‘The opener is a statement of intent — frazzled, shuffling drums, ketamine oud, heavy sub bass — something like Wordsound’s Scarab zooming out of the 90s into the future. Tombaroli is a head nodder, with insistent percussion and banging pulse. A lysergic fever-dream, Bullet Holes dips into spooked psychedelia; No Minus sounds like a distant cousin of DJ Premier’s production Come Clean, for Jeru.
‘Channel 83 lands us back in the club for a rib-rattling stomp, weaving mystical soundsystem magic with its stunted horns and swirling voices. The grimy judder of Expect Excerpt slides proceedings down to a bleary-eyed half-speed, like a party which won’t let you leave. Mount Point is a welcome release, an early morning sunrise — rich, slow, and shimmering — before Landings Dub signals the end of the journey with a metallic elegy; both a summing up of the record, and the contemplation of your flipping it, and re-entering the world of Detraex Corp.’

Murder.
Gritty T++ action — twitching and itching, propulsive and dread — with Gavsborg from Equiknoxx at the mic, sounding sexually fucked.
Ace dub, too.

Two deep half-steppers; both killer.

A mouth-watering collaboration; plus flips from Al Wootton and Ottomani Parker.
‘The opener Last Breath is a late-hour pelter: relentlessly moody and hypnotic, with heaving sub-bass pulses. Tunnel Drift switches lanes with its distinctive tech-stepping 90’s throwback style; a forward-thinking take on a nostalgic sound.
‘Al Wootton’s contribution is characteristically fresh and inventive dubbed-out house, with his signature layering of atmospheric textures, and a deep and groovy bassline.
‘After a blissful opening, the Ottomani Parker excursion overlays driving percussion with horns, keys and live hand-drumming; an uplifting finale.’

A stirring, percussive four-tracker. Wintry and submersible; smudged with mist, then silvered and clear as a bell, by turns. Bitten Dream is dark, atmospheric, hypnotic; Via Tekh summons vintage Objekt; Shrine despatches twisted 8-bit granularity into early Livity Sound and Carrier territory; lulling, ambient Catharsis lets go.

Ghost Phone is back! Blowing in from Bristol with another hand of anonymous aces. Glossy R&B in flagranti and off its tits in a dank, heaving basement session.
The opener Hologram is characteristically greened-out: a 160bpm g-funk odyssey for the autonomic massive. Then it’s back to earth with Want U, a nectar-sweet, stripped-back dancefloor heater, complete with tongue in cheek nods to the Jersey Club sound.
Tough, loose jungle breaks revitalise a 90s classic on the flip, in So Gone; before Darkness Finds Home With U wraps things up with dense, heady atmospherics and ethereal vocals.

Big Hands re-united with trumpeter Abraham Parker.
Trialled triumphantly in recent live shows, the opener comes good on the promise of the duo’s triumphant debut for Trule: gliding, hypnotic, and moody, with rueful, burnished brass interjections riding dubwise steppers.
Then a pair of distressed, halftempo d&b rhythms: a call to arms, and a troubled circling of the wagons. Waltz For Matis winds up proceedings with a deep, spooked Fourth World excursion, with skittering marimba.
Another ace EP.

Featuring James Massiah from Babyfather.
The flip is pure terror, with John T. Gast in the mix; heavier than lead, dreader than dread.

“In the beginning of the pandemic we decided to take a turn and move to a small beach close to São Paulo, right in the middle of the rain forest… water definitely took a major role in our lives. We were living right in between the ocean and a waterfall, it´d rain for days on a roll sometimes and it was an open house where we had the sound of rain 360 degrees around us… I kinda think our music has a little of those different dynamics of water in its different states. Also, it might seem strange but São Paulo is a city in the water too, and it has a very chaotic relationship with it.”

‘The music itself is difficult to pin down: always kinetic and driven by fluid, nimble percussion, with a freeness to the sound overall, but also discipline, as the pair harness and channel the elemental force from which they’ve drawn their inspiration. At times the lines between Takara’s skittish percussion and Boregas’ idiosyncratic synth work and sound manipulation blur into flowing rivers or torrents of sound — here, both water and sound have the ability to awaken in us different memories, and emotional or physical states.
‘We could say say their sound contains clear influences from jazz, classic dub, krautrock, and the outer limits of post-punk. Contemporary allies include Holy Tongue, Shackleton, Oren Ambarchi…’

‘Back in the early ‘90s, whenever the pirate radio MC announced ‘a pause for the cause’, I usually pressed pause on my cassette recorder. That’s something I would regret years later, when ad breaks had become cherished mementos of the hardcore rave era. Luckily, back in the day I often left the tape running while I went off to do something else. So a fair number of ad breaks got captured accidentally for my later delectation. Not nearly enough, though. So in recent years I started combing through the immense number of pirate radio sets archived on the internet.
‘A few of my original unintended ‘saves’ and latterday ‘finds’ are included in this wonderful collection, focusing on the audio equivalent of the rave flyer: MCs breathlessly hyping a club night or upcoming rave, listing the lineup of deejays and MCs, boasting about hi-tech attractions like lasers and projections, mentioning prices and nearest landmarks to the venue, and occasionally promising ‘clean toilets’ and ‘tight but polite security’. Some of these ads are etched into my brain as lividly as the classic hardcore and jungle tunes of that time. Names of deejays ring out like mythological figures: Shaggy & Breeze, Kieran the Herbalist, Tinrib, Food Junkie…
‘These ads capture the hustling energy of an underground micro-economy; but most of all they are hard hits of pure nostalgic pleasure, amusing and thrilling through their blend of period charm, endearing amateurism, and contagiously manic excitement about rave music’s forward-surge into an unknown future. The best of these ads give me a memory-rush to rival the top tunes and MC routines of the era’ (Simon Reynolds).

A moody, dubwise, to-the-barricades brew of jungle, rave, dubstep, and techno.
Over the five cuts, an opening, evocative, littoral play between discombobulation and mysticism gives way to mounting abrasiveness, before fetching up in the inner chambers of the temple room, echoing and spooky, with acoustic percussion.

A bobbing, minimal groover from the Berlin corner, dug-in and funked-up over ten minutes; and icily original, top-dog work from Pev, tethered between a kind of arrested Highlife and a Detroit breakout.