Utterly essential psychedelic cellar-techno variations that augment pneumatic cyber-queer hard dance släps with chiffon Drexciyan sci-fi ambience. Too fucking much!
In a world where the word "techno" has ended up lashed to the grim minimalist 4/4 cycles of Berlin's identikit elite, it's frankly a relief to hear a producer challenging the status quo with such vivid, chaotic elegance. Jasmine Infiniti grew up obsessed with all kinds of sounds - R&B, dance pop, industrial music - and isn't afraid to show it on this debut album, recalling an era where techno suggested a wider spectrum of musical possibility. "Bxtch Släp" is a record that breathes experience: the experience of commanding a seething dancefloor and the experience writhing on it, feeling each penetrating kick and searing hi-hat with every pore and popping synapse.
Opener "Queen of Hell" chops a "Lord of the Rings" sample and inserts it between undulating ketamine stutters, bakelite 909 bumps and ratcheting percussion engineered to tickle the pineal gland. From here, Jasmine Ubers us down the Styx on a bejeweled gloss black raft, evoking the memory of a lifetime of back rooms, basements and sex dungeons from the safety of the holo-deck. The interplay between hard dance physicality - the overdriven neo-gabber kicks on 'Hott', the refried Midwestern electro power of 'Yes, Sir' - and sensitive, pensive mental exploration roots gives a rare sense of balance without pacifying and of the power. At times, "Bxtch Släp"s dreamier moments ('Spooked', '<3 (Heart)') even remind of AFX's enduring "Selected Ambient Works" or Drexicya's gamechanging "The Journey Home" EP.
Techno albums - never mind hard dance albums - have always been a difficult proposition, rarely capturing the club experience as accurately as a DJ set and often misstepping into awkward conceptual cod-ambient nonsense. Jasmine Infiniti avoids all such perils here, sticking to her guns with a full-gas hour plus of evocative jackhammer beats and Hellraiser-esque netherworld chimes. One for the ages, seriously.
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Utterly essential psychedelic cellar-techno variations that augment pneumatic cyber-queer hard dance släps with chiffon Drexciyan sci-fi ambience. Too fucking much!
In a world where the word "techno" has ended up lashed to the grim minimalist 4/4 cycles of Berlin's identikit elite, it's frankly a relief to hear a producer challenging the status quo with such vivid, chaotic elegance. Jasmine Infiniti grew up obsessed with all kinds of sounds - R&B, dance pop, industrial music - and isn't afraid to show it on this debut album, recalling an era where techno suggested a wider spectrum of musical possibility. "Bxtch Släp" is a record that breathes experience: the experience of commanding a seething dancefloor and the experience writhing on it, feeling each penetrating kick and searing hi-hat with every pore and popping synapse.
Opener "Queen of Hell" chops a "Lord of the Rings" sample and inserts it between undulating ketamine stutters, bakelite 909 bumps and ratcheting percussion engineered to tickle the pineal gland. From here, Jasmine Ubers us down the Styx on a bejeweled gloss black raft, evoking the memory of a lifetime of back rooms, basements and sex dungeons from the safety of the holo-deck. The interplay between hard dance physicality - the overdriven neo-gabber kicks on 'Hott', the refried Midwestern electro power of 'Yes, Sir' - and sensitive, pensive mental exploration roots gives a rare sense of balance without pacifying and of the power. At times, "Bxtch Släp"s dreamier moments ('Spooked', '<3 (Heart)') even remind of AFX's enduring "Selected Ambient Works" or Drexicya's gamechanging "The Journey Home" EP.
Techno albums - never mind hard dance albums - have always been a difficult proposition, rarely capturing the club experience as accurately as a DJ set and often misstepping into awkward conceptual cod-ambient nonsense. Jasmine Infiniti avoids all such perils here, sticking to her guns with a full-gas hour plus of evocative jackhammer beats and Hellraiser-esque netherworld chimes. One for the ages, seriously.