Posts Tagged ‘Dance’

29th October 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Hungarian-born vocalist, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Áron Siegler has been busy of late. Hot on the heels of the Glitching Sky EP – and I mean HOT, with a mere three weeks’ gap – The Pixel Rain drop their debut album, A Sense of Danger.

It seems that for him, like many of a creative bent, the current state of affairs, globally and domestically has not only instilled a sense of danger, but a sense of urgency. At the time of writing, the UK government has just taken down a number of its sites online due to a cyber security threat, but has added a new ‘survival’ page with a list of essential items it recommends every household has in stock in the event of war, a more extensive cyber attack, or extreme weather disrupting supply chains – including water and electricity. If we learned one thing from the pandemic, it’s that telling an entire population not to panic while giving guidance such as this is pretty much guaranteed to create just that.

This climate of fear and suspense, the sense that we’re perpetually on the cusp of something seismic provides a large part of the drive behind A Sense of Danger, of which Siegler says,

“The main theme was the anxiety about how our society is edging closer to its collapse through politics, social media or climate catastrophes, but there were more personal topics as well simultaneously about toxic relationships, jealousy and a haunting past. Both ‘storylines’ ended up connecting with each other and found their inevitable end by the end of the album, which became surprisingly bittersweet even to myself.”

The musical inspiration for the album is the two-part structure of New Order’s Brotherhood, and he approached the writing process with the idea of giving the record two complementary halves, using the distinction between darker and more uplifting electronic sounds as a loose creative framework rather than a rigid stylistic division. The result, we’re told ‘is a cohesive collection of eight songs that moves through varying shades of tension, urgency, melancholy and melodic warmth’.

Four of the album’s eight songs featured on the Glitching Sky EP, although interestingly, while three of the EP tracks appear in the first half, ‘The Glitching Sky’ is placed as the album’s penultimate track.

This means that EP track ‘Sacrifice’, which raises the curtain on the album, sweeps in with a mix of grandeur and tension. When covering the EP, I described it as an ‘anthem’, and placing it up front makes for a bold, attention-grabbing opening, and the expansive, cinematic ‘Last’ follows, pitching bleak imagery against a thumping dance beat and widescreen guitars and sweeping synths. The production is immense.

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The first of the previously unreleased tracks, ‘All the Lovers’ drives in hard and fast, with some cybergoth / techno drum machine and bubbling bass action. At this point, industrial-tinged goth that takes cues from early NIN and later Depeche Mode has been done and done and done, meaning the field is crowded, and while it might not be the most gripping of the album’s tracks, the quality of the songwriting and the production once again stand out here. The title track closes the first half in grand and ambitious style, with expansive layers of synth once again going wide over a rumbling bass. Here, Siegler’s vocal sounds at it most tense, capturing that anxiety and paranoia which defines the album’s focus – and at the same time, coming closest to a delivery reminiscent of Dave Gahan’s soulful baritone.

The second half certainly feels lighter, more poppy: the rolling tom sweeps which pan through ‘Danse Macabre’ are evocative of arena rock, and the song breaks out into a buoyant Europop bopalong. It sets the tone, and while it certainly fulfils the rubric of the album of two halves, the second, in its more dance-orientated vibes, feels like something of a let-down. Tension and release in itself is often a good thing, but this is feels more like jetting off on a beach holiday in Spain and forgetting all the shit back home. And yes, ‘Pieces of Love’ goes full New Order in the break toward the end.

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I always found New Order disappointing – not simply in the wake of their flight as Joy Division, but for the trajectory they took after their dark and tentative debut, Movement. I feel rather the same way about this album. Hearing ‘Glitching Sky’ in this context, it does sound like a euphoric dance reimagining of New Order’s ‘Temptation’. Thankfully, – I suppose – the last song, ‘All Night Long’ isn’t a cover of the Lionel Ritchie song. But it is a mid-tempo electro-ballad, and anticlimactic in comparison to the promise of the where we started. It is certainly an album of two halves.

