“This musical project has always been kind of simmering in the background of my life”
Simmering is the optimum word here. Sam Marsh, known musically as Billus, produces audio that sounds like a delicious dish bubbling away on a cooktop. Nourishing. Fulfilling. Healing.
Billus’ sound lives in the deep, dub and minimal universes. Mind-massage material from the top shelf. Insect-like textures, sharp percussion and expert synth play working in harmony. Tracks from his brain don’t announce themselves; they just coast. I don’t scuba dive, but whenever I listen to his creations, I imagine myself gliding by an abundance of marine life as they go about their business.
I first heard Billus via his mixtapes on SoundCloud. Each one deliberately titled and intentioned. Some examples below:
The series’ curation isn’t just cute branding; it says a lot about his relationship with the craft. Music, to Sam, is a companion to the ebbs and flows of life, a trusty sidekick, if you will.
One particularly revealing example is “a mixtape suitable for some occasions”, which came about after his sister asked him for recommendations to listen to while she gave birth. The selection moves through Hiroshi Yoshimura, Bill Evans, Miles Davis, Ulla, and a host of ambient Japanese recordings. These sorts of sessions are worlds away from someone simply making DJ mixes to demonstrate their club taste. They stem from an entirely different musical sensibility. Please spend some time with these; they’ll add a little something to whatever situation you find yourself in. If you’re after official releases, look to his debut Shifting Sands via Animalia, Dust In Bloom on Pollinate Records and Lobby Life out through Vessel Records, which dropped earlier this year.
When we connected, Sam had just put the finishing touches on an LP with Julius Steinhoff‘s label, Smallville. I was lucky enough to lend my ears to it pre-release, and it is sounding super crispy. Julius’s seal of approval alone tells you the quality of the music Sam is writing. Wait til you hear the track “Batch”, such a beautiful construction. The long play arrives in early November.
Serendipitously, Sam and I were both dancing beside a large lake in Crato, Portugal back in June, for Waking Life. Sam even got to spin on the Friday afternoon in an undisclosed, sleepy nook of the festival. Fast forward to now, and he is battling the stark temperature difference between Portugal’s blissful summer and the chill of Melbourne winter.
With the initial glow of finishing the album with Smallville now fading, Sam has recently been hit with a flurry of physical and technological misfortune.
“I got sick, then my computer got sick and died. Plus, I’ve been feeling a little lost without access to my music projects or music for listening (my headphones broke too).”
For context, even the emails Sam was sending me were all pranged out, since they came from his infected personal computer. If there’s any silver lining in the lull, it’s that Sam has had spare hours to read, write and tap the keys of his piano.
“Sounds kind of romantic to me, but if I’m being honest, the activity I’ve picked up the most is looking into the fridge knowing full well there is nothing in there.”
For Sam, the impetus to make music stems from a thirst to synthesise elements that he appreciates in his peers’ work. I dig this admission, as it doesn’t shy away from the idea that a lot of what people create is a reimagining of what’s come before them… and that’s totally okay.
He views the tracks he makes as a contribution to a grander group project. One where each release from his community is an attempt to add to the vast body of work they all have a stake in. There is no endpoint or north star other than continuing to create things people resonate with. Stacking bricks to build an inspirational pyramid. I really rock with this mantra.
Time we peer into others adding bricks to the structure that Billus admires.
My favourite remix of all time (I think). I haven’t stopped listening to this regularly since I first heard it 12 years ago, when this kind of music was completely foreign to me. It still fully satisfies a novelty-seeking side. Makes my third eye dance in ways my body doesn’t compute.
I love basically everything Picasso puts out. Always delivering something super danceable, sophisticated and interesting. For me, this one feels like you’re travelling at hyper speed through the ooze of his musical inspirations. Deep, slinky, murky, psychedelic. One to lock in, head down.
Hard to pick a track from Mammo that I don’t love. So many steamers in his catalogue. This one is so sick. Skipping through it feels like there is a lot of change, but it’s one of those lobster-boiling-from-room-temperature tracks where, over 13 minutes, all the elements emerge seamlessly from fluid. Like many of his works, it feels like it fills the whole temperature spectrum, equal parts cold and warm. Very dreamy.
I work in my friend’s sandwich shop, and we play this song about twice a day and have done so for about 200 days. It’s just so suave. Also, I just love the idea of making calls off the car phone. If I had a car, I’d get a car phone. Hope to hear it on an enormous rig one day.
I’ve been having a protracted Frank Zappa moment this year, and I just love this recording so much. I have so much fun listening to and watching it. The synergy between them all on stage gives me chills. George Duke’s (keys) face during his solo says it all. Also, Ruth Underwood delivering the most scorching Marimba performance of all time (surely?).