Techno / House
650 products
“I’ve been partying since 1984,” says Jamal Moss, the living Chicago legend known by his dedicated cult following as the one, the only, Hieroglyphic Being. “40 years later, it’s drastically different - everybody’s angry!” So sets the stage for Dance Music 4 Bad People, the artist’s first album for Smalltown Supersound. Tapping back into the same cosmic frequencies responsible for the prolific house virtuoso’s most vital work, the album sees Moss coaxing nine anthems for those up to no good from out of the ether. With driving drum machine workouts and low-slung synth sexuality, Hieroglyphic Being pays homage to human fallibility, drawing focus on the revolutionary potential of house music and club culture that is so often lost to the chaos of the present. “I have yet to walk into a club and see everybody hug and say: Let’s forgive each other, let’s move forward and make the world a better place,” he levels. “With all these conversations about sexuality, ethnicity, politics, whatever, when you walk into an environment with the music, you are supposed to celebrate all of that. Let it be and come together.” As the tongue-in-check title suggests, Moss looks to the eternal quality of his art to throw moral compasses into disarray, speaking truth to the evil energies that have permeated the club industrial complex of today while challenging black and white notions of good and bad that are so easily instrumentalized for the persecution of those at the fringes. For Moss, this is a tension he has observed since he started hearing the sound pioneered by Ron Hardy at the legendary Muzic Box, back when Chicago house music was born. “Back then, especially during the Reagan era and the police brutality of the so-called crime and crack epidemic, the one thing I noticed in my community was that house music actually helped us escape from all that negative stuff and make everybody in the environment support each other more.” Experiencing house as a great leveling force, the origins of the cosmic dance prophet the Hieroglyphic Being would become can be traced back to the club as an essential site of acceptance. “If there was anybody of a certain walk of life, politically, sexually, ethically, financially, we didn’t care,” he asserts. “We were just there to be free of all that shit.” It’s this loose vitality that Moss understands to be in severely short supply in the dance music scene today. “Festivals and clubs profess to propagate safe spaces, but you’ve probably seen it firsthand: you look around and a good percent of people in the club are not happy.” Taking aim at the entire ecosystem, from the malaise and malcontentedness of modern audiences to the false solidarity and commodification of minority positions within the commercial entity of dance music, Moss offers up the raw, unrefined power of the tracks collected on Dance Music For Bad People as an antidote to these evil forces. You can hear this negativity fleeing in fear from the surging drums of ‘U R Not Dying Ur Just Waking Up’ and ‘Dispatches From The B4 Life,’ or teased into submission by the sensual low end gurgle of ‘The Secret teachings Of The Ages’ and the ambling bassline of ‘Reality Is Not What It May Seem.’ On the dense cacophony of ‘The Art Of Living A Meaningless Existence,’ Moss sounds ready for spiritual war, armed with restless sequencing and bursts of high voltage static. But it’s Moss’s ability to capture fleeting moments of transience that provide us insight into the esoteric knowledge hinted at by his track titles. The lysergic tempo change of ‘I Am In A Strange Loop’ stretches out its rippling organ to revel in its celestial detail, while the nervous, metallic twangs of ‘Awakening From the Daydreams’ are gradually tempered by soft, crystalline flourishes. This same shimmer shines through the blown out wall of sound of ‘The Map Of Salt & Stars,’ illuminating the shade with stark clarity. These are glimpses of a master at work, constantly tweaking his sound towards a purer feeling and his thought to a higher understanding. As the American empire crumbles, the Hieroglyphic Being strides forward with a clear vision to broadcast a sage warning. “If you let other people dictate to you how you are supposed to feel about someone else, it goes into a dark space, especially when there’s nothing good you can say about them,” he says. “Get out of your comfort zone and reach out to people so you can learn more about them.” Though this temptation to judge can be irresistible, Moss believes in the primordial power of the Chicago house sound. Rather than condemn some as bad and others as good, Dance Music 4 Bad People helps us all to recognise each other through the smoke and strobe light. The Hieroglyphic Being speaks through the sound with a message of optimism and hope. “Everybody should be loved, adored, respected, no matter the path you take.”
Glossy Mistakes is proud to unveil Ecstasy Boys Selections, a carefully curated collection of three mesmerizing tracks from the pioneering Japanese electronic trio Ecstasy Boys. These tracks released originally between 1990 and 1994, curated by Glossy Mario, revisits the innovative sounds of the group that shaped underground Japanese club culture during the 90s. While their influence remained largely within Japan, their music resonates far beyond borders, standing as a testament to the creativity and innovation that defined an era.
The Ecstasy Boys-formed by Mitsuru Kotaki, Shiro Amamiya, and Tatsuro Amamiya-were a driving force in the Japanese electronic music scene. Known for their eclectic productions and boundary-pushing performances, the trio captivated audiences and influenced a generation of local DJs, producers, and club-goers.
