Experimental Electronic Music
After decades of quietly shaping the electronic underground, the Dormon brothers return with Colour Kinetica—an album that distills their legacy into a vivid, forward-facing statement. Multiplex’s latest stands as both a culmination and a rebirth, earning its place among the best of 2025 with precision, emotion, and enduring vision.
Denmark is a six-track journey through ambient-inflected IDM, where emotion meets machine in concise, richly textured vignettes. Blending fractured rhythms, synthetic warmth, and glitch-laced nostalgia, it captures fleeting moods with both precision and heart.
Nazareno [bassi] delivers three inventive tracks on a limited 8″ lathe cut for No/Tempo. From glitchy bursts in “Discussion” to the warped vocals of “No Now” and the funky breakbeats of “I Love Tempo,” the release blends rhythmic chaos with electronic innovation, adding fresh energy to Adepta Editions’ Atanor Collection.
Erratic and unsettling yet undeniably gripping, this set builds upon warped foundations of industrial dub, mutated jungle, and disfigured hip-hop structures. It’s an excavation—reaching backward while marching toward a future of controlled chaos and sculpted dissonance.
Downtempo currents rise and recede, while fractured synth odysseys hold everything in a gravity of their own. It’s future-facing, deeply textural electronic music—crafted by a multidimensional talent—and a work that resists erosion.
As Drownded flows, it wavers between freeform exploration and meditative stillness, riding an arc that’s as hypnotic as it is grounded.
Poised between sci-fi drift and ambient disintegration, this collection stands as a sleek, introspective traverse—shaped by three luminaries of experimental electronic art.
A frenetic voltage crackles—diffuse yet finely honed into serrated, dub-drenched silhouettes—across Protected by The Mellowtrons (aka Lee Walker).
Boards of Canada’s Music Has the Right to Children stands as a quintessential cornerstone of downtempo electronic music—a seminal release that propelled the enigmatic duo of Mike Sandison and Marcus Eoin into a boundless realm of nostalgic reverie. In this edition of our “Flashback” column, Anne Jackson revisits the album’s haunting landscapes, with particular focus on “Telephasic Workshop,” a track that encapsulates a paradoxical beauty: at once claustrophobic and transcendent in its sonic intricacy.
These works feel like sonic residue from a scorched reality—assembled gradually, layer upon layer, into contemplative yet fractured shapes. MVW crafts immersive, multidimensional pieces where evolving sound design breathes slowly, alternately swelling and dissipating, constructing only to deconstruct.
Helemental doesn’t shout; it glides. It evokes connection not through force but through familiarity—like stumbling upon a memory long tucked away, warm and faintly glowing. This is an album that hums gently with presence, a quiet reminder that something beautiful still lingers, waiting to be heard.
