Buscar:black zone myth chant

The latest offering from French shape-shifter Maxime Primault (High Wolf, Black Zone Myth Chant, etc.) is both a distillation and deepening of psychedelic soundsystem strategies honed across a decade plus of production and performance, in crisscrossing trenches of vibrational exploration. The four cuts comprising IN D EV IL were born of bass and syrup, designed as anthems for baser desires: “I just wanted to make bangers really.” Alien squelches and insectoid chatter pulse above thick swells of low end, intercut with sirens, screwed voices, and seasick wobble, alternately pummeling and prismatic. Masterfully disorienting, flickering with FX, drops, and narcotic murmuring, at the threshold of dissociative and dubstep.

Recent years spent performing in clubs influenced Primault’s listening habits, both in taste and production methods, skewing towards a starker contrast of highs and lows. IN D EV IL encapsulates this evolution, hallucinatory but urgent, like DJ tools for an underworld afterhours: tight, tripped, and lightless. The EP’s tracks vary in energy and density but share Primault’s premise of “tunes that sound fat and heavy.” Club music as dimensional gateway, booming and liminal, rippling with tremors, texture, and undertow. Whether deployed in public or private, these designs manifest vividly altered states, testament to their creator’s omnivorous vision of rhythm and sound.

The modern, avant synth/dance-pop frolics of ‘Moi’ catch Steven Warwick (Heatsick) at his impish but droll best for PAN. Returning to PAN six years after his standout Re-Engineering album,
Warwick returns to similar zones of enquiry as 2016’s ‘Nadir’ - the first release under his birth name. With ‘Moi’ (which we definitely hear enunciated with a playful pucker), Warwick further emphasises the personal, playful nature of his work with 10 melodic, danceable and pop-tart arrangements accompanied by a range of vocal personas; from his naturally droll singing voice to more alien and leaned-out styles, plus a guest platitude by Turner Prize nominee, Jo Pryde.
Bubbling up with the pickled 2-step and Lolina-esque lilt of ‘Open Fire Hydrant’, Warwick clearly draws upon a UK dance music heritage - and its Afro-Caribbean and US inspirations - with the
freshest, exceptional style that percolates throughout the album, strongly informing its biggest dancefloor highlights such as the warped trancehall bumps of ‘Salvation’ and the crooked crankshaft of ‘Kaleidoscope’, along with the the brittle boned shimmy of ‘Rush’ and the hard but elegant drive of ’Silhouette.’
But they’re only half the story, which really comes together with contrasts in the fizzy downstroke of ‘Kind of Blue’, on the Black Zone Myth Chant-like psychedelic daze and blunted vocals in
‘Consolatio’, and the album’s standout ‘Danke’, which revolves around Jo Pryde’s gentle utterance of the title weft into ominous ambient clag, connoting a sort of humility that knowingly becomes
both less and more meaningful with each reiteration