that underlines sunking's newfound vulnerability, where feelings take precedence over flashy playing. With "I DON'T LIKE MY TELEPHONE," they're slowing down and making more room for more complex emotions.

"For me, the important line is "I should call you more"—then, "but I don't like my telephone." I feel that," Martel says. "This isn't an album making a statement about society or something. It's just cheeky. Of course, 'fuck my telephone.' It also goes to our love of machines, modular synths, and all that stuff. Our relationship to machines is a big part of this record. All this gear discovery is like our Renaissance. So many of our inspirations are solo electronic music producers. But we're a band. We play live instruments. Sometimes I go see people and I'm like, 'I wish you had a band. I wish you had a drummer.' That's us. We make music inspired by all these electronic producers, but we also play it live."

Artist Bio Press Photo News
Press Releases Contact

Contact Info

See All Videos

"BAM BAM (ft. Takoda)"

See All Recent Press

See All Online Store

See All Other Albums