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Omako Basoa

Introducing LYNCH, the new EP from Shubostar and the first release from French label, Ano Ano. The South Korean producer based in MXC unveils her latest EP "Lynch” where Sci-Fi and Dark Disco collide.

Following up the inaugural release by Braintalk, Zurich-based label Human Sense Technology returns for its second edition here, this time from hometown hero Dan Piu. He rebooted his career after a 16 year hiatus a few years ago and has been more prolific than ever, with releases on Childhood Electronix, Cartulis, and Hizou Deep Rooted Music. The Modern Utopia Thoughts EP is dedicated to his youth and influenced by future visions of creation, featuring early '90s UK techno sounds that are very much in fashion at the moment ('Dysfunctional / 'Libertarian On A Mission') deep subterranean 303 acid journeys Modern (the title track) and classic Chicago house tropes as heard on 'The NATA Liaison'.

CALLING ALL FRENETIC LOONS - cursed to strut on thy toes, or to point them to the sky. Has a lack of dance based activity made you weary? The deprivation of bass inflected oxygen surging thru your body resulted in a euphoric fatigue? Well rise and shine all youSpiritually Deluded kinder, the hit parade is back, with Roza T & D. Tiff tip-toeing in with 8 tracks high in kinetic synergy and low in “bOriNGG!!”. The sound of 2 artists; serious in their intent yet blowing raspberries at the cork sniffers/snobs, obstinate to the world of industrial decay press shots + plastic ravers. Instead they straddle the Edge of Innocence. Residue of lines once written, now your own personal tightrope. You wobble to and fro as part of a troupe of ethereal jesters, composed of Lil’ Drummer Boi’s pitter pattering on Gravity Bongo’s. Both tracks repping and following the rhythm of the ozone bounce house. With enough elasticity you’ll ^^break thru^^, experiencing Possession by momentary ascension. The weightless sensation of falling in a circle; catch yourself if you please. Such transcendence is lucrative, the Paparazzi on hand to flash and burn the retina, providing instant short-circuit delusions of grandeur. Sonically every hard knock is met with a “bOinKK!!”, illuminating the dark yet cartoonish nature of the practice - guaranteed to make u skip, achieve the perfect sly pout. You and your gang can terraform into bodacious bass-bins, and cast your personal Redemption Arc onto the ether. Inhibitions are to be absolved, and fat kickdrums to be followed. In this hyper-informed yet unknowing present tense, who can ignore the beat based intrinsic incentive to fuck up the circadian rhythm - the music becoming a byte-based silkworm, spinning its digital silk from synapse to synapse, until your brain is a translucent cocoon playfully ricocheting, the cranium its pleasure dome. Call the drum dealer.