“I was unable to work and withdrew from life in general.” “On a personal level, things gradually went south and I had a breakdown of sorts,” he wrote. He had started writing that music when he was a teen-ager, and he’d never had the chance to present it properly, and the leak was all that anyone asked him about for years. He had been frustrated by speculation that he’d orchestrated the leak to generate hype, and by people who’d told him he should keep things ambiguous. “I felt pretty alone with everything, like no-one else seemed to view the situation in the same way I did: as a catastrophe,” he wrote. Paul released a long accompanying statement, explaining that the leak had come from a misplaced burned CD, and that he had found the experience devastating. In 2019, XL formally released the rogue upload from 2013 as an album titled “Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones).” The package included two new songs, “Do You Love Her Now” and “He”-the only finished tracks Paul has put out to date. real-estate magazine, as a “growing collective of musicians, artists, and technologists.” (The Paul brothers had leased a building in London for their venture, hence the story in Property Week.) Paul, who is also a musician and producer, launched a project called the Paul Institute, which, in 2017, was described by Property Week, a U.K.
In 2015, Lorde tweeted, “Someone should start a jai paul imitation fund and donate every time an indie pop bro puts a song out that rips him #justice.” Two years later, “Homemade Dynamite,” one of the standout songs on Lorde’s sophomore album, featured a chorus interlude that recalled Paul so vividly that people wondered if he had secretly worked on the track. But his influence continued to spread: if an electronic track blew up on SoundCloud anytime in the mid-twenty-tens, it was probably trying to sound at least a little like Jai Paul. And, after the leak, he retreated entirely. The public still knew almost nothing about him. Paul’s idiosyncratic, tunnelling instincts conjured J Dilla, Daft Punk, D’Angelo, Prince he was in the source code. I listened to track seven-a cover of Jennifer Paige’s bubblegum-pop song “Crush,” which Paul had turned into something skittering, gasping, and bruised-over and over. It was received as such anyway, and was celebrated-Pitchfork listed it at No. They were also clearly demos, with inconsistent sound quality, and the collection didn’t sound complete or sequenced they were quickly scrubbed from Bandcamp, and Paul posted his first known tweet, explaining that he hadn’t uploaded the music.
#Plaaying the train on snare series
The following year, a series of untitled Paul tracks appeared on the independent music-purchasing Web site Bandcamp. He released a second demo, in 2012, a throbbing, yearning track called “Jasmine.” Certain sonic signatures came into focus: Paul had a distinctive way of mixing, abruptly vacuuming the air out of his tracks and making sounds arrive like fog rolling across an ocean there was a muscular use of silence. He considered himself “kind of a hippie.” Fans learned that he didn’t own an iPod, still listened to the music he liked as a kid, and had turned down major-label offers. Paul signed to the indie label XL, and gave his first and only interview, to Dazed, in 2011. Zane Lowe named “BTSTU” the Hottest Record in the World.
tastemaker radio Drake and Beyoncé both sampled it. “I know I’ve been gone a long time, but / I’m back and I want what is mine,” the refrain went. The song built to something mournful, gorgeous, and overwhelming. Then came a sweet, offhand falsetto loop, a phrase that was sung like a person trying to dig up a memory then a kick drum, a snare, a full-body synth shudder. The demo began so quietly that you had to turn the volume up, just to hear static. Around that time, an Indian British musician named Jai Paul, from the suburban neighborhood of Rayners Lane, in northwest London, uploaded an old demo to MySpace titled “BTSTU.” He was nineteen, maybe twenty. In 2009, the Internet was not yet algorithmically consolidated it still seemed like a vast landscape of oddly shaped rocks that you could turn over to find something new.
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