Speedy J's Dub Tool is insane! While from one side you have him taking the dense textures and multi-layered structure of the original to whole new heights of ecstatic tension and dance floor mayhem, from the other you have Jochem taking Beck's sound and further tailoring it for his sound wizardry experiment aimed at pleasing the dance floor. Today's menu has armored dubby beats and rasping centripetal percussion, topped off with crashing, noise barrier piercing snares, rolling basslines and those dense swathes of electronic sound.
His remix just doesn't know how to stop. Passage after passage, the typical accumulation of energy and sonic beauty Speedy J has provided us with numerous times through his amazing career is fully brought to life here. The music just moves, and takes you along, to a higher place via multiple intricate layers giving each other a push in the back!
Top shelf remix from Speedy J, and quite probably his most impressive rework of another artist's track on Electric Deluxe, along with his take on Tommy Four Seven's Surma.

This vinyl is an absolute cult classic and a holy grail among UK techno collectors. I have to admit, like many others are willing to (or not), that I was exposed to this gem through Jeff Mills' "Exhibitionist" mix - a great example of how larger public exposure doesn't always imply exclusively negative connotations - over a year after "The Speck Of The Future" was actually released. The track Contact stood out on that mix like a porn star's breasts would do during Sunday sermons in Alabama. Wow, I thought. Years later, and plenty 'wows' later as well, I got the real thing.
Miyako is a desert island techno blessing, combining cherubic children chants and large scale, lithosphere quivering off kilter beats to jaw dropping effects. I mean - the soul - yet with exuberant energy and overwhelming club devastation potential. From the heart splicing Detroit keys and pads, to the angelic vocals and very 65D Mavericks-ish percussion, this release starts as strong as eighty percent of others wish they'd sound by the time they get to the lead tune.

Flip to side B, and after a roughly ninety second long beatless piece In Reach, we are exposed to the ferocity of the vinyl's most known track, Contact. Bottom line is that this one single handedly scalps approximately every other tune you'd play in the set after, let alone the ones you dropped before. Landing somewhere between a pissed off Downwards camp coupled with the good old pounding CLAU sound or something similar, Contact nails it home big time; break after break, synth stab after synth stab, bass drop after bass drop... Period! There's so much going on here you will have a hard time focusing on one single layer or element. Or you will just be plain busy dancing your ass off! I don't know, O/V's Killing European Sons comes to mind, or some older Blueprint material (Outline and company...) and Surgeon. Electrifying good techno with torrents of ideas, twists and turns. In an unfortunately all too male dominated scene, when you have a woman dropping goods with this much confidence, maybe it's time we start reconsidering things. What a slammer!

Punk Funk is just that. Not quite as captivating as the previous two offerings, but find me something that is and I owe you a six pack of Stella. A quirky bass line is teased by funkier, relatively relaxed beats, and highly resonating shuffled hi hats. It might come as s cool journey back down to earth after the absolutely outrageous remainder of this EP! It just lacks the overall energy or that something extra unusual, like the God sent chants on Miyako, that would make it stay inside my head days after I remove the needle off the records. As for the rest of this record, it has remained somewhere inside for way more than a few days. Try years, instead. One of my absolute favorites. Great news is, word has it that Paula Temple is back, with a new project in the pipe line!

Yeah yeah, I know very well what I said... That the first part of the series was my favorite, but hey, if this one was not yet on the market at the time, I am entitled to a change of heart, right?
OK then, Adam Mitchell really pulls through with the change in sound he started undertaking with this moniker a few releases back.
The ninth installment is the gloomiest one thus far. Worldline is particularly interesting. An eight and a half minute workout of steady deep percussion, spaced out grooves and consecutive and restrained layering. The flow is uninterrupted throughout, at one point during the track the beats 'stutter', creating a sensation of tension segued by a larger crescendo, while it's actually mr. Mitchell carefully adding and subtracting the various passages and keeping the listener glued to the speaker, constantly maintaining a dynamic vibe despite the narrow preogression. Excellent stuff, dark, seductive and hypnotic 4/4 affair which goes on to explore realms far beyond the dance floors! Perfectly produced too, I'd dare say. The arrangement in this number is flawless, every sound falls in its place like it was destiny, not human intervention.

