Elysia’s now-classic 2013 digital release, written while homeless in L.A., blossoms on vinyl via Total Stasis, who blessed the world with a 7” cut of her Bound Adam ☆ 2011 single just under a year ago.
The Light That You Gave Me To See You sets another highpoint of Elysia’s ever evolving oeuvre, uniquely consolidating south american folk and modern dance music with conscientious acknowledgement of R&B soul and computer game electronics in raw-but-shiny, collaged, avant-garde arrangements that perhaps best reflect and mediate the flux of the contemporary world better than many other artists in circulation right now.
The fact that it’s been gestating in the digital dimension for three years now, and still feels so acutely fresh compared with the rest of the field right now says a lot about her persistency and unswerving, wide-angled vision, especially considering that isn’t the result of time-dated, scalpelled production, but rather the swirling, headily-layered nature of the composition and its convergent juxtapositions of fidelity and uprooted sources.
For us at least, at times it can feel like one of those strange, sensory overload moments where you’ve got too many browser tabs or windows open at once and can’t tell where the music is coming from, yet it somehow all comes together beautifully, or even those time sitting on the bus thru Moss Side with the bonneted lil old lady playing games on her phone with volume whacked right up whilst surrounded by a polymetric polyphony of Beats by Dre headphone patterns.
A salute to the weird, the in between, the elusive, the ecstatic.
Largely outta sight since 2015, Her Records boss Suda drops the nim and comes up in Hives with a super wide, tumultuous mesh of fiercely disciplined Afro-Latin club rhythms and piquant electronics.
His Hives renders 6 proper, forward designs for modern dance music, combining a razor-sharp, widely-scoped palette of rhythms with pristine, weightless production and the inimitably intimate mastering of label co-owner and engineer Jeremy Cox to bring the Suda sound immersively close and upfront.
In his most substantial offering since The Link EP (2014) he’s achieved a staggering depth of field and breathtaking ‘floor dynamics in each part: whether infusing vocaloid soul into the sweeping epic Inner Monologue, tilting toward the 3rd moon in his vertiginous Faced, or operating right on the limen with the mutant, weightless zither licks and visceral noise grain of Hive - Mind; the production values are devilishly hyperreal in effect.
But it’s certainly not all aesthetic and no substance; in terms of club futureshocks this lot has substance for days - those barking, steel-caped drums on Knotweed are liable to leave the ‘floor needing a tetanus jab, whilst Idiopath will light the dance to National Grid worrying levels.
Cutthroat, boisterous grime instrumentals from two of the scene’s hottest producers.
Together, Boylan & Trends go psycho with the slashing grime-drill dynamics and reversed Hermann strings of Norman Bates set for outright club destruction, whereas on their respective, individual shots Boylan smacks Ol' Dirty Bastard into thee most ratchet ongy bongy riddim called Shimmy, and Trends tears out the rictus funk of Octopus with guttural mid-range stabs.
Inna Babalon is perhaps the strongest indictment of John T. Gast’s eldritch, even medieval-tinged take on UK-bassed dub themes, ‘fessed up for the natty, mystic 5 Gate Temple label.
Firmly pushing a personalised furrow of rolling, stepping drum machines and near-baroque choral arrangements, the follow-up album to Excerpts for Planet Mu is more defined by a consistent, tangible thread of logic than its predecessor, working like the soundtrack to a lo-fi, time-travelling Brit-flick set between modern day Brixton and some stone circle in Cornwall circa the 17th century.
It’s very fair to say he’s in his own world here, working away at a cauldron of bubbling drum machines and oxidised synths to reveal a sort of nostalgic regression for parallel dimensions in eight parts.
We’re totally smitten with this guy’s work, it’s kinda hard to put into words how much he’s nailing a sound we hold so dearly. And if you’re on the same tip, we urge you to check his amazing Blowing Up the Workshop mix-turned-LP if you haven’t already.
As Young Druid, John T. Gast distills his most endearing Midi-eval energies into a suite of LED candle-lit fugues and funky Myrdas, making a sterling follow-up to his UVA_roots_and_destruction mixtape for Richard Sides’ Bus and the INNA BABALON tape in 2016, which was also self-issued on his 5 Gate Temple label.
Concocted from a bank of recordings alchemised on one box and a two-track recorder, Young Druid follows 12 ley-lines of investigation with findings equally applicable to occult soirees and the downtime of amateur archaeologists and tyrannical trap lords alike; conjuring a haul of exquisitely ornate, glyphic hooks, gilded dub grooves and smoked-out chamber themes of a supremely rarified yet earthly air.
They bear a striking resemblance to the bright, poised baroque MIDI orchestrations of Coil as much as King Tubby’s classic digi dubs, splitting the fine difference between K. Leimer’s new age experiments and Roland Young’s mystiphonic experiments or even Wiley and Geneeus’ early grime etudes; essentially divining an obscure, arcane and meditative sense of spirituality that transcends time and place with a broad appeal to armchair and headphone-dwelling mystics of all stripes.
If you need any prompts, check the creamy luft of Young Druid for a start, then the cross-eyed invocation of Fugue and the Jammer-meets-kenji Kawai stepper, Myrda, and Blue’s exquisite trip hop pallor and you should have a good measure of the variety and consistency of mood and vibe therein.
M.E.S.H. projects the rave to new possible planets with Hesaitix. Combining the cinematic gestures of his Piteous Gate  LP and the dynamic drum work of Damaged Merc  in probing new forms, the pivotal PAN artist’s hugely imaginative 2nd album renders a vivid vision of where next for modern, rhythm-driven electronic music.
Hesaitix offers a dreamlike template for off-world raving, turning the back of M.E.S.H.’s eyelids inside-out to reveal a geometric playground of amorphous tessellations diffused and gelled according to a physics that may seem impossible on terra firma, yet entirely plausible in the Berlin-based artist’s noumenal dimensions.
Ossifying fluidly skeletal patterns from a rich pool of far flung rhythmic DNA, he supposes a sort of cyborgian body and AI that could survive under altered conditions, using the club as a laboratory or exercise ground for these fantastic creatures, which just happen to closely resemble you and I. Maybe, even, we are those vessels, and the music is subconsciously programming us as test subjects while he gauges and quantifies our reactions and the efficacy of his code under chaotic conditions?
Whatever, Hesaitix renders a supremely absorbing, alternate world view between the lush, hypernatural ecologies of Nemorum Incola and the extra terrestrial chamber music of Ihnaemiauimx, a world where dancers generate architecture thru telekinetic gesture, as with Mimic and the weightless construction site arrangement of Loop Trip, where intrepid recce’s uncover radioactive dembow mutations such as Search Reveal, and ancient-futurist Antikythera mechanics dictate distinct new measures of meter in the astonishly detailed ballistics of Signal Drum Ride and Diana Triplex.