ANFS: #007 (Vanila)

Another fine drop from Athens’s ANFS. ‘Skafto’ slowly ramps it up, with unswerving pressure build; it teases and teases and never really drops. ‘Olatatzi’ is almost like an industrial John Carpenter thing. Small hours urban paranoia, with a phat fuzzed out, druggy, strobe vibe.

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Broken English Club: The English Beach (LIES)

Couple of stand out tracks for me here:

Wreck‘ is admirable for its almost pagan, industrial war dance, round the burning fire, vibe; no hand shake at all, as it lines up the cross hair and delivers the projectile coup de grace.

Carrion‘; nice blippy, early AFX, industrial electro tip with ebm-ish vocal scouring that doesn’t swamp the vibe.

Concrete Desert‘ is my top tune; a looped, nuclear detonation strength, kick explosion that emits a levelling fallout cloud. Bleak, so bleak.

Ghost in the Machine: One Louder EP (Perc Trax)

Another ultra solid and reliable panel bashing party tool from Perc Trax.

The ground hugging fog of the filtered reese on “The Holy Grill” stirs up the stygian rave tension (like a good Reese always should) and unleashes the proverbial dogs of war on the dancefloor. Possibly this betters any of their previous releases on their three 2016 Genosha Basic EPs in sheer crushing precision build? (although “Reverse Cowbell” off GBASIC 001 is still up there I reckon; a really stripped acidic punisher). On this trip the ultra heavy bass pumps the floor with seismic waves while the rhythmic metallic lashing and piston grinding mercilessly flail the top end to brute effect.

Intense, deeply narcotic, doom chug business.

Martyn Hare: Zone 13 EP (Green Fetish)

The Don of dirty, broken beat, industrial techno in my opinion, might even put him over Perc…

“Dreamtime” is so phat you can’t even turn up the bass on the mixer! And it gives me straight flashbacks to mid ’90s Magnetic North/Drop Bass Network et al carnage; all those driven red hot, thrashing machine boxes, barely contained by the producers – any little nudge of a knob just letting loose another flailing, feedbacking, analogue stomper. That’s what it often felt like (for a while anyway heh); a wicked trip to follow down the rabbit hole out on the dancefloor.

From the evidence here, the machines still rule if you know how to harness the energy and Hare truly rinses the fuck out of his! expertly reining it in on a shoegazey, beatless breakdown and then unleashing sprays of sparking, arterial voltage all over the slamming, merciless funk to finish it. Total Destruction! Respect due.