inspired by life on the touring circuit, this ep takes its name from a night the producer spent in sliema, malta. produced to mirror the frenetic movement of (night)life on the road, the album jumps violently between poles of darkness, familiarity, paranoia and comfort in the club.
elegies-in-waiting to the monotonous dread of exploitative labour, dosed with elliptical distortion, industrial noise and ear-crushing bass. in the lineage of pan sonic, sun o))), and the more gruelling scott walker productions. vex d veteran roly porter drops by with a sci-fi reinvention of council flat, trading in if s mogadon footwork and megaton polyrhythms for a less apocalyptic, more introspective blend of modern classical, dark ambient and dirty stinking breakbeat. pressing on 180 gram vinyl.
this release captures kicks, rhythms, and snares—only to drag them kicking and screaming into a metallic underworld. in j. tijn’s echo-sphere, there are only allusions to the status quo of sound and beats, and never a full-fledged embrace of the conventional. on side a’s “kanon v.i.p.” a grizzly digital war is left to play out between both kick and snare, with grainy battle lines drawn around upbeat and downbeat. survivors of the conflict are rewarded with a groove reminiscent of grime, if only the genre had been reborn in a dystopian future. side b opens with a roughneck beat on “mor” before turning its hand into a fist and effectively destroying its own image. the groove lives through this barrage of sound, but as a heavy and dark undercurrent just strong enough to remind you where j.tijn’s roots are. “shy” lures you in with a rounded electro kick, before glutting the rhythm and ushering in a wall of sound. a snowstorm of screaming drum samples proceed to surround you: you may have been here before, but you are somewhere rhythmically unseen. embedded in all of these tracks are perhaps a sign of the times: the things that used to be seen as normal have now changed and mutated.
four labyrinthine excursions in psychedelic techno, from antonio marini. take a step back... move to the side, just a touch... there... acid, dub and free jazz, focalising like heat blisters, then healed in a flash. wayward flow, for example, with the ghosts of double bass and bongos swirling in from the margins. entheogenic freak-outs, with the left profile of robert hood, the right profile of vangelis. pressing on 180 gram vinyl.