The Pixel Rain (Áron Siegler) by Evelina Klimova (Landscape 03) web

Photo: Evalina Klimva

21st August 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

For their latest EP release, prolific Irish electronic / synthwave outfit Tiny Magnetic Pets give us a remix of ‘Lost My Guiding Light’, which first appeared on their second album, way back in 2017. It’s a reasonable amount of time to leave before revisiting a song, and as Sean Quinn (synths, guitar & vocals) explains, “When we play live we like to do different versions from the records. Last year, we were asked to play a dance music festival in Dublin, so we re-arranged the opening track from our second album Deluxe/Debris for an EDM audience, and it has now become the opening tune to our live shows,” going on to add “We re-recorded this new version in 2026 and we feel it is significantly different from the original to warrant its own release and slight re-title: ‘Lost My Guiding Light (Again)’ – a wee nod to Bowie’s John I’m Only Dancing (Again).”

It’s hard to argue that it’s substantially different from the original, not to mention the fact it’s two and a half minutes longer. The rippling, drifting ambient intro is extended out on this new version, and the beats – beefier, more driving – paired with a more prominent cyclical synth motif that owes much to late 90s dance – change the overall feel more than anything, and while the extended mid-section twinkles and shimmers, it doesn’t haver the same ethereal shimmer as the original. This is the trade, and a matter of preference, really: understated textural detail, or a more expansive, sturdier-sounding rendition.

It’s backed with not one, but two remixes of ‘Low Places’ courtesy of Dakeyne. The original was released just last year, as the lead track on the Harmonious Grey EP. A collision of dark disco and electropop, it boasts a thick, rumbling bass sand bops along nicely. Not so much the first of the Dakenye remixes, which sees a hard, industrial-strength beat dominate an extremely busy arrangement crammed with niggling repetitions. It’s clearly more club-orientated, but do such clubs even exist nowadays? Still, I’d take this over the Dakenye Acid Dub mix, which – being a dub – strips out most of the vocals and everything else in favour of the monotonous kick drum, wibbling bass, and occasional incidentals. Maybe Acid Dubs require actual acid rather than a couple of cans of West Coast IPA. Ultimately, this feels like something of a stop-gap release.

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Nocturnal Rainbow Recordings – 31st July 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

The title of Ran Slavin’s latest does, for all the world, sound like some slangy diss.

“I’m getting skibidi rizz.”

“Bruh’s hyper basic.”

“I can’t even.”

“Bruh.”

It’s been a while since I’ve penned any dialogue in a creative context, and it also transpires that it isn’t actually some slangy diss, but precisely what it is remains unclear, and the accompanying notes do little to solidify where we’re at here, focusing on informing us what the album isn’t, and what it doesn’t do, instead of shedding light on its actual objective:

‘Neither functional nor ambient, the album occupies a shifting territory where abstraction and physicality remain in constant negotiation – a deconstructed club language suspended between pressure, atmosphere, and perceptual displacement… Rather than offering release, Hyper Basic inhabits a state of suspension, where signals dissolve into beats, reduction folds into excess, and movement unfolds as much in the mind as on the floor.’

And so, from what I can discern, it doesn’t occupy any particular space, but hovers and ambulates in some ‘between’ space.

The ‘hyper’ seems to relate more to the schizoid energy which ripples through the album’s eight ridiculously hectic compositions. The first of these, bearing the title ‘Ritual Decay’ would, superficially’ suggest some snarling back metal grind, but what we get is some sparse electro groove, and ‘Static Ritual’ is infinitely more Gilles Peterson than John Peel, if you catch my drift. Still, while it may not be entirely my bag, I’d take Gilles Peterson over Jordan Peterson, or, for that matter, Gilles de Rais any day. And we shall move on.

It’s all pretty chilled, but for some reason, I personally find this kind of stuff impossibly tense. When the beats hit, it’s not that I fear bring grooved away, as much I wonder what will happen next.

This is very much a work steeped in the tropes of 90s and early 00s dance music – or, perhaps, more accurately, the sound of more underground club culture. Despite the insistent beats and vocal samples which drift in and out, Hyper Basic doesn’t even for one moment deploy the formula of the monotonous mainstream nightclub thud-thud-thud-thud. So that’s another thing it isn’t – a work of mainstream dance. Rather than glowstick territory, this is chin-stroking territory, dance music you don’t actually dance to, but reflect on, dissect, muse on the dynamics, the tones, the details of the beats, and the vibrations. The arrangements are sparse, and there’s space and separation between the beats and the low-key bass tracks.

