Beyond the realm of music, a pivotal chapter has unfolded in The Recluse’s journey. Facing the necessity of surgery for an inguinal hernia, the artist, hailing from the demanding manual labor sector, anticipates a hiatus from work. Devoid of paid time off, sick leave, or health insurance, the artist humbly seeks support to ensure the continuity of essential expenses during this challenging period. Your assistance could make a significant impact. Extend your support through this critical phase by visiting: gofund.me/5bcf3198
Diving into the intricate realms of sound, The Recluse emerges as a pseudonym employed by the ingenious creator steering the helm of the post-punk/wave masterpiece, Human Figures. This multifaceted artist’s journey extends beyond, leaving an indelible mark through past musical endeavours as Daniel Holt and Death Posture.
Beyond the realm of music, a pivotal chapter has unfolded in The Recluse’s journey. Facing the necessity of surgery for an inguinal hernia, the artist, hailing from the demanding manual labor sector, anticipates a hiatus from work. Devoid of paid time off, sick leave, or health insurance, the artist humbly seeks support to ensure the continuity of essential expenses during this challenging period. Your assistance could make a significant impact. Extend your support through this critical phase by visiting: gofund.me/5bcf3198
Reel By Real aka Martin Bonds from Detroit comes with three new original tracks on a.r.t.less, harnessing extra terrestrial vibes combined with Detroit Techno and Electro magic. The EP is completed by a stripped down space funk remix from label boss Don Williams.
UK based lovers of all things Electro, Hybrid Collective have assembled their first compilation on Vinyl. Present are heavy hitters such as Arsonist Recorder, Ekata, Kim Cosmik, The Droid, Broken Joe and Science Cult’s Syrte with dance floor ready electro stormers.
Mike Inzinger from Vienna presents his third solo release, featuring three Detroit Techno tracks of classic Robert Hood minimalism style and 1 Electro track.
Japan’s Katharsis Recordings turns to Sabatoj to offer up two deliciously deep techno cuts. ‘I.C.U.’ is a heavy, slow motion roller with a grinding bassline and an eco-system of deft cosmic designs peeling off the groove. ‘Missing Man’ is slightly more speedy but no less heavyweight with its wall-rattling bass and rising sense of tension. Mike Parker steps up to remix on the B-side and does so with wiry and futuristic electronics and Kannabi keeps it heads down and moody with his remix.
Another instant classic electro-techno banger from the mind of Erik Travis. Ever since his first release in 1987, Erik Travis has become well known for his individual style consisting of pared-down, up-tempo drum programming, short vocal samples, and synth stabs.
Mini-album releases featuring a collection of 5 tracks from the Sound Metaphors catalogue masterfully remixed by Anatolian Weapons. Sound Metaphors gives their keys of the label’s catalogue vaults to Aggelos Baltas aka Anatolian Weapons and this is the result. 5 tracks previously released on the labels now submitted to the studio prowess of the Greek machine. Dubbed out, tripped out, slowed down, sped up, mind blown. Aggelos brings his distinctive flavor to the table and re-constructs some of our dacefloor oriented favorites from the early 90’s.
Close your eyes and merge into Benedikt Frey’s ‘Fastlane’. Imagine sitting in the driver’s seat of a an automobile, one with exceptional horsepower and torque, as you stare out the windshield at the red light, warping in fata-morgana a mile down the road. It’s a straight-away, a black top with two lanes, and against your better judgment you decide to floor the gas. No hesitation in your muscle, your ankle or the ball of your foot, which you now realize is some kind of universal pivot, the first point of contact fusing your body with the will of machine. In this moment you’re in awe that you, a human, an animal, grew from pond scum into something so advanced as to engineer this thing, a mechanical beast capable of overwhelming power and exhilaration. But you also feel a seductive dread, an outside force diverting you from caution toward a dangling carrot of curiosity, asking yourself, ‘How far can I take this thing?’ The dread, now a constant, is numbed, equalized by an adverse intoxicating gratification. You feel both sensations in real time, however, rather than take responsibility for yourself, friends, family and innocent bystanders, you cement your foot to the floor and lean your head back. Noise around you fades to mute. Smell the benzene-scented air, feel the wind on your face, the menacing vibration of the vessel you control beneath you and every grain of asphalt under its tires. This mile has now lasted an eternity and you’ve left your body for some objective view, as if watching climax of a film. Past the point of no return, you embrace abandon and lean into fate. The film becomes slow motion, a crawling pace so mesmerizing you convince yourself of an option to eject yourself from this madness, but as you finally let go of your last morsel of fear, you run the red light head-on into the nucleus of a fantastic glistening sculpture of torn metal, glass, oil, broken dreams and heartache. ‘Fastlane’ may be just drum machines and synthesizers if you’re timid, but listen harder and know the catastrophic reality of existence, a wreckage so gruesome we dare not rubberneck, but afterall it is our nature to stare.
