Peak Oil News

‘3' saw the core Lifted duo of Max D & Matt Papich unravel their visions of excess into their most divergent and wide-eyed collection to date. Presented here by Peak Oil in a vinyl edition featuring the painting of Jordan Kasey (yes, related to Martin Kasey, saxophonist on 2019’s LP 2) and packaged for a seamless listen.

First scene ‘Chefs’ places us squarely off-center, landing in a cinematic environment that feels a bit like steadycam Luis Bunuel , wine bottle whoo-ing and horn fanfare. Its music without a hard surface, defined more by its fluidity and characters, found sounds and performed dialogue. “Cymbecko” shifts gears into blissful ambient dub, and paves the way for a Luke Stewart led excursion into the uncanny that is ‘Trip Tongue’. Stewart’s upright bass never stops seeking, while Jordan GCZs Rhodes barely touches down before lifting back up into and out of Jacob Long’s (Earthen Sea, Esau) liquid tone sheets. An outside world of percussion accompanies.

The mood morphs and the scene cuts in hard with “Born in the Roof”, slacker techno that grows shimmering parts, Perlon for potheads. Voiceover slacks right with it, a half-convo caught in the billowing chorus of fx. “Macarena” snaps things into focus, working almost like an open window to airing out the heady fog. Simplicity in the vignette.

After “Mecha Perfume & Variety”, “Snow Dancing” reignites the drama, with burning guitar by Jonny Nash taking a plucky and sliding lead over wildly fused drums by Max D, we get a test of new depths for Lifted with the somber and exuberant “Whipped Cream”. Crackling like a radio but with modern propulsion in the form of richly evocative pads courtesy of Motion Graphics, it sounds like a dinner, a space trip, a storyboard, a scene, threaded together in bouncing, oblique ways.

"Bobby V" drops refreshingly, timed like a credit roll and leaving an afterglow that feels more tuned-in than ever.

Players on this album include: Luke Stewart (Irreversible Entanglements, Blacks Myths), Jeremy Hyman, Jonny Nash (Melody As Truth), Jordan GCZ, Matt Papich, Josh Levi, Mezey, Hirama, Dawit Eklund (1432 R), Motion Graphics, Max D, Jacob Long (Earthen Sea, Esau)




d 4.Born In The Roof Radio Mix
e 5.Macarena Radio Edit

The core duo of Max D and Matt Papich debut on Peak Oil following full-lengths for Future Times and PAN with a fresh suite of tactile, diffuse fusion. Half the collection emerged from a 2021 session at Tempo House rounded out by Dustin Wong, Mezey, and Jeremy Hyman, while the rest took shape in moments both collaborative and isolated, collaged together with CDJs into something more liquid and liminal than the sum of its parts.

Across fractured jazz, pitch-shifted downtempo, revelatory guitar, and interstitial interplay, Lifted’s sound is one of flux, fragments, and filigree. Oblique harmonic synergies dusted in chance encounters and rogue acoustics. Diverse moods mapped with split strings and the space between notes. Music untethered by form or expectation, snaking like an ungrounded cable through a geodesic dome of deep-listening.

UK duo Wrecked Lightship debut on Peak Oil with a six-track slate of cyber aquatic alien bass music as placeless as it is precise: Antiposition. Comprised of Laurie Osborne (Appleblim) and Adam Winchester (Dot Product), the pair share a fascination with destabilized rhythm and retro-futurist dreaming, smudging dub, drum n bass, synthetic tribalism, and kinetic sound design into fresh electronic frontiers.

Antiposition both refines and refracts the project’s vision. From wobbly interstellar ascension (“Hex”) and cavernous industrial dub (“Bizarre Servants”) to junglist murk (“Sunken Skies”) and fractal shuffle (“Diminished Ark”), Wrecked Lightship move between haze and hyperspace, mythos and mystery. It’s less deconstructed than reconstructed, fashioned from galactic debris and congealed by the gravity of outer spheres.

The latest by New York-based producer Lamin Fofana further refines his cinematic dialect of fractured soundscapes, displaced rhythms, and tectonic unease. Unsettling scores aptly describes itself: grainy, bristling, and bruised, rippling with dread disguised as grandeur. The collection emerged from an extended reworking of his 2016 composition, “A Symbol of the Withdrawn God,” mining deeper into the piece’s “unvoiced fragments, shards, and utterances.” Other tracks were inspired by recent readings on climate emergency and its “specific implications for Black life, from hurricanes in the Caribbean to mudslides in West Africa.”