Present Hypersurface is a condensed, droning off beat contribution which explores more sinister musical patterns and abstract shapes and forms of sound. Still deeply rooted in the intergalactic journey story Adam is all about, this one leans more towards the industrial stuff Adam frequently pursued before deciding to create the Traversable Wormhole alias. Regardless, this is a tough nut to crack. Nocturnal and undeviating, the mechanical passages laid out throughout perfectly compliment the hammering beats which leave marks equivalent to those of a rabid megalodon chewing on your Funktion One sound reinforcement equipment.
My verdict: the meanest, yet the best Traversable Wormhole release of them all. Why? Because of the mere fact that Adam Mitchell has successfully matured in this guise, and has skillfully incorporated its principal characteristics into the rougher sound aesthetic he has been known to deliver for years now. Bravo!

This was an unexpected return from a true hero and torch carrier of techno music. The Hyperrealism affair was kicked off some fifteen years ago and has now resurfaced on the fairly little known imprint, Earwiggle. However, keeping in mind whose name is written across the vinyl, let's get down to the bottom of it all: the music.

The title track is a tension amounting minimal banger with an uneasily teasing acid bass line. Steadily rolling techno goodness, with insane bass drops and clinically modulated crescendos/breakdowns throughout. In brief, this is exactly as good as the finest moments of his own Proper NYC back catalog. Steve Stoll is riding the chariots of fire and discharging lightning bolts accompanied by thunder rolls the size of a genetially mutated leviathan.

Machine Riot keeps up the heat level with an incessant chain saw guitar riff like bass line tearing right through the heart, and getting ran over by mildly paced four to the funkin' four beats. Got that right, Steve drops the funk, through aggressive riffs, vociferous layers and inexorable percussion. Bottom line is that Machine Riot will jump start the party like a canister of gin and juice inside Snoop Dogg's Chevy convertible. A true to form slammer!

After an energy overdose provided by the previous two numbers, we're treated to a broken beat piece. Mind you though, as mr. Stoll obviously still knows his acid quite well, dusting off the TB-303 like an old reliquary before an important ceremony. Psychedelic passages, a completely tripped out female vocal and a space age guitar riff. Whoa! This needs to be played on a high quality pair of speakers, in a post peak of the night atmosphere, with the lights dimmed. It will do wonders...

After one too many ambient albums to count in recent years, Steve Stoll hits hard and hits the home run without trouble. "Hyperrealism Part 3" is not only a nod to his glorious past, but a path opener for new exciting undertakings and future projects. For someone who has been around for as long as he has, let me assure you that the quality rate of his material has not deteriorated and that his proverbial diligence and dedication to the music are stamped all over this release. Do not sleep.

At a time when many yearn for originality and a tongue in cheek approach to techno, Ancient Methods have been keeping a low profile, and through nothing but blood, sweat and tears have they created a loyal cult following and have forged a sound equaled by none at the moment. When most toss around the term underground like a deflated ping pong ball, these guys keep their integrity intact and bring forth the gravy, no strings attached.

Their latest, and their second collaboration with techno's stalwart Regis, is no exception either. Do not get turned off by the layout, as the pink translucent vinyl is, well, an optical illusion. As far as the music goes, expect an overabundance of bludgeoning percussion, thorn riddled rhythms outthrusted with retributive ferocity, and twenty thousand aural whip cracks worth of industrial techno mechanics, guaranteeing the deadliest possible impact.

Those familiar with the previous installations of the series know the order of the day by now. Your body crushed. Your cerebrum perforated. Your entire appearance pulverized. Your tomb napalm raided. The end.
Beneath The Black Arch and Between A Sleep And A Sleep have a good shot at the more daring and dusty podiums, where time is not a factor to worry about, and there are no spot lights emphasizing the DJs face. Everyone's confined within the claustrophobic environment of four black walls steadily closing in as the music progresses! Pure raw 'n' rusty tools with a mild tribalistic funky war rhythm, just to keep the dance floor credentials in check. Needless to say, the outcome is on the very high Ancient Methods level.

However, it's She Belongs To Eternity which is gold medal material here. Don't really where to start, as this has got to be the most mental, tweaked out, ambitious piece on the label thus far. An all out assault of tastily appalling noise arrangements, industrial tones making one's flesh insistently creep and tremendous pagan drum rolls causing the trellis-work in medieval monasteries to tremble... This one will just fleece you with a blunt tea spoon. Bottom line: this is hard, yet unlike anything you could have imagined these three lads could have come up with.

