The Forced Force is Not the True Force

Mr. G has been a fixture of the London underground for thirty years, a house and techno veteran who came up through the Family years and the Phoenix G label, and who has spent that time championing the raw, unpolished end of the genre. The Forced Force is Not the True Force is his first full-length for his own Childhood Records imprint, and it arrives with the confidence of a man with nothing to prove: twelve stripped, jazz-tinged tracks that connect 90s UK deep house to the current raw-tech revival.

There’s a deliberately hand-made feel to the record. Drums sit at the front of the mix, dry and live-sounding, whilst chords and vocal fragments drift in and out of view like smoke. Where much of the raw-tech wave fetishises machine-tooled precision, Mr. G lets the music breathe, leaving the odd imperfection in place and trusting the groove to carry things. The result is house music that sounds played rather than programmed, warmed by analogue texture and the occasional patch of reverb-soaked keys.

Opener Still Life Talkin’ v1 sets the tone, its spoken-word sample and dusty jazzy chords settling over a tough four-to-the-floor pulse. Meditative State (mantra) leans deeper into hypnotism, a looped mantra vocal threading through rolling percussion for six and a half minutes of slow-burn ritual, whilst The Blues lives up to its name with proper blues piano that swings between the drums. Future World is the record’s most spacious moment, its dubby pads hanging in the air long after the bassline has moved on.

The second half holds some of the record’s warmest work. Basement Jam 9 is exactly what its title promises—a raw, live-feeling jam where congas and claps trade phrases over a loose bass. Tropical Hifi glows with warm chords and percussion like sun through blinds, and the reappearance of Meditative State (refelective) reveals the mantra in a duskier light. The two Still Life Talkin’ versions frame the album neatly, and closing track Search rounds things off in four minutes of contemplative calm.

The Forced Force is Not the True Force is not a record that shouts. There are no big drops, no obvious singles—just twelve tracks of soulful, hand-made house from a man who has been doing this longer than most of its current revivalists have been alive. It works best played loud in a dark room, where its quiet confidence and jazz-inflected warmth reveal themselves slowly. In an era of surfaces, that depth is the true force here.