Fofana has spoken of his music as part of a “legacy of resistance,” spanning the roots of Detroit techno to the outer reaches of contemporary sound art as championed by his labels, Sci-Fi & Fantasy and Black Studies. His work here vividly embodies that spirit, seven hyper-textural transmissions of rumbling lament, shifting sands, and restless innovation, tracing jagged silhouettes of indeterminate futures: “The instability is worldwide.”

The debut from new splinter alias of Manchester producer, sequencer designer, and Cong Burn label boss John Howes was made entirely on a Nord Modular G2, Elektron Machinedrum, and Monomachine – a rig he characterizes as “an authentic 2006 studio, best listened to on Windows XP Media Player or Winamp.” Paperclip Minimiser’s self-titled full-length collects eight elusively multi-dimensional constructs of stereo panned synthetics and slithering ambient techno, born of a web of generative patches subjected to improvisational alterations. Taking things further, Howes’ process involves “planting ghosts in the machines,” instilling each element with “some self-correcting behavior in a cybernetic / lo-fi AI / semi-autonomous agent kinda way.” The result is an ambiguous and dynamic hybrid of accident and intention, chaos and control, shuffling through an innerspace wilderness of psychic circuitry.

The title alludes to a 2003 thought experiment about the existential risk of artificial intelligence; how even a mundane objective, algorithmically extrapolated, could culminate in catastrophe. Here the notion is inverted, demonstrating the sonic infinities to be mined by “pushing and pulling at the strings” of musical systems. Howes aptly samples a vintage interview with electronic music pioneer Bebe Barron – co-composer of the Forbidden Planet soundtrack – discussing the anthropomorphic potential of randomized audio generation: “We thought of our circuits as actors in a script.” Paperclip Minimiser descends from a similar family tree, coaxed as much as crafted, flickering rhythmic synchronicities glimpsed in a mirage of wires and glass.

Continuing his refraction of the rave continuum into pointedly dislocated, delicately bruising sound system meditations, Low End Activist returns to Peak Oil with a second instalment in his Airdrop series. This time around, he channels the ghosts of foundational tech-step and the quantum leaps of late-90s D&B to provide the inspirational fuel for his skeletal, astral constructions. A strong stylistic thread continues to weave through the LEA output from his earlier self-released EPs and Sneaker Social Club albums, where haunted atmospherics, blown out subs and snatches of breaks dart around each other in empty dancehalls, but the finer point of the sound design and synthesis makes very specific references to landmark moments in hardcore's evolution.

By weaving his own autobiography into the music, the Activist maintains a fundamental theme of his work to date. 'Colin's Golf', 'Smithy's Porsche,' 'Merv's Lazy Eye' and 'Brillo's Teeth' are all personal codes harking back to the formative Oxford rave scene. With the framework in place, he uses textures, timbres and studio tricks from scene-leading pioneers and local heroes of the era as ingredients in thoroughly modernist concoctions. None of the reference points are deployed as literal callbacks — they're waymarkers for the creative process and faint triggers bedded deep into Airdrop II's strange formations. Fleeting sonics might trigger latent memories for those who were there. For everyone else, Airdrop II is another step further along rave's eternally unspooling odyssey, guided by decades of precedents on a path into the future.

The latest by UK rave reanimator Low End Activist is a nine-track suite of skeletal hardcore, pointillist drum n bass, and deprivation chamber dub, chopped and brewed in homage to the countryside sites of golden age dance gatherings: Airdrop. From Waterstock to Yarnton Road to White Horse Hill, England’s early 90’s dance summits loomed large in LEA's familial and artistic landscape as a youth, trading tapes and pumping tunes across long weekend afternoons: “Fast music to soundtrack slow days.”

An atomized stew of stabby samples, bubbling bass, airhorns, echo, and blitzed BPMs, the cuts take cues from key heroes of the “where were you in ‘92” set – Tango & DJ Ratty, Top Buzz, DJ SS, DJ Seduction, Dr. S Gachet – then fling them to the four corners. Skittery, stripped, and elevated, this is mad scientist music of voltage, vision, and rewired brains, scraped to its raw genetic essence and deployed for peak kinetic liberation.