Experimental Electronic Music
rust/wave, his latest, takes a different approach. The Hamilton, Ontario-based artist has compiled a beautiful piece of ambient work, and rather than introducing itself as some ambient drone or sounding like that, it’s actually really melodic and beautiful. A peaceful listen.
The dubbed-out vocals, the melodic fills, the use of unusual time signatures, these aren’t just technical tricks, they’re emotional tools. The album feels exploratory without getting lost, complex without being exhausting. For fans of drumfunk and the kind of brain-melting beat science that Planet Mu championed in the late 90s and early 2000s, Tessares is essential.
Operating as Simon Pyke (aka Freeform) and various collaborative ventures, unveils Drift Works—twelve fractured post-ambient sketches unfolding in slow, seamless disintegration.
Within that tension between structure and collapse, Sven Piayda uncovers a strange sense of ease. Intercelestial thrives inside instability, shaping corroded electronics and broken rhythmic patterns into something fluid, tactile, and strangely alive.
Graham Dunning emerges with Quern (Jollies Records) from a period of academic research into sound and self-built instrumentation with a collection that feels both tactile and purposeful.
Gridlock’s Trace returns, and this is a classic industrial IDM release. As a reissue, there’s nothing here that’s reinventing the wheel in regards to production, it was released at a time where this type of sound was innovative and thriving.
re[Ø]load presents a focused study in kinetic fragmentation, balancing technical finesse with a visceral, bodily pull that makes its abstract architecture unexpectedly physical.
Lost Hope Society doesn’t deal in easy optimism. Instead, it locates hope as a kind of underlying signal—constant, even when masked by noise. Like Midsommar, it uses brightness to reveal shadow, and in doing so, turns discomfort into clarity.
Two of my favorite sonic sculptors converge as F~M, alias of Roel Funcken and Jeroen Bax (aka exm), shaping Fose into four extended chapters that warp and reassemble rhythmic glitch fragments, threaded with fluid collisions of bass pressure, flickering bleeps, and meticulous sound design.
The resulting experience of Sorry I Didn’t Realize feels untethered from trends or nostalgia bait, instead standing defiantly above contemporaries as both tribute and evolution — easily deserving placement near summit of any Best of 2026 conversation.
Rasmussen incorporates his own vocals more than ever, weaving them seamlessly into intricate electronic textures as he expands his sound into new territory while retaining the subtle restraint that has defined his work.
