Janus resident Lotic fracks the future with five expansive club visions in 'Heterocetera', his first vinyl release and debut for Tri Angle. Finding and opening fissures of possibility in the facade and body of current club music, his unique approach to meter, space and tone results a genuinely affective impact: it challenges the way we dance; probes and teases our pleasure centre's tolerance for off-kilter, oily tones and soured timbre. It's quintessentially queered to the core, all deliquescent structures and plangent harmonics, perhaps finding close analogs in the music of Arca or certain E+E/Elysia Crampton pieces, but actually operating farther out than either of them, from the pensile tone and quasi-speed tilt of 'Suspension', thru the harpy synth squall and buggered bounce of the title track, or the soured, subtly visceral gremlins that writhe under the surface of 'Phlegm'. Perhaps it's not gratifying in the conventional sense of breakdowns, regular rhythms and sweaty peaks, but it more than makes up for it with strange, unknown pleasures and a quietly unsettling sort of future shock. Big tip.
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Janus resident Lotic fracks the future with five expansive club visions in 'Heterocetera', his first vinyl release and debut for Tri Angle. Finding and opening fissures of possibility in the facade and body of current club music, his unique approach to meter, space and tone results a genuinely affective impact: it challenges the way we dance; probes and teases our pleasure centre's tolerance for off-kilter, oily tones and soured timbre. It's quintessentially queered to the core, all deliquescent structures and plangent harmonics, perhaps finding close analogs in the music of Arca or certain E+E/Elysia Crampton pieces, but actually operating farther out than either of them, from the pensile tone and quasi-speed tilt of 'Suspension', thru the harpy synth squall and buggered bounce of the title track, or the soured, subtly visceral gremlins that writhe under the surface of 'Phlegm'. Perhaps it's not gratifying in the conventional sense of breakdowns, regular rhythms and sweaty peaks, but it more than makes up for it with strange, unknown pleasures and a quietly unsettling sort of future shock. Big tip.
Janus resident Lotic fracks the future with five expansive club visions in 'Heterocetera', his first vinyl release and debut for Tri Angle. Finding and opening fissures of possibility in the facade and body of current club music, his unique approach to meter, space and tone results a genuinely affective impact: it challenges the way we dance; probes and teases our pleasure centre's tolerance for off-kilter, oily tones and soured timbre. It's quintessentially queered to the core, all deliquescent structures and plangent harmonics, perhaps finding close analogs in the music of Arca or certain E+E/Elysia Crampton pieces, but actually operating farther out than either of them, from the pensile tone and quasi-speed tilt of 'Suspension', thru the harpy synth squall and buggered bounce of the title track, or the soured, subtly visceral gremlins that writhe under the surface of 'Phlegm'. Perhaps it's not gratifying in the conventional sense of breakdowns, regular rhythms and sweaty peaks, but it more than makes up for it with strange, unknown pleasures and a quietly unsettling sort of future shock. Big tip.
Janus resident Lotic fracks the future with five expansive club visions in 'Heterocetera', his first vinyl release and debut for Tri Angle. Finding and opening fissures of possibility in the facade and body of current club music, his unique approach to meter, space and tone results a genuinely affective impact: it challenges the way we dance; probes and teases our pleasure centre's tolerance for off-kilter, oily tones and soured timbre. It's quintessentially queered to the core, all deliquescent structures and plangent harmonics, perhaps finding close analogs in the music of Arca or certain E+E/Elysia Crampton pieces, but actually operating farther out than either of them, from the pensile tone and quasi-speed tilt of 'Suspension', thru the harpy synth squall and buggered bounce of the title track, or the soured, subtly visceral gremlins that writhe under the surface of 'Phlegm'. Perhaps it's not gratifying in the conventional sense of breakdowns, regular rhythms and sweaty peaks, but it more than makes up for it with strange, unknown pleasures and a quietly unsettling sort of future shock. Big tip.
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Janus resident Lotic fracks the future with five expansive club visions in 'Heterocetera', his first vinyl release and debut for Tri Angle. Finding and opening fissures of possibility in the facade and body of current club music, his unique approach to meter, space and tone results a genuinely affective impact: it challenges the way we dance; probes and teases our pleasure centre's tolerance for off-kilter, oily tones and soured timbre. It's quintessentially queered to the core, all deliquescent structures and plangent harmonics, perhaps finding close analogs in the music of Arca or certain E+E/Elysia Crampton pieces, but actually operating farther out than either of them, from the pensile tone and quasi-speed tilt of 'Suspension', thru the harpy synth squall and buggered bounce of the title track, or the soured, subtly visceral gremlins that writhe under the surface of 'Phlegm'. Perhaps it's not gratifying in the conventional sense of breakdowns, regular rhythms and sweaty peaks, but it more than makes up for it with strange, unknown pleasures and a quietly unsettling sort of future shock. Big tip.