AM 06 is easily superior to their Downwards collaboration in 2009. This time around, they all sound way more confident and willing to push the envelope even further. While the "Mat Oput & 1/2" release drew inspiration from the previous Ancient Methods and Ugandan Speed Trials releases, this one does rightfully so as well, but infuses them with a much needed dose of sulfuric adrenaline. What more can I say? Just as anything else with the Ancient Methods name on it, this is a safe purchase.

The mysterious Rrose secured perhaps the most potent release in Sandwell District's recent and glorious history with the thrillingly unrelenting sounds that permeated both sides of Merchant Of Salt. This was soon followed by the announcement that operations as we know it at Sandwell District HQ would soon halt, though the arrival of a new Rrose 12" means when exactly that might happen is anyone's guess. "With All Faces Bleached Out" simmers with clinical restraint, offering several movements in sound sculpture as the needle draws unerringly towards the runout groove. Firstly, arid mechanical textures undulate through the swampy surrounds of sub bass and rippling percussion, seemingly falling victim to the increasing sensation of sonic claustrophobia before emerging midway in the midst of sub aquatic bleepery, only to be dragged back down in the closing spectral moments. Soundwise, somewhere between "Primary Evidence" and the experimentations carried out on "Motormouth Variations". The pin pricking sensation continues with a sense of almost gleeful menace with the two Rrose productions on the flip, though both are pretty much in the shadow of the epic A Side. "White/Drip" has its atrabiliar charms all lined up though. The lapidary tones set right off from the get go meander between likeable melancholy and restrained buoyancy. As it's short, it's just as emotionally charged, dense. A great way to end yet another stellar release by Rrose!

"Merchant Of Salt" is a promising step for Rrose, whose previous efforts have met both critical appraisal and arose the public's curiosity. However, despite an undeniable level of quality, I missed that one last tap on the shoulder in order to give it my full attention.
Well, it seems that I've received on a golden tray what I asked for, ten fold. It appears that Rrose has honed in on the finest aspects of previous works for Sandwell District, and exerted them with richer production values and further exploration of sonic textures.
Whereas "Primary Evidence" had two mighty fine minimal techno work outs on the verge of dubbed out hypnosis, this one exceeds its charms by adding multiple lavish layers, a propeller like bass line, ethereal soundscapes and radar bleeps. The tracks produce an almost trance like feel, with evocative, constantly shifting patterns blended in perfect harmony with the lovely loops and the icy beats. Shepherd's Brine is a true gem.

Flip it over for Waterfall. More of the exuberant techno goodness, which, despite employing 4/4 rhythms, relies more on charming, steady miniscule musical progression, and the gorgeous hypnotic strucuture guiding the music to its inevitable climax some four minutes deep. Once the crescendo is up, the coast back down is mellow yet maintaining smooth continuous micromelodic trickery to the very end. Call the end result narcotic, call it sublime, but this is a 12" to be cherished for months to come.

Imagine yourself on the dance floor, envelopped by a cloud of thick smoke, the people around you are nothing but silhouettes, mere shapes and life forms trying to figure out what is happening, and then out of the blue the most unexpected, bizzare, multi layered avalanche of deep beats and hovering, throbbing bass lines hand in hand with the freakiest, tripped out techno passages just hit you and involuntarily make you move in erratic sudden sweeps... Who cares? No one is watching. Majestic release in my book, and an absolute must buy.

This is indeed a very rewarding album. If "Temporary suspension" was an epic return to form, then I have no idea where to place "The Messanger".
It leaves me ensorcelled after each listen, giving techno music a much needed breath of fresh air.
Although technically designed very much for the dance floor, these tracks surpass the level of a mere tool or adequate techno bomb by a dozen miles. As previously stated, Luke Slater relies on a ridiculous, seemingly endless plethora of odd effects, hooks, sounds and structutal ornaments no one would be ashamed of.

Take Beauty In Fear for example. Can you dig the dynamic range in that track? As it slowly unravels, the amount and the depth of the music is just incredible. It starts out almost as a psychedelic chill work out before eventually reaching a more orthodox techno form. The sounds he introduces and pulls about throughout that one is jaw dropping - I played it out loud on my home speakers and was blown away by the layers and layers just pouring out and wrapping their arms around me!