There are moments when the introverted shuffles break out into all-out groove euphoria, as on the rushing bomp ‘n’ stop of ‘No’, which builds over the course of almost eleven minutes, but many of the tracks just flick and flutter along while whispers reverberate in the background. On ‘Beta Phase’ the beats turn harder, a thwocking metallic bin lid of a snare cuts through a woozy, rolling bass that’s dizzyingly dense and it’s anything but comfortable – although I suspect many would love it. A looped vocal snippet bobs to the surface here and there, too. ‘Found Luxury’ fires up a snarling, serrated bass which owes more to rock than dance, and it drives through a drifting wash of synths and samples amidst a rather conflict-filled semi-ambient concoction.

As with much of Ran Slavin’s work, Hyper Basic is hard to place, and just as hard to critique, largely because it doesn’t stay in one place long enough to get a handle on what’s happening. There are elements I just can’t get on board with, while accepting it’s a matter of taste, but it’s impossible to deny that Ran Slavin has a knack for bringing a unique slant to the dancier end of electronic music, and that Hyper Basic is anything but.

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The pioneering electronic dance act Lords of Acid have released their third single of 2026. Blending infectious electronic beats, Latin-inspired hooks and the tongue-in-cheek attitude that has made the group a cult favourite all over the globe, ‘El Mundo Está Loco’ (The World Is Crazy) is a dance floor anthem for a world that seems to be getting crazier by the day.

Driven by an irresistible chorus and a playful exchange between Lords of Acid and the New York City-based duo Tony & The Kiki, the song captures the chaos, absurdity and excitement of modern life while inviting listeners to do the only sensible thing left….dance. Because, when the world goes crazy, turn up the music.

Tony & The Kiki blend gritty NYC glamour, disco decadence, punk, soul and high-voltage anthems into an unapologetically queer rock-and-roll spectacle. Channelling the spirit of Blondie, Queen and Scissor Sisters through a modern, theatrical, arena-ready lens, they have built a significant cult following and been praised by icons that include Lady Gaga, Celine Dion, Cyndi Lauper, Grace Slick and even Fred Durst.

It quickly became clear that Tony & The Kiki belonged in the Lords of Acid universe, so the idea of having them guest on ‘El Mundo Está Loco’ felt like the perfect collaboration – loud, chaotic, sexy, theatrical and completely unhinged in all the right ways. The duo also performed as one of the guest acts on the recently completed ‘Cheeky Freaky Tour’ of the USA with Lords of Acid.

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1st May 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Since debuting in 2017 under the break_fold moniker after some time away from music to concentrate his energy on the demands of adult life, Tim Hann has maintained a steady flow of output – not exactly a tempestuous spate, but with the release of an EP or an album every year or two, he’s built a respectable body of work. And over the course of these releases, the break_fold sound has evolved – again, not at rapid pace, whereby one release is a huge departure from its predecessor, but the music he’s making now has developed significantly when compared to the sparse glitchtronica of 07_07_15 – 13_04_16 and 27_05_17 – 21_01_18.

Hann continues to mine his memories and experiences for inspiration, serving to document his life through sonic abstractions, an aural memoir of sorts. The Tracker EP is a counterpart to its predecessor, The Planner EP, as he explains:

“The Tracker EP is a reference to my Dad, who gave himself nicknames that others in the family then started using,” Tim explains. “‘Tracker’ is a reference to his persona when on holiday or away from work. If we were on holiday and were trying to find a place of interest, he’d be in Tracker mode. Planner is when my Dad was at work.”

Families are strange, but it’s only as one grows older, and when one takes a step back to reflect on formative experiences that it becomes apparent just how strange. As a child, you assume your family life, and your parents, are normal, and that every other household is the same, at least more or less. Over time, you come to consider the things some of your friends’ households do are weird. And they probably are. Mealtime rituals, Easter, Christmas traditions… but it’s likely not until later, after leaving home and starting your own family that you begin to analyse your own upbringing, and to compare the relationship you had with your parents growing up to the one you have with your own children.

I’m often startled by just how close to their parents a lot of my friends are, and how much time they spend with them. But then, they also stayed close to their parents geographically, living just a few streets away, with their parents providing child care and doing school runs several days a week. And that to me seems strange. I’ve no issues with my parents, but my main aspiration growing up was to attain independence and live my life in my own way.