Ecstasy Boys Selections pays homage to this vital chapter in Japanese dance music history, highlighting the trio's creativity. The compilation includes three tracks that exemplify their unique blend of Balearic, leftfield house, and progressive sounds.
Ecstasy Boys Selections breathes new life into these timeless tracks while preserving their original character and depth. Licensed courtesy of Shiro Amamiya and Avex Inc. this release is an essential addition to the libraries of Balearic, house, and experimental music heads.
Susumu Yokota’s glyding mid ‘90s acid works for Dr. Motte and co’s Space Teddy revived for a 30 year anniversary reissue with Transmigration, dovetailing their interests in early Goan dance and ‘90s trance with this double album set of lush, SAW-like bubblers.
Replete with liner notes by top flight ‘90s trance producer Mijk Van Dijk, the ‘Space Teddy Collection’ scans a seam of Susumu Yokota’s work circa his albums for Harthouse and the legendary ‘Acid Mt. Fuji’ for Sublime. This posthumous retrospective hails his purest acid works, inflected with the rhythmelodic lilt and aerodynamic elegance that distinguished Yokota’s work from his contemporary milieu. Sifted from two albums, ‘Zen’ (1994) and ‘ten’ (1996), the nine cuts are all characterised by a pursuit of hypnotic club sensuality, and scale between FM feathered ambient acid house and more urgent acid trance.
Beginning slow and spacious with the resonant 303 tweaks and wide open pads of ‘Sou’, the set toggles the intensity of Susumu’s Ebi output between the lip-smacking upness of ‘San’ to the sand-trample triplet wiggle of ‘Tsuru’ and proper yoghurt-weaver tackle in ‘Hi’. At the set’s core he takes the longview with the near 9 minute slow mo drug chug of ‘Zen’ and the Plastikman-esque ambient acid crawler ‘Chuu’, saving the beatific bliss of ‘Kaze’ and ‘Tsuki’ to play out on the back of fluttering eyelids.
'Faith In Strangers’ was recorded between January 2013 and June 2014, and was edited and sequenced in July 2014. Making use of on an array of instruments, field recordings, found sounds and vocal treatments, it’s a largely analogue variant of hi-tech production arcing from the dissonant to the sublime.
Opener ‘Time Away’ features Euphonium played by Kim Holly Thorpe and closing track ‘Missing’ features vocals from Stott’s vocal collaborator Alison Skidmore. Between these two points ‘Faith In Strangers’ heads off from the sparse and infected ‘Violence’ to the broken, downcast pop of ‘On Oath’ and the motorik, driving melancholy of ‘Science & Industry’ - three vocal tracks built around a destroyed production style that's pioneering in spirit, buried in sentiment.
‘No Surrender’ is a primitive spell making way for pitch-screwed woodblock drums, while ‘How It Was’ refracts sweaty warehouse signatures and ‘Damage’ comes like RZA’s ‘Ghost Dog’ re-factored by Terror Danjah. The title track is the album's most beautiful, gliding on a chiming melody and the hum of Andy’s mixing desk.
Stone cold.
Picking up where "Máquina de Vénus" (Blacksea Não Maya) left off, this is now near 100% DJ Kolt at the controls. Slow, grinding power tools working their way across the complex web of ideas the producer lays down. Truly a next level thing, taking elements from recognized styles such as tarraxo, EDM, even trap, bending their accepted signifiers to suit his own creative mind instead of the crowd pleasing monster that constantly haunts Dance Music. Here we find a wonderful, twisted approach to the dancefloor, one heavy on brain activity, fantastically moody, showcasing music that we long ago quit trying to define.
"Despertar" (again) changes the game, adding secret doors and pathways previously unheard and unthought of. This right here is the mark of a unique producer. You'll have a hard time trying to compare Kolt with any other artist on Príncipe, much less on the outside world. A keen sense of groove filters through all tracks, the dance is never forgotten but you know there are certain demands - you can't just expect a straight line to "a good night out", there's an effort required, you'll have to reach out as well so you can let loose and connect with the universal Master Plan.
The album is all made up of liquid transitions as much as rock-hard foundations, perfectly capable of being explicit when honouring the roots but so committed to a new stance that one may feel thrown off balance by the sheer genius of the compositions. High art with a deep low end.
After crafting an all-timer with 2008's 'Hazyville', Actress set his sights on the unknown with a futureshock debut for Honest Jon's.
Wheras it's predecessor was composed over a staggered period of many years, Splazsh was fashioned in a fraction of that time, lending a tangible symmetry between shapeshifting tracks that defined and propelled the era. Of the 14 tracks, we'd previously encountered the first two, with the unstable space float of 'Hubble' appearing on a shady Thriller 12" and his remix of Various Production's 'Lost' reminding us that there are some deep cuts in the Cunningham discography.
