Superpang expose another musical universe with this oddball transmission from the mysterious Dupond Dupont, a tidy cadre of flashbang minimalist club experiments that comes off like a zanier Container, or donk-pilled SND.
Who might this be then? We've honestly got no idea, but it's the best thing we've heard from Superpang in a minute. The concept is fairly simple: each track is focused on one microscopically-engineered rhythm, usually assembled from a wobbly bassline (think 'Flat Beat', 'Doom's Night' or a microsampled 'Rip Groove') and a synthesized step that phases in-and-out of the bass. Hypnotic? Sure - it's deceptively simple but disorienting as fuck, and doesn't ever slip into fussy territory 'cause the basslines are always such good value. At its best, the record sounds as if whoever put it together cares as much about donk, makina or scouse house modes as they do icy Nordic minimalism - even the barest rhythms are assembled with a cheeky grin that's impossible to ignore.
Just clap yer ears around 'DD3', that uses three elements (kick, squelch, womp) to shift the mind's ear right in front of the sub at 4am. Nothing happens, particularly, but nothing needs to - the subtle timing shifts are all the mind needs to feel the tensing of the jaw and the loosening of the tongue. On 'DD5' Dupont Dupond get rid of percussive noises altogether, landing on an acidic reduction of shuffled club music that might be a sneakily effective DJ tool. But they find the groove again on 'DD6', introducing the kick to remind us that we're essentially listening to modular donk. Sneaky and brilliant.
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Superpang expose another musical universe with this oddball transmission from the mysterious Dupond Dupont, a tidy cadre of flashbang minimalist club experiments that comes off like a zanier Container, or donk-pilled SND.
Who might this be then? We've honestly got no idea, but it's the best thing we've heard from Superpang in a minute. The concept is fairly simple: each track is focused on one microscopically-engineered rhythm, usually assembled from a wobbly bassline (think 'Flat Beat', 'Doom's Night' or a microsampled 'Rip Groove') and a synthesized step that phases in-and-out of the bass. Hypnotic? Sure - it's deceptively simple but disorienting as fuck, and doesn't ever slip into fussy territory 'cause the basslines are always such good value. At its best, the record sounds as if whoever put it together cares as much about donk, makina or scouse house modes as they do icy Nordic minimalism - even the barest rhythms are assembled with a cheeky grin that's impossible to ignore.
Just clap yer ears around 'DD3', that uses three elements (kick, squelch, womp) to shift the mind's ear right in front of the sub at 4am. Nothing happens, particularly, but nothing needs to - the subtle timing shifts are all the mind needs to feel the tensing of the jaw and the loosening of the tongue. On 'DD5' Dupont Dupond get rid of percussive noises altogether, landing on an acidic reduction of shuffled club music that might be a sneakily effective DJ tool. But they find the groove again on 'DD6', introducing the kick to remind us that we're essentially listening to modular donk. Sneaky and brilliant.
Superpang expose another musical universe with this oddball transmission from the mysterious Dupond Dupont, a tidy cadre of flashbang minimalist club experiments that comes off like a zanier Container, or donk-pilled SND.
Who might this be then? We've honestly got no idea, but it's the best thing we've heard from Superpang in a minute. The concept is fairly simple: each track is focused on one microscopically-engineered rhythm, usually assembled from a wobbly bassline (think 'Flat Beat', 'Doom's Night' or a microsampled 'Rip Groove') and a synthesized step that phases in-and-out of the bass. Hypnotic? Sure - it's deceptively simple but disorienting as fuck, and doesn't ever slip into fussy territory 'cause the basslines are always such good value. At its best, the record sounds as if whoever put it together cares as much about donk, makina or scouse house modes as they do icy Nordic minimalism - even the barest rhythms are assembled with a cheeky grin that's impossible to ignore.
Just clap yer ears around 'DD3', that uses three elements (kick, squelch, womp) to shift the mind's ear right in front of the sub at 4am. Nothing happens, particularly, but nothing needs to - the subtle timing shifts are all the mind needs to feel the tensing of the jaw and the loosening of the tongue. On 'DD5' Dupont Dupond get rid of percussive noises altogether, landing on an acidic reduction of shuffled club music that might be a sneakily effective DJ tool. But they find the groove again on 'DD6', introducing the kick to remind us that we're essentially listening to modular donk. Sneaky and brilliant.
Superpang expose another musical universe with this oddball transmission from the mysterious Dupond Dupont, a tidy cadre of flashbang minimalist club experiments that comes off like a zanier Container, or donk-pilled SND.
Who might this be then? We've honestly got no idea, but it's the best thing we've heard from Superpang in a minute. The concept is fairly simple: each track is focused on one microscopically-engineered rhythm, usually assembled from a wobbly bassline (think 'Flat Beat', 'Doom's Night' or a microsampled 'Rip Groove') and a synthesized step that phases in-and-out of the bass. Hypnotic? Sure - it's deceptively simple but disorienting as fuck, and doesn't ever slip into fussy territory 'cause the basslines are always such good value. At its best, the record sounds as if whoever put it together cares as much about donk, makina or scouse house modes as they do icy Nordic minimalism - even the barest rhythms are assembled with a cheeky grin that's impossible to ignore.
Just clap yer ears around 'DD3', that uses three elements (kick, squelch, womp) to shift the mind's ear right in front of the sub at 4am. Nothing happens, particularly, but nothing needs to - the subtle timing shifts are all the mind needs to feel the tensing of the jaw and the loosening of the tongue. On 'DD5' Dupont Dupond get rid of percussive noises altogether, landing on an acidic reduction of shuffled club music that might be a sneakily effective DJ tool. But they find the groove again on 'DD6', introducing the kick to remind us that we're essentially listening to modular donk. Sneaky and brilliant.