As the accompanying notes add, ‘across the EP, break_fold ties together nods to family sayings, misheard phrases, and the small but defining details of growing up in the North East of England in the 1990s… for Hann, both Planner and Tracker serve as time capsules; deeply personal yet universally resonant snapshots of childhood, family dynamics and regional identity’.

In this context, the details matter. None of the inspiration is rendered explicit on Tracker: instead, what we get is a sonic articulation of all of this. And it works. You may not take away the intended interpretation, but that’s both the beauty and the downside of a project like this: it’s as much about the listener’s experience and input as the artist’s.

‘Pet’ amalgamates an almost club-friendly dance sound with a trawling, trudging grind of a foundation, while ‘Climbing Flowers’ pairs soft synth washes that hover between Krautrock, ambient, and prog, with flickering, fluttering beats, low in the mix, fading like memories around the midpoint. ‘Workie Ticket’ – a term I first learned on my thirtieth birthday in a pub in Conwy, Wales, where, having climbed Conwy mountain, I had a bowl of chips and a pint of Mordue Workie Ticket – brewed in North Shields. While the meaning and use of the phrase seems varied, it’s most definitely a North-East thing. There’s a trance-dance vibe to ‘Carrying On’, although the bass and overlaid guitar are more post-rock, and what we get, ultimately, is a hybrid.

The Tracker EP doesn’t sound confused as much as a work that’s deeply immersed in the process of processing, bringing together disparate elements in order to sift through an array of stuff. ‘This Concept of Sharing’ is upbeat, light, accessible, even danceable, but there’s a sense of something darker beneath the surface, and this emerges on the final track, ‘Every Penny’s a Prisoner’, which swerves and bends and twists and warps, but all along rides a pulsating groove pinned in place with a whipcrack snare.

It’s hard to place The Tracker EP. As much as its ambient, there are harder dance elements in the mix. But for all its surging buoyancy, there’s a tinge of sadness beneath, and the complex twist of inner conflict and uncertainty. On the surface, The Tracker EP sees break_fold bursting out in a bloom of elation, but there are currents beneath which are deep, and darker, perhaps revealing far more than is ever rendered explicit.

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17th April 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Either the members of Karobela – who are jointly credited with the lyrics – have had some really shitter personal experiences, or they’re keen when it comes to observing some of the more negative aspects of relationships and social interaction.

Whereas previous single, ‘Afterthought’, which came out in December, dealt with being dropped, forgotten, kicked to the curb, ‘Love Letter To No One’ explores, as they put it, ‘the profound emotional turmoil caused by the contemporary issue of ‘ghosting’, capturing the lingering heartache it leaves behind’.

In name, ‘ghosting’ is very much a contemporary issue, and certainly, it’s easier to vanish virtually than in real life. It’s hard to ghost someone who works in the same office or whatever. But in the pre-Internet days, people would just stop writing, stop phoning, and you couldn’t even search on Facebook to see if they were still alive. But one difference in that is the time delay, in that you’d wait days, weeks for a letter, and the time span of the uncertainty was something which elongated gradually: there were no messages unread, no disappearing profiles. And as we’ve come to depend on immediate back-and-forth, even a minute waiting for a message to be picked up can feel like a lifetime. And it’s this angst which is the subject of ‘Love Letter to No One’.

It’s a step up in terms of ambition for the band, being the first track in a projected four-part narrative following the romantic experiences of a female protagonist, and musically, it’s got some beef to it, with a chunky riff and strong vocal delivery that does convey emotional turmoil. In many ways, it’s rock music of the kind that you don’t hear so much at the moment. That said, it’s driven by a disco-tinged beat and has more of a dance-leaning breakdown in the middle.

With a chorus that’s all hook, and tightly packed into a fraction over three minutes, ‘Love Letter to No One’ is a work of precision, and a first-rate single cut.

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The experimental electronic duo of Craig Dunsmuir and Sandro Perri reimagines an Arthur Russell track, with longtime Russell collaborator Peter Zummo guesting on trombone.

‘Lucky Cloud’ is the opening song on forthcoming album G70 2: Bones Of Dundasa out 1st May 2026.