From here in it's all about that longing, sealing the airlock and initiating pressure sequence with 'Futureproofing', before laying down 'Always Human' - can u even remember a time you didnt know this one? Showing resistance towards any categorisation, 'Get Ohn (Fairlight Mix)' swerves down a side street into a footwurkin' face-off by sliding to a mutilated mix of Jon E Cash and Chez Damier played underwater. Next we hit the erogenous interzone of 'Maze' and that incapacitatingly lush bassline designed to lock into your central nervous system and send shockwaves of piloerection to every fucking corner of your soul.
After that, we're cynically dumped into the Ferraro-esque Prince tribute 'Purple Splazsh', and on into the Detroit ghetto stalk of 'Let's Fly'. The dissonant robo-crunk of 'The Kettle Men' and closing entry 'Casanova' confirm that if anything, Actress only suffers from a surfeit of ideas. Proof, if it were needed, that there is a sprawling future beyond the stasis of so much contemporary electronic music.
Spangled 2-step swivel, hyperkinetic techno and restless ambient by Doc Sleep & Delta Rain Dance’s Beats Unlimited duo out of Berlin
Beats Unlimited put forth their 2nd effort on Hypno Discs, run by Glenn Astro aka Delta Rain Dance, urging bodies in motion from the air-filleting swing and parry of ‘Virta Chords’ with its butterfly-winged 2-step and fluttering jazz notes, to the fast-FWD hyper footwork rush of a ’Speed Dub’ recalling Sasu Ripatti’s Dance Classics experiments, and finally easing off into the the sound bathing, eye-fluttering ambient of ‘Transition Env’.
Turn On Arab American Radio, Muslimgauze Archive Series volume 34
"Through this release, the music stays on the minimal side, leaning heavily on using a drum machine and minimal Middle Eastern samples and instruments, but like the radio signals only. As I like minimalism and the occasional Muslimgauze release, I immensely enjoyed this."
Vital Weekly number 1365
The relationship between Bryn Jones’ music as Muslimgauze and the track/abum titles he would provide (sometimes right on the tapes he would send in for release, but often determined later, sometimes even giving two different pieces months apart the same title, accidentally or not) has always been a little mysterious. Jones himself can no longer be asked, and as we continue to investigate the swathes of material he provided, you hit sources like the DAT or DATs that make up the contents of the new double LP Turn On Arab American Radio. Nine tracks, the first LP/four tracks titled “Turn On Arab American Radio,” and the other LP/five tracks labelled only “Arab American Radio.” None of them sound particularly radio-esque, although given the simultaneous vastness and ornate focus of Jones’ Muslimgauze work that gap between name and sound is far from atypical.
Instead here the de rigeur percussion loops that underpin this particular set of tracks, while occasionally clipping into the fierce distortion that Jones either loved to use or couldn’t get away from, steer away from both the more consistent application of that distortion as well as the Middle Eastern and Asian influences he often used. It’d be a stretch to call anything here basic boom-bap production but they come closer to it than a lot of Muslimgauze production. And while those loops are, as always prominent, they’re not actually the focus; settling into steady vamps as structures for Jones to pursue an extended and often more gentle exploration of the other sample sources he has here. There are stringed instruments, the sound of water, but most prominently or strikingly the human voice. Nothing is in English but tone and the occasional word (“familia”, “passport”) still provide guides. There are ululations, snatches of melody; but most often speech, dialogue, often tense and harried sounding. Is this what Jones was thinking of or referring to with his “Arab American Radio”?
As with so many other questions about Muslimgauze, we’ll never know the answer to that one. (Most pertinently in this case we might wonder who appears here, and what the context of these recordings is. But Jones never provided that with his submissions.) Here, even though those inexorable loops pound on, indefatigable, that emphasis on some of the people Jones chooses lends a measured gentleness to much of Turn On Arab American Radio, at least within the context of his body of work. The last thing you hear at the end of the second LP is one last question from one of the many speakers on this peculiar Muslimgauze radio, echoed away into infinity. We may never have answers, but those questions continue to resonate.
![DeepChord - Vantage Isle [Remastered] (Clear Vinyl 3x12")](http://meditations.jp/cdn/shop/files/CS1070704-01A-BIG_{width}x.jpg?v=1741098670)
Rod Modell & Stephen Hitchell’s landmark 2006 vessel docks its first 3 x 12” edition, replete with the first ever Convextion remix and graced by some of the finest dub techno beyond the M-Series/BC canon.
At just-shy of 20 years old, and giving us acute nostalgia for hazier days, ‘Vantage Isle’ is renowned and enhanced with the benefit of hindsight for swirling countless sessions to a depth-charged payload of skanking, trotting, clagged-up dub house emblematic of the Berlin sound’s Detroit echo(space). It was the fateful first release on DeepChord’s own label, ushering tidal waves of moon-pulled grooves that have shored up on shelves everywhere, ready to be cracked out at those times when only the fuzziest stuff will suffice. To our (admittedly patchy) recollection its release coincided a period when mushies were, weirdly enough, legal in the UK and the madge was, well, majestic, and this record was a go-to soundtrack for properly smudged times.
