New Electronic Albums

Tim Reaper, Mantra, and Decibella reunite for a focused jungle session that balances razor‑cut breaks with airy pads and dub‑rich atmosphere. “Charades” nods to classic toasting; the title track bridges rushy amens and four‑to‑the‑floor momentum before easing into the luminous “Golden Hour.”

Emily Jeanne sharpens dread into motion on her quỳnh imprint: coiled rhythms, sinewy bass, and spare, pressure‑cooker sound design carry four tracks that feel both stealthy and forceful. “Vague Gestures” rattles like a heartbeat; elsewhere the percussion pulls toward techno without losing negative‑space tension.

Hodge distills ideas from a new live set into four meticulously engineered bass‑techno tools: taut acid on “Trent (Knee Jerk Mix),” the title cut’s skittering breaks, and granular closer “Haunt.” It’s detailed but direct—arrangements stay muscular while textures keep shifting.

Sobolik folds Jersey club shudder, halftime breaks, and acid flickers into sleek hybrids that still hit hard at club weight. The title track leans tense and off‑kilter; “Giant Pier” and “Perc Loop Princess” push intricate drum programming without sacrificing low‑end pull.

Kooky, steel‑spined art‑pop with a clubbed‑up chassis: trip‑hop lilt, post‑punk guitar swipes, and glossy synths frame character studies that swing from femme‑fatale camp to deadpan confession. The production is denser and darker than before but still playful, leveraging retro pulses and drum‑machine thump without blunting melodic bite.

A lean, personal return from the Berlin mainstay: 12 tracks of streamlined techno that favors tactile drums, humming synth hooks, and a lived‑in studio feel over maximalist spectacle. The highlights nod to early‑rave pulse and cinematic gloss alike (“NINETY‑TWO,” “Dreaming On”), with arrangements that breathe even at club tempos.

Amirtha Kidambi and Matt Evans channel grief into ritualistic electronics and voice, sculpting drones, thrum, and percussive abrasion into movements that feel both ascetic and incandescent. The pacing is deliberate but dynamic—feedback halos and hand‑worked rhythms bloom into cathartic peaks without losing the album’s meditative core.

Tristan Shone trades solitary machine-doom for a duo format and a concept sparked by borderland birdsong, translating avian calls into lurching drones, piston‑like rhythms, and grimly luminous hooks. It’s industrial at heart but surprisingly atmospheric, with guests (Kuntari, Fange, Megan Osztrosits) threading melody through the grind.

The London shape‑shifter folds ambient sketches, spoken asides, and smeared vocals into a drifting, deeply personal mixtape that toggles between dry humor and raw grief. Negative space does as much work as the instrumentation, turning small gestures into uncanny snapshots.

Psy‑curious minimal techno with air to breathe: high‑tempo pulses, subliminal bleeps, and dub‑rich space that feels weightless yet insistent. Altjira’s syncopated kick patterns add extra torque while Archypness threads sleek motion through the haze.