“’Lucky Cloud’ serves to bookend the whole project in a way, since it’s the new album’s first recording chronologically (from 2004) while also containing its last recorded element (Peter Zummo’s trombone from 2025), making it simultaneously the oldest and newest track on the record. Thanks and gratitude to Peter for his key contribution, to Steve Knutson for approving our cover of the song, and to Tom Lee and the estate, memory and legacy of Arthur Russell. – Glissandro 70

Hear ‘Lucky Cloud’ here:

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20 years after its self-titled debut, Glissandro 70’s follow-up straddles the Album and Archive: a decade’s worth of recordings that were abandoned, lost in a hard drive mishap, recovered in the form of rough stereo mixes, reappraised with the balm of time, and restored/augmented/enhanced to forge a captivating new LP.

Glissandro 70 is the collaboration between Toronto musicians Craig Dunsmuir and Sandro Perri, first formed in 2003 as a mostly studio-based project of longform loop-based guitar and rhythm-driven experimentation. An eponymous (and up to this point singular) album appeared on Constellation in 2006, blending Dunsmuir’s afrobeat and Perri’s tropicalia influences through their shared reverence for Arthur Russell and dub techno.

While continuing to collaborate musically and foster a close friendship, Dunsmuir and Perri largely went on to helm their own projects thereafter. Perri transitioned from his ambient electronic sobriquet Polmo Polpo to a string of acclaimed singer-songwriter albums under his own name starting in 2007, with a side quest as ringmaster for the inscrutably leftfield electronic collaborations of Off World. Meanwhile Dunsmuir continued deploying lo-fi loops and broken beat iconoclasm as Guitarkestra and Kanada 70 (whose early tracks provided the original birthplace of Glissandro 70) and intermittent live concert Hi-life extravaganzas at the head of Toronto’s Dun-Dun Band (recently captured on wax for the first time by Ansible Editions).

G70 2: Bones of Dundasa arrives 20 years after the Glissandro 70 debut as an archival celebration, revisiting unfinished paths and re-assembling rediscovered recordings originally made between 2005 and 2015. The new album includes a cover of Arthur Russell’s ‘Lucky Cloud’ (augmented by Peter Zummo’s trombone newly recorded in 2025) and a previously unreleased Dan Bodan remix of the debut record’s ‘Bolan Muppets’, alongside 10 tracks of sample- and beat-based vignettes brimming with skittish guile.

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20th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

With his debut release, Abel Autopsy makes his ambition clear, announcing that uunder is envisioned as a journey within a three-part series, with the next two releases in the series being overr and outt, and promising ‘dark, melancholic, shapeshifting worlds that slide between light and shadow’. Although the inconsistency of the double letters on this first release from those projected to follow disturbs my sense of necessary balance, I can close my mind to it while opening my ears and concentrating on the music.

The nine tracks take the form of layered, atmospheric synth-dominated compositions, and Abel Autopsy sets out the context for these thereal works, which evoke haunting (super)natural landscapes by electronic means.

“This started in my youth – pulling apart various musical instruments (battery powered) while in the woods of Appalachia. There was an eerie, ethereal vibe almost like something ‘other’ in the wilderness with me. That permeates through all of the songs and is woven in the mental tapestry throughout. This album is an exercise in capturing that – the balance between light and shadow, feeling another ‘presence’ with you that is not entirely from here.”

The vocals on ‘ghostride’ are muffled, indistinct, the words – if there actually are any – indecipherable, serving more as another instrument than anything else. The pieces are bold, sweeping, cinematic, the ambient tendencies given form by solid mechanised beats which are up in the mix. ‘unfound’ and ‘gates’ land in the space between later Depeche Mode and Nine Inch Nails, the latter also spinning in dance tropes and the haunting monasterial sounds of Enigma music.

He is very partial to the big thunderclap blast when making a change in key or tempo, or simply stepping up the drama – perhaps excessively so, as there are moments when things do feel a bit formulaic – something compounded by the comparative uniformity of the track durations, which are all within the range of 3:01 and 3:37 (three of the nine have a run time of 3:37).

‘mycenae’ tweaks the template to accentuate the contrasts between light and dark and thanks to a super-full, extra-low bass, goes darker than anywhere else on the album, and the crackling static which fizzes through the introduction of the heavier, more distorted ‘nihill’, which concludes the set, brings a sense of decay and a doomy finality.