The first disc ideally oscillates signature strokes of durational, pounding dub house in ‘dc mix I’ and its multiple variations, reshapes, and dubs, notably the likes of their poignant dub noise miniatures such as ‘echo space glacial’ which pushed the BC aesthetic deeper into the brink of oblique, and came up for air in hypnogroggic style on the likes of the ‘spacecho dub II [extended mix]’. Even better, and practically worth price of admission alone, is the Convextion remix - Gerard Hanson’s first - masterfully distilling the elements to a ghostly choral swell swept up in pendulous triplets that eternally transport to the sublime.
100% classique.
Emotional Response is proud to welcome renowned multi-instrumentalist Alan Briand aka Shelter, to the label with a striking new EP that delves deep into the realms of modern Digi-Dub.
Over a myriad of releases Shelter’s dextrous ability to straddle genres, from ambient, Balearic, improvisation and most recently a series of acid ragas, releasing on an impressive roster of today’s electronic labels including Antinote, Growing Bin, International Feel, Séance Centre and his own Protopost imprint.
After making waves on Emotional Response's All Trades compilations with his standout track "The Four Knights Dub," Briand returns to further explore his passion for digital dub and UK roots. Across four tracks, all recorded live, he merges sound design, found sounds, and world music with seismic basslines, creating a truly immersive sonic experience.
The rise of Digital Dub is often traced to the groundbreaking "Under Me Sleng Teng" by Prince Jammy / Wayne Smith, but it was the UK's later reversioning – adding electronic drums to roots and steppers rhythms – that gave birth to the unique sound of Digi-Dub.
Shelter pays homage to this tradition, drawing inspiration from the likes of Alpha & Omega, Bush Chemist, and Jonah Dan. His process is as raw as it is innovative: building an analog setup with a MIDI sequencer, DCO synth, live vocals, and sound effects fed through Boss pedals. Digital drums from the KPR77 and DD10 are layered in, with everything mixed live to tape, no overdubs, capturing the raw, live energy of the performance.
This EP must be experienced as a whole – a continuous live set of steppers 4/4 rhythms, cryptic titles (a nod to chess tactics) that acts as rewinds, paying tribute to dub classics of the past.
Deepchord have emerged from the shadows of their Motor City lair in a big way this year, unleashing their dubby techno constructs upon the public at a feverish pace. Previously appearing earlier this year on a hyper-limited triple-pack, their landmark ‘Vantage Isle’ album has been re-released on CD in an expanded fashion.
Awash in effervescent sheets of reverb and echo that evoke images of Detroit’s decaying urban landscapes as they dissolve into the ether, there’s a certain physicality to the album’s sonic vistas that is lacking from the output of other producers mining similar territory. Where contemporaries such as Deadbeat and Mikkel Metal gloss over the dub with a digital sheen, DeepChord wring their sounds from tangles of live wires and sputtering banks of effects, molding and shaping them by hand until they coalesce into living organisms. It’s a sonic space with one foot in the past and the other firmly planted in the not-so-distant future.
Often resembling a cross between Berlin’s Basic Channel collective and Detroit’s techno lineage, ‘Vantage Isle’ is less an album of individual tracks than a compilation of remixes. Working from a limited sonic palette rooted in the signature warmth of the analog technologies of yore, the collection plays out in true dub fashion as each of the artists involved offers their own versions of the same rudimentary riddim. The effect is similar in fashion to Rhythm & Sound’s classic ‘See Mi Yah’ series, with the basic template examined and reexamined from different angles.
Despite being cut from the same aural cloth, each of the tracks occupies its own niche, with the artist’s stamp firmly imprinted on the final product. The three DeepChord mixes feature lumbering rhythms underpinned by devastatingly deep bass pulses set adrift amid a sea of tumbling chords and skittering delay. Echospace – the collaborative project between Soultek and DeepChord’s own Rod Modell – is well represented with five reshapes showcasing their signature style, which is simultaneously both more ambient and more techno-oriented than anything DeepChord has committed to tape. Labelmate CV313 also impresses, turning in a complimentary pair of tracks that demonstrate the mysterious producer’s aptitude for producing storming waves of driving beats over a milky smooth ambience.
But it’s the contribution from Convextion that really stands out. Paring the beat down to a pulsing mass of kick drums and ruptured bursts of static, the Texas-based producer weaves writhing clusters of chords into the mix as yawning pads bathe everything in a warm, static-fried glow. It’s creepy stuff, but it’s also the visionary highlight of an album that stands tall not just among the glut of contemporary dub techno releases, but among the classics of the genre as well. All in all, ‘Vantage Isle’ is a tremendous achievement that will most likely be held up as a high water mark of the genre for years to come.
