VEYL Germany レコード& CD

Review: Harlem, the Stockholm-based duo, return with an eight-track exploration of dark, pulsating electronics. Drawing on influences ranging from King Tubby's dub to Robert Hood's minimal techno, they craft a sound that defies easy categorisation. Echoing the no wave dissonance of early ESG and the industrial edge of Cabaret Voltaire, they fuse these disparate elements into a potent sonic cocktail. 'Shut Your Body' opens with a muscular intensity reminiscent of Nitzer Ebb, its driving rhythms and gritty textures setting the stage. 'Fantasy Scan' picks up the pace, a dancefloor-ready jam that recalls Underground Resistance's hypnotic grooves. 'Blow By Blow' channels a nihilistic energy, its sparse arrangement and spoken-word vocals evoking the cold wave sounds of Kas Product. The B-side continues the sonic exploration with 'Dummy Up', a track that evokes the frenetic energy of a cult gathering, its electro and body influences recalling the darker side of the 80s underground. 'Sleuth' takes a more introspective turn, its repetitive grind suggesting a relentless search for the unknown. 'Contact High' brings back the seductive energy, its dancefloor-ready rhythms and infectious melodies reminiscent of early Detroit techno. The album closes with 'Wiggle Walker', a melancholic track that suggests a journey into the unknown. Harlem's music is a thrilling ride through a landscape of sonic extremes, a sonic experience that is both exhilarating and unsettling. Visceral but thought-provoking, this is a potent blend of genres and influences that defies expectations.

Review: Italian-born, Berlin-based. These details alone are enough to mark Velvet May out as a product of location. Italy has long-been obsessed with a distorted futurism, musically at least, with a slew of hugely respected noise pioneers calling the country home, particularly in northern areas around Torino. Meanwhile, Germany's capital is all about those dystopian aesthetics and technophile attitude. Fusing together industrial, rock, and electronic in a visceral, mechanical, human-trapped-in-machine amalgamation of sound, the grit of production lines meets the unbridled raw energy of punk, the sex droid seduction of electroclash steaming headfirst into the forward momentum of techno. It's angry, frustrated, perhaps even desperate, voices calling out from behind wires and controllers. Yet, in other moments ('Haven of Thrill', for example) it's positively life-affirming and, dare it be said, owes something to the euphoria of rave.