There are some neat ideas spread across uunder, and the execution is similarly neat, with a clear attention to detail. More variety, particularly in terms of tempo and dynamics would likely create greater impact, but it’s a promising start, and it will be interesting to see how Abel Autopsy evolves over the next instalments of the trilogy.

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Electronic artist SINE (aka Rona Rougeheart) has today released ‘Cruel’ as a new single on Metropolis Records. It follows the recent ‘Blood + Wine’ as her second self-produced track of 2026, with Rougeheart stating that the song “about people who purposefully choose to be cruel to others. The words are both sarcastic and serious and I like the contrast of the lyrical content against the upbeat nature of the music, which otherwise makes it a fun dance track.”

Mastered by Mark Pistel (Meat Beat Manifesto, Consolidated), ‘Cruel’ remains true to Rougeheart’s ‘electronic boom’ style while remaining modern and club-ready. It is the final single to be issued from La Mordre, a brand new SINE album out on 22nd May that also includes the previously issued ‘Trauma Bondage’

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13th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Polevaulter are very much a band of the times. The cost of living and the fact bands make no money has driven a marked shift towards duos and power trios, and notably electronic music and drum machines have become popular again. The less kit you’ve got, the easier it is to rehearse at home or in a small space, there’s less to the logistics of getting a smaller number of people with minimal gear around (hell, the logistics of getting people in the same place at the same time around work and family and all that shit), and any fees and proceeds from merch are split fewer ways. Necessity and invention, and all that. And notably, there’s a lot of angry electro-led noise coming out of the north. Benefits are clearly up there in representing this thing, which isn’t anything like a movement, any more than the emerging goth scene in the 80s was a movement, but an artistic current, a zeitgeist. But we also have the likes of The Sick Man of Europe, Machine Mafia, and Polevaulter. These guys are something of the exception, in that they’re a shade dancier, but given the buzzing bass fury and relentless rage in the vocals, they’re never going to trouble any regular townie nightclubs, let alone any charts or Radio 1 Dance.

On the new EP, Polevaulter frontman Jon Franz said, “’Descending’ is our most cohesive and controlled EP, and also the most raw and direct. We wanted to reach people immediately, give them something to quickly digest and then say exactly what we wanted to say. The vocals start quick in each song. It progresses down through the EP into an anxious rave, the themes about being lied to all your lives and believing what you are told coming from power down to the working people. It’s our darkest and danciest EP I think.”

And so it is that with Descending, Polevaulter deliver four ultra-taut and super-succinct slabs of electro-led abrasion. ‘The Cursor is a Fly’ makes for a comparatively gentle introduction, before the grinding ‘Dogtrack’.the woozy, bulbous subsonic bass is pure dance, but the snarling, disaffected vocal is punk to the core, Franz wheezing ‘Just trying to buy a house, now let me have it… dogtrack… gamble… run down… dogtrack… going round and round and round…’ It’s bleak and hypnotic and bleak and hypnotic and… you get the picture.

‘Manifest’ mines a dark dance groove with a vocal that’s bordering on spoken word, and calls to mind the short-lived and criminally underrated York band Viewer, the technoindie collaboration between the late cult techo legend Tim Wright and vocalist AB Johnson. In other words, it’s a well-balanced hybrid, where thumping beats and techno synths collide with a vocal that draws influence from Jarvis Cocker and Mark E. Smith. ‘I’m going down with the ship’, Franz announced against a clattering backdrop of snashing metallic snare drum detonations and rapidly-shifting synth gyrations.

The final track, ‘Soothsayer’, is the EP’s longest, and a sparse, haunting intro paved the way for a dark, reverb-heavy electrogoth groove with hushed, hypnotic vocals over an almost subliminal bass groove cut through with a heartbeat kick drum and smashing snare and builds to a tense, suffocating climax.

These are dark times, and it is definitively grim up north. Polevaulter provide a soundtrack to this, while countering bleak nihilism with some almost euphoric dance synths. Descending offers escapism in the same space as the darkest pessimism. The conflicts and contradictions are navigated successfully, though. Polevaulter have taken a massive leap here, and really gone beyond their previous works.

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