-Resident Advisor
Michigan’s Rod Modell makes immersive techno. It doesn’t quite fit into any specific genre mold, so his subtle, nearly anonymous tracks can slip by unnoticed. It’s easy to get lost in the microbial hiss, goopy dub timbres and rumbling muffle to miss the bass writhing in the fuzz or percussive tics cracking the drone.
On Vantage Isle Sessions, he again partners with Soultek’s Steven Hitchell as DeepChord. This new disc comprises 12 remixes by the duo of the elusive "Vantage Isle,” a track so impermanent it appears there was never a proper, original version. The 13th remix, smack in the middle of the disc’s sequencing, comes from the sole outsider: Gerard Hanson (Convextion). It may also be the best thing here. His version is by far the most submerged; strands of shuffling dust pile up on a cyborg samba, immersed in a hail of cut-ups, stray clicks and extended chords. Modell and Hitchell’s "Echospace Spatial Dub" is far more immediate. The closest thing to a straight dance cut, its bass is crisp and dry, looped in a slinky cycle that rattles along a taut trot, leaving the dub FX to plop and squish on the periphery.
The "Echospace Reshape" could pass as early-’90s ambient rockers Seefeel remixed by a Warp glitch-termite of comparable vintage. It’s a radian eight-minute sprawl that, thankfully, can’t decide whether it struts or churns, jets spurting and bass paddling in mutual confusion. The "Echospace Glacial" mix is practically a symphony of aquatic audio, complete with cascading water. The "cv313" reductions are the most surprising. The first applies a more variegated rhythm, its spatter and chipped blips a relief from the disc’s constant numbing throb. The second, the album’s closer, is all crackling froth and organ spume, blissfully coursing through the stereo field.
Modell is in solo mode on the weirder Incense and Black Light. From its title on down, this album has an after-hours feel. There’s more water, but now it sounds like it’s pebbling apartment windows instead of draining along sewer canals. A recurring bongo-like smatter, muted and almost incongruous, adds to the bedroom vibe. It’s as if some vintage space-age bachelor pad LP is spinning absent-mindedly with the volume turned way down. Only the tinniest percussion pops through the silence. Chimes shimmer, hi-hats lisp, steam crackles. Modell’s music always seems to be in this suspended animation, adrift and afloat in a majestic emptiness.
-Dusted Magazine
You might say that the sound of Deepchord results from one of techno's rock-hardest truths: Jack into the primordial 4/4 throb, the universal language of kick-drum, and the rest of your track's sonic spectrum is fair game for experiments of the maddest science.
Deepchord's lab book in this case is a dark-art manual for contacting the Jamaican-dub spirit world, a volume its Detroit-based progenitor Rod Modell was most likely handed by someone from Berlin's Basic Channel label. In its heyday, Basic Channel's style was often tagged "heroin house," a term coined ostensibly to account for the fleeting subgenre's pulsing silvery narcosis. If an opiate reference leaves you cold, however, you can think of it as "scuba house": dance jams for the diving bell. Let's face it, though. All along calling the sport scuba "diving" has been a way of covering up what it really is, and the properties it shares with Deepchord: the sensation of sitting at the bottom of the ocean for a long time and savoring the healing properties of otherworldly ambience. Along those lines, "Deepchord" and "Echospace" would be great brand names for long-range Navy Seal audio espionage gear, the kind you could use to make spine-tingling underwater field recordings of the sort of drifty, murmuring echoes and chthonic subbass tremors, that permeate Vantage Isle. And while the Deepchord/Echospace universe promotes a carefully vintage style, purist should note that it's not wholly analog. Mitchell professes his love for early digital synths, like the landmark Yamaha DX7. As he says in an interview with Resident Advisor, it's a hardware sound, one that distinctly separates it from the kind of computer-software plug-in steez that's the current benchmark for convenient techno production. Released on triple-pack last year as the latest and most epic of Echospace's near-cultishly coveted vinyl productions, it takes material played live at the Detroit Electronic Music Festival in 2001, and in the great spirit of electronic musical anonymity, allows it to be devoured by a wolf-pack of various pseudonyms and collaborations. If you simply heard the album and didn't read about it, you wouldn't know it was the same dubby minimal techno track thirteen times.
That's a testament to the unexpected broadness of palette that is left after it's been decided that you're amputating music down to its barest filtered flicker. The original dubby excursion gets eaten up, obliterated, leaving behind a beatless void on the fourth track, gets resurrected via hardcore throb on the standout seventh track, morphs into a refined and alluring nightclub pulse on the eleventh. Despite all the diversity, Vantage Isle does not, however, span the full geographical expanse of Deepchord's The Coldest Season, which went from tundra to valley to desert plain. Instead its sequence of inspired variations creates a pulsing, silvery rainforest of microcosmic depth. The listener ends up in a position kind of like the protagonist in Kafka's "A Country Doctor," who on first inspecting his young patient finds no physical incursion, only upon a second closer glance to discover a grotesque wound in the same place where there was just bare skin. Such is the effect of this strand of minimal electronics: With its enshrouded maternal heartbeats and diaphonous synths burbles it can lurk in the background of your aural space interminably, only to reach out and smack you without warning. Great for drug addicts, OCD-sufferers, and anyone else with over-acute hearing and/or insomnia.