Then you have stuff like Human Like Us, Call From The East and Motif, which is just pure tripped out psychedelic madness to the fullest. Not really percussively aggressive, just down right dazzling. I am particularly fond of Call From The East, which completely kills it with resonant, reverberating high end bells, giving me the chills as soon as the beat is dropped. In a club, it must be causing mass hysteria, nothing less. People just standing there, with a big "what the phuck was that!?" look on their face and wondering just where that came from.
As far as clubs go, Bell Blocker, Rip The Cut, Black Tea and Cold Bolster bring testosterone 10000 watts of mechanical audio madness to the first warehouse near you! Cold Bolster has an underlying, menacing synth that awfully reminds me of the classic Regis tune Speak To Me. Rip The Cut is loaded with discordant, almost industrial like hisses and rusty surface noise, enabling it to get spun even in the moistest and darkest of clubs!
Kray Squid and Black Tea are fantastic teasers as well. While neither one starts really promising, due to their length, they both patiently build, gradually adding layers and then ending in a totally freaked out, tension meets uncontrollable neurosis aural explosion. Really great material for the dance floors.
The only track which doesn't quite cut it for me is Wriss. Not that it's bad, and nothing on this album even dips its toes in mediocrity, but it's the constantly repeating vocal snippet 'wriss' which grows wearisome some two minutes deep. I am sure it will win some fans, regardless.

"The Messenger" goes straight for the club jugular, and with enough styles and variety to go around three times. It's really seldom these days to find a techno album this sure of its own purpose, this confident of its own might and magic, and this cohesive. Despite a pretty wide range of style and sound deployed, I reckon your money's worth should be found in the super heavy, booming warehouse numbers that occupy half of the album, and leave heavy whip marks and contusions. Best described as a kind of brutal minimalism so muscular that minimalism really isn't the term I was looking for. From strobing industrial assaults to cerebral and corporal dance floor trips and mind tingling sonic voyages, "The Messanger" is, simply put, just tremendously well produced techno, pure of heart and deadly effective. Luke Slater is at the absolute peak of the game, and he's not afraid to show it. And to think it's been more than fifteen years since stuff like In From The Night and Angel Street hit the shelves... I would be surprised if this albums does not a become a reference point some time down the line, in near future.

In my opinion, still one of the most spine chilling moments in techno history. Best of all is how effortlessly it works the dance floor. Marked by steady dispassionate calmness and self-control, both Highway Number 4 and Andromeda 13, as previously stated, build up to euphoric techno festivities through multiple complex symphonic passages, enabling the tracks to actually sound like properly composed electronic music pieces!

The title track is particularly notable, with gorgeously lush pads and heart splitting chords, all spiced up with an actuating bass line which at no time lets the music sound stale and monotonous. As much as I cherish the 'mono' aesthetic in techno, this is one of those moments where orchestral elements are perfectly incorporated into the life of machines and the result is classic. This is a work of someone who not only knows their computers, but is graced with a far broader perception of music and how far can one go with it.
Maybe their finest moments, but it's all taste really. These two have done some great stuff together...

Confused Voltage is the best track out there at the moment. That's all there is to it. Billowing metalism of the highest order, with tough psycho beats punctuated by immense swelling waves and surges of aural filth, rust and steel.
The discordant metallic passage atop is just ridiculous, somehwere between the aboriginal acid on AFX's Didgeridoo and the distorted industrial madness of the more sinister British Murder Boys work. You have to hear it!

This track is an undulating mass of sound which refuses to get by un-noticed, no sir. Ancient Methods have already brought the medieval dungeon aesthetic through the roof, but this something else. Just as demented, yet way more straight up we-run-through-your-club-in-a-gigantic-bulldozer-and-fuck-you-right-on-your-turf kind of techno ferocity we don't get much of these days. The reverberating hysteria of the lead passage is soooooo refreshingly menacing, simultaneously bouncing all over the room off its own strength, or just plain beating you senseless. It's like an immesurable amount of tubular staggings hit the ground from quite a heigth during the process of dismantling scaffolding. You know, large hollow metal pipes banging against each other, making irritant, clanging noise, and all of it is getting recorded in real time by external microphones. Delicious!
Beeks and Trias, way to go. You have yet to make me sorry for ever buying a tune of yours.