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SHDW & Obscure Shape return to their mothership label From Another Mind with their six-track 'Vergessene Welt' EP, signalling the first material on the imprint for 18 months.

Founded in 2015, the launch of SHDW and Obscure Shape's label From Another Mind saw the Stuttgart-based DJ/producers establish themselves via a wealth of self-released material while welcoming a long list of high-profile remixers, including Rodhad, James Ruskin and Dax J. However, the pair's evolution saw new ventures explored and attention focused wider afield with the launch of their second label Mutual Rytm in 2022. Utilising their A&R skills, the label has seen the duo curate and invite a selection of up-and-coming and established names while also delivering their first EP on the label in Summer, 'Poetic Justice'. Exploring the techno sounds of tomorrow while drawing on influences of the past, the label quickly turned heads and has become a go-to for many. Following a brief hiatus, the attention is now turned back towards From Another Mind as the pair explore their origins and the signature FAM sound once again, opening the New Year with six fresh productions across their 'Vergessene Welt' EP.

Opener 'Planet Der Sturme' is an exhilarating ride through driving basslines, menacing synth lines and hard-hitting percussion to march towards the peak hours and set the tone for what's to come. 'Der Urknall' is a trippy and murky dive through off-kilter textures and regimented percussion, while 'Das Gefallene Konigreich' ups the energy levels further with sharp metallic tones, skittering hats and subtle haunting melodies launching deep into the late night hours.

On the flip, 'Geburt Der Erde' brings a slice of paired-back, groove-led techno as a slick acid line takes control and ebbs and flows throughout the track's six-minute duration, before closing the physical record via the delicate yet compelling sonics of title cut 'Vergessene Welt' - showcasing a deep dive into far-reaching corners of the genre.

Benjamin Damage is back on ARTSCORE with a stunningly crafted record that explores the deepest parts of his mind.

We strongly believe that an Artist should have the freedom to express many phases of his thoughts, and doing it with the power of Techno is one of our main goals to inspire you. Benjamin is clearly on top of his game, and we are proud to deliver something very powerful here, done in one of the most elegant ways.

August Greene culminates years of mutual respect and friendship, channeling the musicians’ various talents into a cohesive project. The perfect marriage of jazz, hip-hop and soul, it’s music that just is. This is black expression the way God intended: earnest, unfiltered, and harmonious. Throughout August Greene, you feel the abundance of Glasper’s rolling keys, the sheer honesty of Com’s lyrics, and the nuanced subtlety of Riggins’ drum work. It’s a fluid sound that’s sorely needed in today’s landscape, and a teachable moment for the next wave of creators. “I feel like we need to set the bar for this generation of musicians and producers,” Riggins says. “There’s a lot of computer-driven music. This is the opposite of that. We’re showing you can still use your creative muscle on an instrument to generate your own sound.” August Greene is a meditative offering that stands tall against the era of “fake news.” “They body snatching black girls in D.C. / Politics and propaganda on the TV,” Common observes on the opening track. On “Nirvana,” the lyricist uses a stuttering percussive loop and faint piano chords to search his inner being: “Thought I was gonna fly when Obama became the king … when it’s all done, will I have heaven’s dress code, and been able to let God and let go.” As Com puts it, Glasper and Riggins’ soundtrack allowed him to open up in ways he hadn’t done previously. Like on “Fly Away,” for instance, where he riffs on the public relationships he’s had. Other songs, like “Black Kennedy,” feel spacious and scenic. “I got to go new places with the music, and it didn’t have to fit within a genre for me to participate on it,” he says. “This gave me an experience I haven’t had in a long time, so I want people to feel that. I want this to be a cleansing of whatever doesn’t feel good or inspiring.” In the end, August Greene speaks to those pushing through the dark for brighter days. It's a masterpiece from which virtue can shine. “I want people to go on the ride and be open,” Glasper says. “We just created and it became a sound. I want people to approach this with an open mind and without expectations.” —Marcus J. Moore

James Curd presents the fourth instalment from his already essential PRONTO label, delivering a hyper-infectious original alongside a bumper pack of top-drawer remixes on ‘I Am One, I Am Many’.

