Yorkshire electrobot Tom Knapp aka SDEM coughs up his 1st 12” of cracky dancefloor complexity on CPU
Unavoidably comparable to Autechre’s nervy tics and the asymmetric ructions of Dalglish, ‘Index Hole’ spurts brittle, overpronating bones and knotted tendons at every angle, rolling out form the hyperstep of ‘Arc Rail’ to crooked hip hop-tyle rhythmic anticipations of ‘BX16’ on the front, then wrestling with sheared metallic textures and gut-twysting bass in ‘Mitherer’, and yoking back to a clunky electro style shades away from his early Skams with Mortal + Chemist.
Hyperactive, hardcore dance music from Pittsburgh's W00dy, rushing at 160bpm in 4 fibrillating blends of footwork, jungle, gabber and styles as-yet-unnamed.
Packing as much into each fractious bar as possible, W00dy treads the finest line between chaos and control in a breathless volley of pointillist stutter and rhythmic attack that recalls early Venetian Snares as much as DJ Nate or Nicholas Collins jamming with Rian Treanor.
Depending on your tolerance for such stuff, ‘My Diary’ will either send listeners over the edge into delirium or running out of the room. Between the tussling kick drums, seething neuro-D&B licks and gibber-jawed vocal edits of ‘Can’t Resist It’, the hyper-ventilating R&B chops of ‘Like What U Do’, and the speedy jungle-jack-crunk of ‘We All Want The Same Thing’, W00dy surely lives up to a self-defined aesthetic “attempting to bring absurdity 2 the dance floor”, and in a way that’s bound to resonate from her hard-working home city with ravers across the globe.
Mosca unbuckles the dancehall thru a wicked modular prism on his shockout debut for Fluf
One of the UK’s unique dancefloor experimenters since his tempo shifting debut for Nightslugs in 2010, Mosca really pushes the envelope of his sound in mad ways with ‘Touchie Riddim’, seemingly spinning the dance in a haywire gyroscope to the nuttiest ends.
If The Sprawl and Tapes hotbed the studio, the result may sound a bit like the decimated Pt.1, while Pt. 2 sound like Russell Haswell going in with Joachim Nordwall as The iDEALIST, Pt. 3 resonates like a Chernobyl bashment, and Pt. 4 attempts to scrape out both your bassbins and your skull.
Kali Malone and Maria W. Horn’s XKatedral label release the debut album by Sweden’s David Granström - a majestic, slow-burning exercise in algorithmic synthesis influenced by medieval and 20th century minimal composition, highly recommended if yr into Phill Niblock, Earth, Catherine Christer Hennix, Autechre.
Granström’s first full-length release firmly establishes him in a field of progressive artists known for generating beguiling new music from a rigorous mixture of algorithmic synthesis, 20th Century minimalism and medieval composition techniques. On ’A distant color, secluded’ he yields a technically complex yet emotively direct demonstration of his compositional style during four works ranging from a pulsating prologue vignette to a side-long epic, each built from the ground up with Supercollider software which provides him with an extremely fine level of control over the timbre of his sounds, cyclically layered into vast topological complexities and worlds within worlds that gradually emerge from reiteration and slight real-time shifts.
Working within isometric and just intonation systems that connect ancient Indian classical traditions to medieval composition and late 20th century expressions of modernity by Cage and Catherine Christer Hennix, Granström’s music strives to collapse distinctions of time and place with absorbing harmonic transitions that highlight an uncanny valley between the sonic laws of the “real”, or manifested world, and his resoundingly immersive spaces of minimalist, pure non-dimensionality.
Between the concise flutter of illusive harmonic flux in ‘The Other Side’, the brazenly coruscating cadence of ‘Approaching The Infinity’, and what sounds like Autechre remixing Earth on the A-side’s ‘Plane At Infinity’, and the swelling gulf of ostensibly still (yet unfathomably deep) waves that crash over the B-side’s ‘Waning Moon’, Granström lucidly questions the listener’s spatio-textural sense of tone and timbre in a way that results in rich instinctive responses and encourages users to listen deeply to, and inhabit, the dissolution of perceptive boundaries.
Hard-nosed breakbeat rave styles from Mark, Unterton’s resident rave mutant
‘Fucking Sick Of Myself Since Day One (Hot Desk Mix)’ starts out promising with a brooding payload of darkside rave pressure, but quickly gets a bit dodgy with splashing big beat breaks that take us right back to early ‘00s raves we’d rather forget.
‘Hats Off To Herr F.’ is much more successful, working whirring breaks and grumbling Reese into an IDM tizzy, before the title track rolls out like a Krust or Digital c. 2000.