New Electronic Albums

SML’s new set (International Anthem) crosswires modular synth burble, limber jazz‑kit patterns, and soft‑focus guitar into slow‑building pieces that slip between kosmische drift and post‑rock pulse; the interplay feels conversational, with motifs surfacing and dissolving like tape loops.

Roj Osa meet Rob Mazurek in a live‑wired collision of industrial ambience and cornet psychedelia on Beton Kino, recorded across Croatian venues; jagged electronics, cavernous drums, and Mazurek’s astral flourishes swing from hushed drift to raucous, post‑rock surges. It captures concrete‑echo sonics with an improviser’s instinct and a filmmaker’s sense of space.

Earth Ball’s Outside Over There threads free‑improv skronk through a nervy rhythmic throb, where clattering percussion, searing sax, and feedback‑licked guitars coil into stormy crescendos and sudden lulls. It’s anarchic but purposeful, a live‑wired studio set that treats texture and pulse like moving targets rather than fixed grids.

Naya Beat’s reissue of Mohinder Kaur Bhamra’s Punjabi Disco spotlights a joyous, pioneering British‑Asian dance LP—Punjabi melodies riding 808 jack, neon‑tinted synths, and proto‑acid accents that still feel club‑ready. History lesson and party at once.

Debit slows cumbia’s pulse into a spectral drift on Desaceleradas, stretching rebajada textures into foggy dub, ambient smear, and tape‑haunt reveries on Modern Love. It reads like a cultural elegy, but the synth and accordion ghosts keep a magnetic sway.

yaz lancaster folds violin, voice, and circuitry into a shape‑shifting suite that moves from hazy ambient drift to noise‑scarred catharsis and loping, soul‑tinted grooves. Recorded during a Pioneer Works residency with cameos from Dreamcrusher, KING VISION ULTRA, and See The Lieutenant, it reads like a diary of impulses—tender one moment, volatile the next—yet remains strikingly coherent.

Rosalía’s LUX reframes pop as an oratorio: orchestral swells, choral arrangements, and synthetic gloss carry multilingual meditations on faith, love, and reinvention. It’s maximal yet precise, folding avant‑classical ideas into luminous hooks.

Keiji Haino and Shuta Hasunuma soften the edges of avant‑improv on U TA, pairing Haino’s close‑mic’d whispers and chants with pillowy piano, electronics, and chamber textures. It’s unexpectedly tender and slow‑burning, revealing warmth inside their usual austerity without losing strangeness.

Charlotte de Witte’s self‑titled debut sticks to club instincts over crossover polish: tough 4/4 drums, gurgling acid lines, and one big breakdown per track, with cameos that amplify the intensity rather than soften it. It’s an album built for peak‑time focus, not playlists.

John Thayer’s Winds Gate treats modular swells and upright‑bass currents like moving water, sketching location‑driven ambient pieces that ebb and pool with subtle harmonic shifts. It’s cool‑toned and tactile, the kind of quiet that rewards close listening rather than fading into the room.