-Prefix Magazine
![cv313 - seconds to forever [remastered] (Midnight Blue Transparent Vinyl 12")](http://meditations.jp/cdn/shop/files/180386524_{width}x.webp?v=1741008853)
*Fully Remastered* Special stuff from Stephen Hitchell and Rod Modell's cv313 alias, dropping two sturdy but spectral House grooves backed with an epic 22 minute live recording made in "the heart of Detroit". The A-side mixes of 'Seconds To Forever' are made for that non-exclusive club in the clouds, the one where every track is a gaseous anthem which only requires a slow smile of approval. Their original mix is all about strafing bassline movements whose gentle kinetic motions expel intoxicating clouds of dreamy sleep-techno tones for that deliciously anaesthetised suspension. The 'Remodel' organises the effervescence into curling dub chords while a layer of tilted congas from The Howard Street Rhythm Section trickles through the mist. If you need the bliss to last longer flip over for the ultimate catharsis of a 22 minute+ 'Reprise' which was mastered for a forthcoming CD release by legendary NSC mastering engineer, Ron Murphy before he sadly passed away. Hitchell has since retouched the track with some help from Mark Richardson and his analogue desk at Prarie Cat Mastering, sloping the momentum for a near-infinite psychedelic exploration. Sublime.
Black 12" vinyl in printed inner sleeve in 3mm outer sleeve
WRWTFWW Records is honored to present a one of a kind collaboration release between buzzing UK producer and DJ Pizza Hotline and Swedish electronic and synth icon Mitch Murder, delivering 3 gigantic tracks each for the Anti Gravity Tournament album, now available as a limited-edition LP housed in a heavyweight 350gsm sleeve illustrated by the legendary junkboy. It is also available in digital formats.
Inspired by the classic WipEout video game series, this high-energy boosted split-album transports listeners into the futuristic world of anti-gravity racing, a colorful turbo adventure soundtracked by 6 mega tracks of fast-paced atmospheric jungle, thunderous breaks, and liquid drum & bass. The adrenaline-fueled collection delivers maximum energy and dreamy vibes, a true paradise for fans of 90s/Y2K video games, LTJ Bukem, Peshay, Soichi Terada, and previous efforts by Mitch & Pizza.
Anti Gravity Tournament follows 2 critically-acclaimed albums by Pizza Hotline – Level Select and Polygon Island, both still available on WRWTFWW Records, as well as the limited Low Poly Breaks cassette series which sold out in a few minutes.
Mitch Murder is known as one of the originators of synthwave and has released timeless albums on Rosso Corsa Records, Mad Decent, and My Pet Flamingo (TimeSlave Recordings). He is also the man behind the Kung Fury soundtrack and has collaborated with…David Hasselhoff himself!
The astonishing exclusive artwork comes from the one and only junkboy, creative director at Mojang Studios (Minecraft) and all-around design grandmaster.
Fasten your seatbelt and join the fun. </p><iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 340px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1175731080/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://wrwtfww.com/album/anti-gravity-tournament">Anti Gravity Tournament by Mitch Murder x Pizza Hotline</a></iframe>
Pitchfork gave it a good score of 7.4! Anthony Naples and Jenny Harris are well known for their work on The Trilogy Tapes and Proibito, and are also known for their work on the Harris' "The Trilogy Tapes" and "Proibito" labels.
DJ Python is also known for the smash hit "Dulce Compañia," his 17-year debut LP on Slattery's hot label, Incienso.
DJ Python's second album is an immersive sound that blurs the boundaries between ambient and dance music. The second album from DJ Python, who has been known around the world as "deep reggaeton", is an immersive work that blurs the line between ambient and dance music, updating Jamaican dance sounds from dancehall to reggaeton to dembow with a deep ambient perspective. The preceding single "ADMSDP" (B2), which features poet/performer LA Warman on vocals, is a masterpiece. The soundscape is a complete knockout!
Mutant steppers techno maverick Carrier caps 2024 with a doublepack of the sought-after first two 12”s issued on his own label - both now trading for twice the price 2nd hand - comprising some of the deadliest, most stripped down twists on club music fundamentals of the decade so far - big one if yr into T++, Photek, Chain Reaction, Burial.