First up, Curd’s original version of ‘I Am One, I Am Many’ bursts from the blocks with its lively tempo and feel-good groove. Built around an empowering spoken word vocal and pitched somewhere in the fertile soil between disco and house, the funk-laden jam rolls over thick bass, dramatic strings and jaunty guitar licks, with irresistible horn motifs lifting spirits as the dance-ready arrangement unfolds.

Next, renegade UK collective Adelphi Music Factory maintain the uncompromising approach that has seen them garner universal tastemaker heat thanks to impactful releases on Shall Not Fade, Nervous, and their own Beat Factory label. Adding weight to the drums, they stay true to the intention of the original, retaining the track’s key parts while tastefully reforming them as an unfettered main room banger.

The UK remix flavour extends into the third iteration, with notorious party-starters Make A Dance continuing their club-focused manifesto with their brilliantly atmospheric revision. Here, M.A.D. carry on the fine work they’ve been manifesting on their eponymous label, constructing an almost entirely new track around the iconic vocal. A contagious organ hook drives the energy as saucer-eyed sweeps and off-kilter synths meander across the panorama, the sturdy house rhythm expertly powering the kinetically charged groove.

Tel Aviv’s Nenor rounds off the remixes, the esteemed producer and DJ showing the kind of sparkling form that has seen his work appear on benchmark labels including Mahogani, Strictly Rhythm, Heist, and Razor N Tape among many others. Transposing the track into deeper territory, Nenor strips back the instrumentation to serve a mesmerising heads-down roller. The vocal soars over brooding bass and syncopated chords, with loose rhythms and subtle textures combining to hypnotic effect.

'Intensely textured, interlocking guitar riffs weave together on New Bright Object, the debut album from Berlin and Edinburgh-based duo I’m Not You.

Working under the name I’m Not You, artist Alex Gibbs (bass & vocals) and sound designer Niall McCallum (guitar & drums) have honed a sound that draws in equal measure from jazz funk of Weather Report and the math rock of Don Caballero. Their debut album, New Bright Object is their most developed statement to date, an intricate, robust and unique collection of songs born from serpentine jam sessions in rural idylls.

The duo make no secret of their admiration for bands like Battles and Tortoise. They reference Jim O’Rourke’s lounge numbers and the droll lyricism of Modern Lovers’ Jonathan Richman. There’s a touch of Vini Reilly in their sparse and serpentine guitar lines. A hint perhaps of Mogwai. All these names place New Bright Object within a constellation of albums made with bigger budgets for wider audiences.

New Bright Object opens In a flash of light, comet-like, with the sound of ‘Mr. Wind- Up Bird’. The threads they weave are full with intent, as moments of density rise like hills from the track’s quieter valleys. It’s easy to imagine the pair looking out over the rolling fields of the garden studio in East Lothian where they recorded the album, as they assiduously try and draw their own landscapes in sound.

Similarly, there is a crispness to ‘A Certain Arrangement Of Atoms’ - every clipped hat, rim-shot snare and tightly wound tom a fine-tipped mark on the score. It is intricate and precise, a result perhaps of Niall’s attention to detail. Then there is the piano, Alex’s grandmother’s, slightly out of tune, which adds a few expressionist strokes to this pointillist composition. The piece loosens, until all we’re left with is the bass.

Although the album orbits around the pendulum sway of ‘The Older I Get’, it is ‘What Cats Think About’ that stands out most. That it does is by design – a nod to the Sun City Girls and albums that like to throw their listeners a curveball every now and then. Pleasantly ramshackle, confusingly domestic, agreeably strange.

All this speaks to the spirit of the album and the creative relationship between two best friends whose differences seem to have been the only things they could agree on.'

Following a first successful 2020 instalment and a contribution to our VA series, Blame The Mono are back on the Taapion mothership to deliver their second household EP. This 4-tracker stays true to the beloved influences of the duo by showcasing multiple genres and heavily using vocals, while keeping a dancefloor-focused essence. ''Sustain The Rigour'' translates the hard disciplined work Blame The Mono put in the studio switching over the techno recipe while keeping its original ingredients. Throughout the coldwave sonic explorations of Forlorn, endless vocal looping drive of Front Left Rodeo, bombastic Moog bassline of Conepusher or the spaced -out garagey vocal chops of Caledonian Woofers, this EP keeps both pace and inventivity rigorously high.

