Shire Tea - Tomorrow's People (LP)

Chris Davids has always had a knack for mood. As one half of Maribou State he built dusky, human dance music that worked in clubs and on long drives. Under his solo alias Shire T he lets that instinct sprint. Tomorrow’s People arrived on 20 August 2021 via Counter Records, the Ninja Tune imprint that has long housed his work, and it plays like a pressure valve released after months of silent dancefloors. You can hear the impatience in the drums, the joy in the chopped vocals, the sense that this was made for sweat and strobe rather than the polite head-nod of a sofa listen.

What hits first is the pace. Where Maribou State lean into widescreen warmth, Shire T goes for snap and movement. The palette is classic UK, but it never feels like a museum tour. Breaks tumble and realign, basslines bounce with that garage lilt, and short vocal phrases flicker like neon signage rather than big sing-along hooks. It is club music with heart, built from tactile sounds and small imperfections that give it colour. You can picture Davids in a tight home setup, trying ideas fast, trusting feel over fuss, then pushing the faders until the room starts to shake.

The record landed at a very specific moment in 2021. British clubs were blinking back to life and the air felt charged. Tomorrow’s People carries that post-lockout optimism without slipping into nostalgia. There are nods to jungle and early house, sure, but the arrangements stay nimble. Tracks open with a drum figure or a clipped sample, then blossom into something bigger by the three-minute mark, always with an eye on the floor. When the low end swells, it does so with intent. When the keys arrive, they are there to lift, not to linger.

Davids has said before that Shire T was an outlet for his more dancefloor-first ideas, and the distinction rings true here. The melodies still have that Maribou State sentimentality, just condensed into sharper phrases. The sequencing is smart too. He understands the arc of a night, so the album breathes like a DJ set, with bursts of energy and short breathers that feel earned. No meandering interludes, no bloat, just twelve tidy cuts that know their job. It is the rare solo pivot that adds context to the parent project rather than competing with it.

On good speakers the production detail really sings. Percussion is crisp without getting brittle. The bass sits warm and round, hugging the kick in a way that flatters small rooms and big systems alike. The vinyl cut is worth talking about as well. Tomorrow’s People vinyl has a lovely sense of space, and it handles the busy midrange that can make digital versions of this style feel crowded. If you collect Shire T albums on vinyl, this one earns its shelf space straight away. It is the record you pull when friends drop by and you want the living room to turn into a little afters.

There is also a gentle sense of community threaded through the album. Davids came up in a scene built on small parties, record shops and friends who swap stems and ideas. You can feel that DIY glue here. The samples feel like crate finds, the edits feel like a DJ thinking about how a mix might pop in the second hour. It is a studio album, but it carries the energy of a booth shared with mates. That spirit matters in 2021, and it still matters now.

If you are crate-digging, the Shire T vinyl pressing on Counter is easy to recommend. It is the kind of record you can buy unheard and feel safe about, a handy litmus test for whether a system is tuned and a room is ready. If you prefer to buy Shire T records online, most good shops will still have copies, and your local Melbourne record store might just file it next to Maribou State to help you find it. For folks in vinyl records Australia circles, it sits neatly alongside UK dance staples from the last decade, with enough personality to stand out.

Tomorrow’s People is a debut that arrives fully formed, not as a side hustle but as a statement. It is lean, physical and warm, and it rewards both a club soundsystem and a late-night headphone walk. File it under reliable floor fuel with a human pulse, and if you can, grab the Shire T vinyl before it quietly disappears.