As Carrier, Guy Brewer has rigorously consolidated his fascinations with technoid dance music physics to proper, cult acclaim. Distilling the rolling pressure of his D&B work as half of Commix with the granite hewn heft of his techno streak as Shifted, and the finely spaced pressure of his sound design that defined his Alexander Lewis and Covered In Sand bits, the project has come to represent the bleeding edge of club music in a way mistakenly thought lost to a previous era.
The bloody-minded focus on his thing has resulted in a frankly jaw-dropping new sound that still conveys the increasingly rarer rush of the new that we once felt hearing Photek and Source Direct in the late ‘90s, or in the refined rolige of Autechre and T++/Monolake 12”s in the ‘00s, thru the mutations of 2562 and A Made Up Sound, or Raime’s writhing shapeshifting into the 2010s. Fair to say those lineages were fractured by Covid-enforced dancefloor downtime, but Carrier still holds their principles of obsessively tight, syncopated percussion and subbass rhythm programming and proprioceptive sound design close to heart with diehard, visionary effect.
From the squashed woodblock drums and dry concrète tone of ‘Into the Habit’ and rugged techno dub of ’Shading’, thru the tendon-tweak lean of ’Still So’ on the ‘Neither Curve Nor Edge’ 12”, and over to the pressure of his subaquatic shimmy in ‘Coastal’, or lip-bitingly taut 2-step swivel of ’Wood Over Plastic’ on the ‘In Spectra’ 12”; his skeletal rhythm trax dare to dance in lesser heard but wholly vital niches of club music in a way that plays to club needs, not wants.
No hyperbole, it’s just 100% deadly if you ask we, and makes the other 99% of dance music producers right now sound like line-dancing copycats in relief of his sound: a painstakingly chiselled pursuit of the dragon that drove UK dance music - particular the ‘hardcore ‘nuum - to thrilling, inspirational degrees from the late ‘80s thru the ‘90s and into the present. After wriggling our socks off to his new live set on The White Hotel’s faithful rig a few weeks ago, we can only confirm he’s the best to do it right now, and this doublepack is fucking unmissable if you follow.
For the dancers, DJs!
</p><iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 274px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=246103884/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://0207carrier.bandcamp.com/album/neither-curve-nor-edge">Neither Curve Nor Edge by Carrier</a></iframe><iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 241px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3759117354/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://0207carrier.bandcamp.com/album/in-spectra">In Spectra by Carrier</a></iframe>
Matter-of-factly, Lycox exclaims "Yaaahh" right at the beginning. That's an affirmation but in times of distress it can also mean resignation, something like "Yeah, whatever". Lycox says he was only freestyling though. Then the bassline appears. Elastic, expressive, full-bodied. And it's not even present the whole time. He was "trying to develop a new formula for the Kuduro beat."
Songs for the club? Most certainly. Different sensibilities, one same focused mind. Lycox evolves within tradition, he has mastered the groove, the ambience, the right tones. Simply called "Energia", the last track circles above wistfully, menacing but maybe just promising some sort of action. With a few drops one could almost switch over to a parallel universe of old school Trance, a reference that feels as alien here as maybe this track feels to someone for whom the standard Afro House sound represents modern African music.
These songs pile up in a threshold balanced between styles, sensations, maybe in the middle of life itself. Such a concentration of energy is bound to need release and that comes figuratively through details in the music reaching out to receptive ears. "To Bem Loko" explicitly tries to "literally drive everyone crazy on the dancefloor." Once again Lycox provides vocals, as in "Edson no Uige", about a friend who embarked on a trip to the Angolan province of Uige and came back speaking only the local dialect known as lingala. A nod to tradition, very emotional, without compromising complex arrangements. Consequently, we the listeners are kept believing there is still enough space for a bright future. To ears accustomed to Lycox productions the title "Contemporaneo" (opening of side B) reads like a redundancy, then.
Maybe this music can never be quite as massive as other Afro styles. Without sounding pretentious, it avoids simplistic patterns, it demands a bit more mental processing while it certainly aims to loosen the limbs. Universal in vocation, underground at the core, Lycox definitely calls it Batida but for some it is still Ghetto Music. Like DJ Veiga said when describing a previous release for Príncipe, Ghetto is home, though. Lycox adds it is a foundation of personality. "Few in our community will recognize your work when you come from the same environment, but once you establish your reputation outside of the neighbourhood and even outside of the country, people will look at you differently, as if you were a star."
Heat is a surprise new double album from Shinichi Atobe for Demdike Stare. It follows on from 2017's From The Heart, It's A Start, A Work Of Art (DDS 023LP) and continues a run of highly enigmatic, acclaimed and completely unparalleled productions that follow their own timeless logic. There's no sonic fiction involved; this material really does just turn up on a CD sent by air mail from Japan to Manchester, sparse info, no messing, pure gold. What's that cover art about? It's probaby something to do with the balmy, slightly fucked, sun-stroked material within. "So Good, So Right", the ten-minute opener, will force you to forget about all the shit around you for a while. There are also several tracks called "Heat"; they're all killer. This music takes you elsewhere almost immediately; that fan on your desk is basically a summer breeze. In fact, this whole album is absurd, completely effortless, and a total classic. Find a more life-affirming electronic album in 2018, and there's an ice cream in the offing. Mastered and cut by Matt Colton, cover by Mat Thornton.