After successful releases on Transatlantic and Monnom Black, German FM synthesis wizard Luca Daniel Schwarz (aka LDS) presents his latest record ‘algo5’. The EP captures a wide range of sonic ground with innovative and futuristic edge.

’nbdfoil’ the opening track starts the voyage with mesmerising awe before sliding into ‘kizzt_VF’ where reality distorts and mind-warping events unfold. Closing out the A side the interlude ‘<13’ stumbles along with playful weirdness and explorative sonic gestures. Back in more familiar territory the B-side’s ‘fl+’ and ‘Vone’ propel dynamic rhythms through the ether until arriving at the final track, ‘mfäg’ where fragmented arps and cinematic ambience give an emotional sense of closure.

LDS’s ability to compose to a high level of depth and intrigue is unmistakably a significant feat for any electronic dance music producer and testament to the possibilities of modern sound design.

Following on from the enormous success of the first release by The Decisions on Soul Direction of two the two tracks “We’re In Love” and “I Love You” comes a second and equally sublime duo of tracks from the same studio session.

Nearly 10 years on since his last solo LP, Berlin techno icon Marcel Dettmann arrives on Dekmantel with an expansive album captured in a flash of inspiration.

In many ways Fear Of Programming is a reflection on the artistic process – the critical hurdles one has to overcome, the constant strive for originality, the ability to capture inspiration in its pure moment of inception. Bar the closing title track (and we all know Marcel loves a surprise closing), these 13 tracks came together during a period in which our hirsute host was able to immerse himself in studio practice and set the intention to record an album’s worth of material every single day. From the resulting mass of work there were many options to choose from, and Fear Of Programming stood out as one of the most complete statements on Dettmann’s approach in the here and now.

Unconcerned with an overarching concept, it was the work in the studio which drove the musical direction. No labouring over knotty arrangements, no painstaking mix downs – just honest expression, a moment caught, a groove locked, a stroke of synth sent pirouetting over a cavernous bed of texture. The results are varied, and while you might well hear plenty of bruising machinations in line with the techno Dettmann has made his name on, there are plenty of other shades expressed across the album.

Ambient sojourns, beatless epics and angular electronica have equal footing with strident, floor-friendly workouts. Standout piece ‘Water’ offers an icy ballet of swinging minimal and drip-drop melodics fronted by Ryan Elliott on lesser-spotted vocal duties, urging, ‘give me a sign, just a little something to let me know that you’re mine’. It’s playful, but still underpinned with the sincerity that comes with Dettmann’s work.

Running on instinct, Dettmann presents an honest version of himself in the here and now, speaking through the sonics and not over-thinking the results. His decades of experience helming a thousand techno parties speak for themselves, while his evolution as a musical entity through collaboration and his own BAD MANNERS label demonstrate his appetite for change. Indeed, the working method which resulted in the album also spurred him on to create a live set beyond his well-established DJ practice. Without resorting to a conceited overhaul, Fear Of Programming opens up the idea of what Dettmann represents in the modern techno landscape.

Presented together for the first time, American composer John McGuire’s Pulse Music series (1975-1979) blurs the popular narrative that Minimalism was a reaction against Europe’s angular, intellectual, inscrutable high-modernism. McGuire, born in California, studied at Occidental College in Los Angeles and UC Berkeley before going to Europe to study with Karlheinz Stockhausen, Krzysztof Penderecki, and Gottfried Michael Koenig. His compositions lock serialism’s warped geometries onto an evenly spaced grid, perfectly preserving serial music’s multi-dimensionality while smoothing its wildest disjunctures and sharpest angles. If serialism is Montreal’s Habitat 67 modular housing complex, McGuire’s Pulse Music compositions are the primary-colored grids of Le Corbusier’s L’Habitation apartment complex — an exuberant expression of the same materials and principles.

Every layer of pulses is made distinct through its timbre, register, and tempo. We hear them as a plurality, organized like stars in the sky. Every so often the sky rotates and the stars appear in a different arrangement. Our ear naturally starts to draw connections and, as it sweeps between one layer and another, what was discrete becomes continuous. Pulses become flows; quantitative reality becomes qualitative experience.