After a series of successful outings alongside sidekicks Ofofo and Zongamin, studio wizard MYTRON turns in his debut solo full-length for Multi Culti World Records. With contributions on Invisible Inc, Calypso, Bongo Joe, Kalahari Oyster Cult, LYO, Codek Records and Earthly Measures, Mytron has carved out a name for himself in a carefully-curated left-field quadrant of the indie-dance galaxy. Tuning his oscillators to myriad sounds — from dub and disco to krautrock — the London-based producer perhaps most notably channels the pristine compositional style of Kraftwerk. While most apparent in the use of vocoder, there’s a consistent efficiency of arrangement that recalls the man-machine in effervescent, idealistic fashion. Mytron manages to keep it simple, funky and musical — whimsical tunes that bop along with analog grit, wilderness, and wonk. There’s a warmth and wit that shine through every synth line, an understated confidence that speaks of years spent tangled in wires and waveforms, with an inclusive sonic eclecticism that flattens hierarchies between genres, geographies, and generations. Each influence is invited to the table, treated not as pastiche but invited to dine and dance in a space where kosmische dub disco and Afro rhythms can coexist without borders. The sleeve design echoes this philosophy: video-feedback patterns hinting at our modern screens, both portals and filters — coloured, distorted intermediaries through which we perceive the world. In the trippiest sense, the record is both reflection and refraction — a sonic mirror held up to an interconnected, glitchy reality. Tailored equally for DJ use and home-listening head trip, the album is meticulous, mischievous and merry.
BanBanTonTon review:
On Mytron’s debut long-player for Multi Culti groovy 21st Century leftfield house gear collides with Daniele Baldelli and Beppe Loda’s hugely influential `80s afro / cosmic. The 9 tracks are chunky, chugging and full of funky, funny noises. Old school B-lines mixing with eccentric electronics. Spinning, spiralling sounds.
Sugar is an electro-pop, vocoder confection, cut from the same sonic cloth as cult classics like Codek’s Tam Tam. Created from tough trap drums, splashing effects and a mutant Giorgio Moroder bass arpeggio. The title track, Propellor, pits Kraftwerk-esque hardware harmonised vocals against a bongo loop and a whistling hook. Playground has simian shrieks surround tumbling tom-toms. Highway Maintenance adds kosmische synths to a dance of woodblocks and buzzing bottom end. Keep On Dubbing is an organ-led, clip clopping percussive canter.
Tracks such as Speaker Can Talk, shot through with disco lasers blasts and recalling Curt Cress’ Dschung Tek, also lift the tempo up, but the bulk of the music here is a mid-tempo, techno drum circle. Squelchy sequences gurgling in and out of programmed percussion. On Quasar, spiky acid edges in and slowly takes over.
Key references that come to mind are Baldelli’s own turn-of-the-2000s Cosmic Sound Project productions, and Wolf Müller’s scene shaking sides on Themes For Great Cites, from around a decade later.
