Artificial Island :: Another World (Remastered) (Self Released)
Across Another World, Artificial Island keep things measured and textural, allowing minute sounds, gentle rhythms and shifting layers to carry much of the album’s character.
Across Another World, Artificial Island keep things measured and textural, allowing minute sounds, gentle rhythms and shifting layers to carry much of the album’s character.
Six tracks, no wasted motion. ARKADA005 doesn’t revive electro; it plugs it back in, turns the voltage up, and lets the machine speak for itself.
The Cardboard Falcon is a profoundly vibrant, impressionistic, cinematic, slow-moving, and melodically oriented neoclassical album that will lead the listener to a state of serenity and contemplation.
This sprawling, sandblasted opus brings together a stellar constellation of avant-garde visionaries—Meat Beat Manifesto, Proswell, Cathode Ray Tube, AZ-Rotator, Rontronik, ΠΕΡΑ ΣΤΑ ΟΡΗ, Scape One, Roel Funcken, Deru, Kindohm, Vytear, and Robert Logan—each sculpting sound into surreal, shimmering form.
Otero Vargas has created an album that rewards attentive listening without demanding a prescribed interpretation. It is dark, textural, challenging, and surprisingly inviting. Beneath its fractured rhythms and unstable surfaces is an unusually thoughtful piece of electronic composition. Dissonance is a compelling listen from beginning to end and another strong statement from both Otero Vargas and Facade Electronics.
Perhaps this new ROTCORE strata marks Batista’s next transmission. Here, rot does not simply signify decay; it becomes a productive process, a way for sounds to break down, recombine, and regrow. In that sense, IDM(R)ot I treats glitch not as damage to be corrected, but as evidence of life inside the machine—an opening through which IDM can mutate, regenerate, and find another generation of forms to cultivate and explore.
Visible Light did not try to produce an exact sonic replica of El Yunque, but rather focused on the aspects that impacted the musicians the most, just as a landscape painter can highlight aspects of a landscape that a straightforward photo cannot communicate as well.
Across its ten tracks, vocals function as much as part of the instrumentation as they do a traditional lead, with Hammerbell and John Winston Phillips giving each song its own shifting character.
Untitled brings a form of fantasy music where society or environment is imagined in an advanced technological and scientific age exploring the universe, time, future tech, and humanity. The monstrous and crazy hypnotic repetitive sound is the art of the impossible, famously indistinguishable from magic, a way to test new ideas and take tomorrow.
Hana Stretton’s album tiarn is filled with the kind of hazy lo-fi arrangements that pull on the heart strings of sepia toned memories, fading Polaroid snapshots in sound of private moments and community life alike. It’s not crazy to learn that some old family camera footage is part of the inspiration behind these songs.
MEGAFAUNA creates a dark atmosphere using nature sounds and electro-acoustic manipulation to take the mind somewhere it didn’t expect to go. Listening to this at early morning hours, at normal volume, lying down, not fully awake, is a specific and disorienting experience. It’s quite amazing for what it is: a live improvisation built from birds that manages to sound like a horror score composed by the landscape itself.
Kid Bucle, either knowing or unknowingly, takes a lineage built from futurism, tek-funk, broken machinery and the pleasure of the unexpected, then subjects it to contemporary pressure until something new and now begins to emerge.
This is what it sounds like when a producer has a large collection of morning keyboard improvisations, a practice the artist calls “Chaos Works,” recorded daily as a meditative exercise, and decides to present them honestly rather than sculpting them into something more conventionally structured.
Taimela isn’t trying to recreate the 90s IDM and drum and bass golden era so much as he’s drawing a line from it to the present, letting those influences inform his melodic instincts without being consumed by them. There’s a lightness to how he carries all of that reference—it never feels like homework, never feels like pastiche. It just sounds like a producer who grew up on the right records and internalized them so completely that they became his own vocabulary.
That Porous Line follows as a deliberate shift—letting in just enough light to see differently without abandoning the dark corners they prefer to inhabit.