quête:divine interface

Today, beloved DJ, producer and songwriter Lauren Flax announces her forthcoming EP, Out Of Reality out August 6 via 2MR. Much of Out Of Reality’s cohesion comes from Flax’s expansive production, using simple elements to craft intricate backdrops for the questions posed by her songs. On the EP’s titular track, Alejandra Deheza (School of Seven Bells)’s crystalline vocals are woven against a delicate tapestry of arpeggiated keys, sparse percussion and haunting cello. Watch “Out of Reality” here.

Detachment isn’t always detrimental; sometimes you have to step outside to get a better view. Lauren Flax knows this - as a DJ, producer and songwriter, her discography is notoriously genre-defiant, consisting of an impressive array of solo tracks, collaborations, and remixes. The most recent of these – her mesmerizing take on Pale Blue’s “Breathe” - saw her experimenting with a new style of writing. “I wanted to explore that sound more,” Flax explains, “more of a synth exploration, textures with less beats.” The pared-down songwriting approach lent itself to thematic considerations as well: she’d been thinking about the repetitive nature of the life cycle - the Indian concept of Samsara - and felt a general disappointment at humanity’s lack of progress. On her new EP Out Of Reality, she washes that disappointment in lush sonic hues, stepping outside the quotidien for a new perspective.

Though its themes span beyond the scope of our current socio-political moment, Out Of Reality feels, right now, like an especially tantalizing proposition. Pandemic-driven escapism has bred a new crop of otherworldly music designed to transport the listener somewhere better. But Flax isn’t interested in escapism for its own sake - there’s still work to be done here on Earth, after all. Instead, through a combination of live instrumentation and ethereal synths, Out Of Reality grants us a respite from the real so we can return to it with a clear head.

Producer/DJ (and Georgia native) Drew Briggs’ roots in the Atlanta's club scene stretch back over a decade. In that time he’s also notched releases for a number of internationally-recognized labels including CGI, Harsh Riddims, and Two Circles while receiving nods from Resident Advisor and XLR8R. Briggs’ second release as Divine Interface (and first on 2MR) plunges the listener directly into his nightly routine in Atlanta - from club to afterparty to cab ride home.

Born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia, Fit of Body (aka Ryan Parks) is part of a new generation of ATL producers; underground artists who draw on the space and grit of Southern hip hop and team it with curveball electronica discovered on late night, weed-fuelled web trawls.Having honed his sound on a string of feted self-released cassettes released on his own Harsh Riddims label - which has also put out everything from bizarro hip hop to gleaming synth pop - and dropped a hyped 12' released on the CGI imprint, the Healthcare EP finds Fit of Body delivering his most accomplished work to date. Five woozy original tracks jammed out on second hand drum machines, bass guitar, cheap mics and creaking synths, this is techno as it was first imagined; raw machine soul made for strange times and unknown futures.
Finding a commonality between Arthur Russell's vocal delivery, Jermaine Dupri's club shaking bass, and the militant drum attacks of Underground Resistance, the EP ghosts past rigid categories, instead taking a journey through heat and haze. On the A side, Parks switches between the languid analogue house of 56k, the melancholic Drexciyan electro of Ridin 2 That Trap or Die, and the lo-fi post punk grooves of 770-997-2341. On the flip he offers the late night 808 soul of Antonio Girl, followed by the uptempo techno ballad All This Time (Since), a song sad and euphoric in equal measure. On 12', the EP is closed with a remix from fellow ATL producer Divine Interface who stretches 56k into a glistening shard of time-stretched trip hop.

To submit or to surrender? Robert Johnson resident Oskar Offermann doesn’t have the answers, and that’s kind of the point. Things change: one moment you’re touring the globe as a recognizable face of one of the greatest clubs in the world, the next you’ve started a new life as a teacher. How do you handle that shift? On this record, Offermann doesn’t offer solutions so much as trace his own way through it, reflecting the whole process in his music and creative work.

Whatever the story, whatever the case, Oskar Offermann can still produce some of the most emotive, bleepy, strange dance music out there and this 12 inch is the proof. Sonically and conceptually it leans into that precise, melancholic German school: at points drawing from 80s wave and experimental music, then flirting with trancey motifs and closing in divinely crafted breakbeat. In just four tracks it packs in a surprising amount of functional range, exactly what you’d expect from one of RJ’s longest-standing residents. The A- and B-sides mirror each other: they open at full intensity, tempos pushed well past the 130 BPM mark, easy to imagine ripping through a peak-time floor – and still both sides land on something far more personal and reflective.

Even inside a framework of high-intensity club tunes, Oskar’s character shines through loud and proud. Think the slightly disjarring yet melodically captivating winds in the middle of the B1 trance induced number “Accepting”, or the masterfully paced build of opener “Planet Interface”. The same goes for A2 “Televise Improvise” and B2 “Sei mal nur lieb”: on paper they should feel like breathers next to the two behemoths, but they don’t. Offermann crams so much substance and personality into them that they become quietly dangerous. There’s that magical mix of squelchy acid, rough low end and naturalistic melodies on B2, and the relentless emotional drive of A2 “Televise Improvise”. Oskar is really, really good at making dance music irresistible.

Character, skill and honesty in one record, meant for the attentive listener and the brave DJ. A rare combination nowadays, get it fast!