When sound systems in West Bengal start playing music, the bass is so powerful that pooled water appears to sizzle like oil. Smartphone footage of the contraptions in action sometimes appears distorted from the force of the sound waves. The sound systems are made of brightly colored speakers and amps, originally meant for religious ceremonies or political gatherings, that have been tied together into mobile structures that loom two or three stories high. These systems, or “boxes,” are the centerpiece of “soundcheck” battles, where the most powerful sound system wins. They’re exciting but overwhelming affairs in which the sheer volume of the music threatens to destroy the apparatus broadcasting it.
These behemoth, screaming structures captivated Brooklyn-based electronic musicians Baalti when they were working on their new EP, Mela, which means “festival” in Hindi. Their previous EP, 2023’s Better Together, was a set of melodic club tracks that foregrounded vocal samples from Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi songs. But while studying dek bass, the music made for West Bengal sound systems, the extremity and physicality of the sound compelled them.
While working on Mela, Baalti focused less on melody or narrative. Instead, the four songs on their new EP feel both sculptural and kinetic, like a conveyor belt of molten glass being blown into glistening, abstract shapes in double time. Vocal samples are spliced and sped into blips that uncoil like slinkies. Basslines stretch out into bellowing groans, and drum beats hurtle across the mix like racehorses. It’s the most compelling project Baalti have made yet—a rowdy, celebratory collection of UK bass tracks that channel the intensity of the soundcheck battle into a never-ending party.
Much of the sound design ties Mela’s tracks to their Indian festival origins. Throughout the EP, Baalti foreground dhol percussion—a double-headed folk drum typical in North Indian outdoor celebrations. On “Overbit,” the dhol’s rattling triplet rhythm sets the song in motion. A sound system bass is layered with a pulse that thumps like a heartbeat, a pirouetting vocal sample, and a chirping synth, establishing a flow that’s as hectic as it is propulsive. Later, slippery synth droplets are interrupted by what sound like metal sticks banging clumsily. It’s an unexpected but intriguing interruption, like a friend knocking at your door at midnight to present you with a bouquet of flowers.
The triplet-driven “Loose Leaf” splices in audio from a video of someone hyping up the DJ in a small-scale soundcheck. The vocal sample is buoyed by a glitzy mix of laser synths similar to the ones you might find on a DJ Dinu track, a gurgling bassline, and more dhol. They also make ample use of field recordings from the region; the references to West Bengal give the music a grounding sense of physicality, no matter how frenzied it gets.