Shinichi Atobe’s fifth album for DDS, his first in two years. Deep and sublime, the classic Chain Reaction < > Chicago House vibe, but this time with a swarming Drexciyan undercurrent, somewhere between DJ Sprinkles, Dopplereffekt and The Other People Place, and yet still 100% Shinichi.
It’s odd working with an artist without ongoing dialogue; no context or an exchange of ideas. It’s all conjecture. Here's another CD of material in the post from Shinichi, two years more or less since the last one. No words except for the track titles. Oh, a photo this time.
‘Yes’, positivity, hope. But the album starts with a dystopian vision; something like Dopplereffekt’s sound-chemistry experiments, a tense builder. Big optimistic chasms open up, the Piano House euphoria of the title track, beautiful sunset closer 'Ocean 1’. But there’s a noticeable change too. 'Lake 2’ is more fraught sci-fi, 'Lake 3’ a sort of percussive Chain Reaction monster, 'Loop 1’, on a Drexciyan tip.
It’s all coated in that weird - some people say infuriating - toppy production, witnessed this time in a more tempered and different formation courtesy of an amazing Rashad Becker master, all precise but loosely swung arrangements. Everything slow to unfurl but, also, everything in exactly the right place. (Boomkat)
Shinichi Atobe has managed to stay off the grid since he made an appearance on Basic Channel's Chain Reaction imprint back in 2001. He delivered the second-to-last 12" on the label and then disappeared without a trace, leaving behind a solitary record that's been selling for crazy money and a trail of speculation that has led some people to wonder whether the project was in fact the work of someone on the Basic Channel payroll. That killer Chain Reaction 12" has also been a longtime favorite of Demdike Stare, who have been trying to follow the trail and make contact with Atobe for some time, whoever he turned out to be. A lead from the Basic Channel office turned up an address in Japan and -- unbelievably -- an album full of archival and new material. Demdike painstakingly assembled and compiled the material for this debut album. And what a weird and brilliant album it is -- deploying a slow-churn opener that sounds like a syrupy Actress track, before working through a brilliantly sharp and tactile nine-minute piano house roller that sounds like DJ Sprinkles, then diving headlong into a heady, Vainqueur-inspired drone-world. It's a confounding album, full of odd little signatures that give the whole thing a timeless feeling completely detached from the zeitgeist, like a sound bubble from another era. This is only the second album release on Demdike Stare's DDS imprint, following the release of Nate Young's Regression Vol. 3 (Other Days) (DDS 007LP) in 2013. Who knows what they might turn up next? Mastered by Matt Colton at Alchemy.
From The Heart, It's A Start, A Work Of Art has its origins in early 2000, before Chain Reaction released the legendary Ship-Scope 12" (later released by Demdike Stare in 2015, DDS 014EP). Three of the tracks here are taken from an acetate cut at Dubplates & Mastering at that time, but which wouldn't see the light of day until now, including another batch of tracks taken from original masters. Only five copies of that acetate were ever made, so this is the first time any of these tracks are available for public consumption, and they rank among the finest and most distinctive in either the Chain Reaction or Shinichi Atobe's vaults. The material is effectively some of the Japanese producer's earliest work, showcasing the sort of tender, feminine pressure that would bubble up on the Ship-Scope EP and later be revealed in his new productions, Butterfly Effect (DDS 010CD) and World yet, for many reasons, they would lay sunk in his archive for the next 17 years. The tracks taken from that acetate are labeled "First Plate 1-3" and really are quite remarkable, having taken on so much character and added weight over the years that the incidental crackle of surface noise imbues proceedings with an added dimension that's hard to fathom. It basically sounds like a lost transmission making its way from Paul-Lincke-Ufer at the turn of the millennium to a new, completely changed world all these years later. The patina of crackle lends a mist-on-bare skin feeling akin to summer garden parties at Berghain in the stepping "First Plate 1", and gives a foggier sort of depth perception to the hydraulic, Maurizian heft of "First Plate 2", but it's the submerged euphoria of "First Plate 3" that hits the hardest; a heady, bittersweet reminder of days gone by. The other four tracks are crisply transferred from master tapes, relinquishing a sublime, impossible to categorize house variant that recalls everything from DJ Sprinkles to Ron Trent, yet with that weird, timeless production tick that by now has become something of a signature for this most distinctive and hard to categorize producer. Buoyant dub house and techno with lush, gaseous synths and keys. Remastered by Matt Colton from original tapes and worn actetates -- grit included; Limited copies.