A.Wild plots the course.
Goes Without Saying.
4 intricate signals for late-night movement. Remix from Eversines.
Club Blanco steps into a more finely wired zone with CBR004, a tightly detailed transmission from young Bristol producer A.Wild – a record that reveals itself slowly, layer by layer, like a signal sharpening in real time.
Still anchored with a raw, restless pull, A.Wild works with a more intricate palette here: interlocking rhythms, delicate textural shifts, and micro-melodic flickers that shimmer beneath weighty, rolling low end. These are tracks that breathe, evolve, and reward close listening just as much as late-night movement.
If previous releases moved through the static in broad strokes, CBR004 traces its own circuitry — precise, hypnotic, and quietly complex – mapping new routes through the Club Blanco continuum.
Club Blanco News
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Benedikt Frey supplies the aid kit. Sonic remedies for the night.
4 transmissions for after-dark navigation. Remix from Carl Finlow.
For its third release, Club Blanco welcomes German producer Benedikt Frey. Aid Kit delivers three original pieces of shadowy club machinery - tense, wonky and charged with late-night atmosphere and rugged vocals. Electro veteran Carl Finlow reassembles the parts with clinical precision, crafting a remix that hums with circuitry and steel. Together they form four doses of deep club music.
For their second release, Club Blanco welcomes Odopt. Wired delivers three tracks of raw, flickering club energy, each wired tight with tactile tension. Roman Flügel steps in on the remix, reshaping shine into a hypnotic, precision–built ride. Together they form four shocks of dancefloor electricity.
Odopt is wired. wired into the circuit, wired into the night.
After over 50 events of Bristol's beloved Club Blanco, the city's anointed high priest of night, Chez de Milo, is crystallising his party's dimension-hopping hedonism into a label, calling on an extended family of esteemed producers and musicians to make it happen.
First up is Johnny Aux, aka Quinn Whalley (Paranoid London, Sworn Virgins, Decius), delivering two offerings accompanied by remixes from Jamie Paton and Chez de Milo himself.
Supersonic blends a hyperspace bassline with euphoric 90s synth elevation that delivers us to a blissful dance floor crescendo, where you've been dancing for hours—maybe days— when the sun appears over the horizon and pierces through the club's blacked-out windows. Chez de Milo's re-rub wraps you up vines of a living, breathing forest, where all your favourite flora and fauna summon you to the dappled light of a clearing, front left of the booth.
On The Train locks you into a rolling groove, and electro slaps and smacks. It feels covered in equal parts space dust and the dust of an old crate of records, where this forgotten banger has been buried deep for 25 years, waiting for the right hands to pull it out. Jamie Paton veers off down a stranger track, conducting a driving Italo beat with eerie soundscapes dissected by lasers and a brooding bassline.
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