Seefeel - Succour (Redux) (3LP)

Succour always felt like the moment Seefeel pivoted from the blissed haze of Quique into something more internal, more percussive, and a bit haunted. Succour (Redux), released on Warp on 14 May 2021, restores that feeling with care and gives it more context. The expansion folds in era-appropriate material and lets you sit with the band’s mid 90s headspace, when samplers and drum machines were rubbing shoulders with detuned guitars and tape murk. If you’ve been hunting Seefeel vinyl for years, this is the one that finally makes the case that their Warp period is as essential as their Too Pure beginnings.

What strikes first is how physical this music is. Mark Clifford’s programming does not chase breaks or clever fills. It lands in thuds and pulses that feel lived-in, then lets Sarah Peacock’s voice and treated guitar glow at the edges. On Fracture, the kick sits low like a heartbeat, and the whole piece moves forward in patient steps. Gatha builds air where a chorus might be, Peacock’s syllables turning into a halo of texture, while little percussive flecks flicker around the stereo field. Vex and Utreat lean heavier on rhythm, the bass acting like soft glue as loops gather grit. Nothing here tries to dazzle with speed. It hooks you with persistence and sound design that still feels fresh next to the record’s peers.

Context helps. In 1995, Succour was Seefeel’s first full-length for Warp, a label then synonymous with Autechre and Aphex Twin. The shift made sense, and the Redux makes it easier to hear why. The group were using guitars as raw material for samplers rather than as riff machines, letting feedback and sustain become grains that could be time-stretched or filtered. You can hear that approach across these tracks, where the line between synth and six-string blurs until it disappears. It sits closer to dub and minimal techno in spirit than to shoegaze, though the emotional hit is shared. That is the sweet spot Succour occupies and the reissue underlines it.

The bonus cuts on Redux round out the picture rather than acting like a grab bag. You get sketches and alternate paths that show how fixed the group were on feel and atmosphere, not just on finishing a tidy setlist. It is telling how well the additions slot into a long listen. Sequenced straight through, the set flows like a late bus ride under sodium lights, detail emerging and disappearing as your ears adjust. It is not a nostalgia trip. It is an expanded map of what they were chasing around 1994 and 1995.

Critics have long credited Seefeel with bridging worlds that were meant to stay separate, and the 2021 reissue campaign helped cement that reputation. Publications covering the Redux editions noted how contemporary Succour still sounds, and they are right. The drum programming sits nicely alongside later post-dubstep textures, while the ambient smear anticipates the softer edges of modern experimental pop. You can draw lines out to Broadcast and even to the more patient corners of modern techno, but it is better to let the album do its slow work on your nervous system. It is still a night record, and it still asks you to meet it halfway.

For anyone digging through a Melbourne record store, the tactile appeal of Succour vinyl is obvious. The low end breathes, the loops have grain, and space opens up around the voice in a way digital often flattens. If you buy Seefeel records online, look for this Redux cut before hunting old pressings. It is easier to find and brings together key material from the era in one place. That convenience matters if you are building a shelf of Seefeel albums on vinyl without paying collector’s prices. The same advice holds if you are browsing vinyl records Australia wide. Let the Redux stand in for a long afternoon of Discogs cart wrangling.

If Quique was the afternoon sun on closed eyelids, Succour is the walk home when the street is quiet and the city hums from somewhere you cannot see. The Redux does right by that feeling. It preserves the weight of the beats, keeps the edges soft where they should be, and adds enough archival heft to feel definitive. Put it on after dinner, turn the volume to neighbour-friendly but firm, and let those loops work on the room. This is Seefeel vinyl as it was always meant to be heard, patient and deep, the sort of record that turns background listening into a small private ritual.