At the first listen I was struggling to find a reason to listen to more than the first 30 seconds. I prematurely assumed this would be yet another faceless man with a synthesizer with a pretty girl singing over the top. Not the most original or exciting of prospects. Plus I had Christmas presents to wrap. Once I got over myself and decided to listen to the rest of the song, I found myself giving in to its glow stick hungry charms.
It’s most seductive quality is its gradual momentum and ascension, slowly and steadily building up to what you expect to be the biggest drop this side of Niagara. The bass drum kicks in a steady rhythm whilst the flashes and echoes of synths rebound off each other like an erratic firework display, the intensity increasing with every bar. The climax however is strangely calming. Singer Little Bear’s voice coos over the end of the world euphoria below, adding a nice ethereal quality to the song. The drop never really comes, which is to it’s advantage as it makes it different to 99.9999% of dance tracks. It lingers longer in your mind, seducing you back subtly rather than abruptly demanding your attention. It’s a little bit addictive.
Droplet Affection has deliberately gone after the atmosphere of a sunrise rave on an Ibizian beach, and it has been executed with impressive accuracy. It sounds exactly like it should, which is perhaps to its detriment musically as it’s been done a fair few times before. But maybe this track doesn’t need to change the musical landscape of house or dance. In a year when ubiquitous nile of shit that was LMFAO’s ‘Party Rock Anthem’ became a best selling single, having our expectation set a little lower isn’t necessarily such a bad thing. Ursa Minor have started to put back a heart and soul into dance music and for now, that will do.