Last summer Francis Hsueh (aka Policy) revisited his childhood neighborhood in Taipei, where his parents settled briefly after fleeing China when the communists seized power in 1949. Despite its legacy of displacement and diaspora, he felt a communion by riding the city's MRT train through hazily remembered suburbs and landscapes: "The sounds of urban life, of people going someplace, made sense no matter who or where I was." This "steady thump of movement" led to the creation of The Republic, an essentially unbroken 50-minute piece of music, with each section named after stations along Taipei's subway. Opening with the airy chords of "Shipai," the album curves through expanses of phased percussion, melancholic organ ("Jiantan"), post-punk basslines, cryptic voice samples ("NTU Hospital"), street ambience, syncopated bells ("Daan Park"), and beyond. But the rhythm never brakes, riding the rails through and past each new cosmopolitan borough, structures ghosting away in the dusk. A uniquely captivating sight-see of sinuous, autobiographical house. Mastered by Alter Echo.
