John Carroll Kirby - Dance Ancestral (LP)

John Carroll Kirby has a way of making keys feel like living things, and Dance Ancestral catches that gift in a compact, quietly dazzling frame. Released in 2022 on Stones Throw Records, it lands right between the ensemble glow of Septet from 2021 and the sunburned travelogue of Blowout in 2023. The timing matters. By this point Kirby had sharpened two sides of his craft, the communal jazz instincts and the solitary producer’s ear, and this record splits the difference with a gentle pulse that coaxes you to move without ever shouting for attention.

Kirby is a Los Angeles keyboardist and producer with deep roots in the scene. His fingerprints are on records by Solange and Eddie Chacon, and he scored the animated feature Cryptozoo in 2021, which hints at his skill for world‑building. Dance Ancestral pulls that world closer. You get the soft shimmer of Rhodes and analog synths, the patter of hand percussion, and bass lines that bob like a swimmer’s head above warm water. It is graceful music, built for small rooms and late afternoons, the kind of record that holds a conversation with you instead of talking over you.

The title sets an intention. Kirby aims these pieces at the body as much as the mind, and he organizes them with a DJ’s sense of energy. The first songs drift in on open chords and woodsy textures, then the grooves tighten, almost like a breath finding a steadier pace. He loves space and negative room, so even when the rhythm locks, you can hear air moving around each part. Nothing feels overworked. That light touch is a Stones Throw hallmark, and it suits him. He is never chasing a retro pose. He folds Balearic warmth, fourth‑world atmosphere, and LA jazz ease into something that feels present tense.

It also plays beautifully as an album. In an era designed for shuffled playlists, Dance Ancestral rewards a full spin. Side A brings you closer, side B lets you drift a bit, and together they trace a small arc that feels like remembering a dream on a bus ride home. That flow is why the Dance Ancestral vinyl has become a staff‑recommend sort of title in my local shops. If you keep an eye on the racks for John Carroll Kirby vinyl, this is the one I hand to friends who like their groove music soft‑spoken and slightly mystical.

Kirby’s melodies are simple on the surface, but they stick. He likes modal shapes, circular lines that turn over like worry stones. A synth will answer a piano phrase with a glassy curl, then a ripple of percussion nudges the pattern forward. You can hear the producer in him loving those micro‑details, the way a shaker sits just off center, the way a chord is voiced so the top note glints for a second. Yet he resists clutter. Even at its most layered, the record gives you one thing to follow at a time. That clarity makes the whole thing feel generous.

Context helps. After Septet’s live‑room interplay, Kirby pares the band back here and lets the electronics do more of the talking. Before the travelogue flavors of Blowout, he keeps the palette leaner and more interior. It reads like a small pivot, and it holds up. The music press picked up on that shift, noting how it slips between ambient drift and dancer’s poise without losing its center. Fans have treated it as a grower, the kind of album you put on as background and then realize three tracks later you have stopped what you were doing just to listen.

If you hunt for John Carroll Kirby albums on vinyl, this slot in the discography makes a lot of sense on the shelf, right next to the label’s other modern mellow classics. Stones Throw pressed it with care, and it remains easy to find, so if you plan to buy John Carroll Kirby records online you will not be chasing a ghost. I have even seen a few tidy copies pop up in a Melbourne record store, which makes sense given how well this sound lines up with the Balearic‑leaning corners of vinyl records Australia shoppers tend to favor.

Dance Ancestral feels modest in scale, and that is part of its charm. It is a room you want to sit in. Kirby keeps the tempo steady, the harmonies luminous, and the mood quietly celebratory. Put it on in the late light, let the first rhythm find your shoulders, and do not be surprised if it becomes the record you reach for when you want to move without leaving the couch.