Eduardo De La Calle
Modern Choices

Andy Stott’s classic bout of screwed, knackered House is a shapeshifting, hardy perennial whose crushing traction and atmospheric grip has only deepened in the decade (+1) since it was first issued, as part of a now notorious one-two in 2011 beside ‘Passed Me By’. Out of print for almost a decade, it’s now finally available again in a new edition that’s still sounding unlike pretty much anything else we’ve heard in the intervening years.’We Stay Together’ was a proper watershed moment for Andy Stott in the nascent phase of an inspirational stylistic arc. While he’d spent the previous six years constructing everything from warehouse-shuddering deep house and dub techno to bare-boned dubstep, the arrival of a new decade paid witness to Stott turning inward, collapsing what he’d learnt from late night sessions with the Modern Love crew into a radical new sound that was arguably without precedent in its field.The simple move of screwing the tempo to circa 100BPM would, in turn, open out his sound, prising room between the rhythms which he coloured with a palette of particularly bruised, processed outside-the-box textures gleaned from an array of guitar pedals and endlessly churned samples. There were, of course, parallels in DJ Screw’s codeine-infused treatments of classic rap and soul, and their influence on the contemporaneous “witch house” style, but few, if any, were doing it within a techno and club music context that hewed so close to the darker, gristlier underbelly and animus of Manchester’s warehouse heritage. This style of viscous, cranky chug proved fertile ground that would be explored in-depth over the next decade - you can hear traces of it on everything from Overmono’s sludge to Low’s acclaimed 'Double Negative’ - and trust when we say it’s the source of it all. But, still, nothing twats quite as smart or heavy as ‘We Stay Together’.From an opening that uncannily echoes the rinsed-out empty warehouse scenes in the closing stages of ‘Fioriucci Made Me Hardcore’, the serotonin-depleted ’Submission’ triggers a side-chained momentum that helplessly drags users thru the gnarly mire of ‘Posers’ to the zombied lurch of ‘Bad Wires’ and its title tune’s ket-legged strut. He pushes the aesthetics to asphyxiating degrees on ‘Cherry Eye’, but not without a glimmer of hope in its underwater choral motifs that always buoys his best bits from utter doom, before ‘Cracked’ stresses the metallic tang of his textures with a bloodlust and vital, systolic throb whose effect has only been galvanised with age.

Nuron makes a spectacular return on De:tuned with a compilation of hidden treasures! Nurmad Jusat aka Nuron / Fugue, one of the originators of the UK emotive techno sound, went on a quest for archived material and unearthed a handful of DAT tapes with previously unreleased music from the early to mid 90s. The tracks offer a deeply melodic and unique masterclass. Nuron combines a pulsing four-on-the-floor signature beat of the traditional techno sound with his characteristic rhythm and harmony elements. Classic Likemind-esque material that comes with an exclusive Stasis remix of 'Contrapoint'. Essential purchase! Mastered by Matt Colton at Metropolis and pressed on 180 gr vinyl. Al White created all the graphic work. Stay tuned!

Over the past decade, the mysterious, London-based artist Moiré has perfected a syrupy, addictive brand of dance music via labels like Actress's Werk Discs and illustrious imprints like Ghostly and Rush Hour. For most of this period, Moiré seemed pramarily concerned in creating alternative universe club tracks. The beats were hypnotic, if wonky. The pads were deep before they were refracted through an oblique filter. In a discography bearing a surfeit of leftfield high points, Circuits, Moiré's latest album for the Berlin-based Avenue 66 (Lowtec, John Frusciante, Joey Anderson) is a massive creative leap that fully breaks with the strictures of a "conventional" dance music.While there are still nods to the low-slung, slow house style Moiré's perfected in the past ("Circuit 1"), as well as the looming shadow of hardcore ("Circuit 8), Moiré's style now billows into a liminal, cinematic zone that recalls the canonical SAW albums, BOC or even Seefeel's enduring, genre-free experiments. Rhythms come and go at all tempos, from Hauntological four-on-the-floor to flickering downtempo and ambient house approximations. But the emphasis lies with the melodies. From the queasy orchestral style of "Circuits 1" to the glacial, "end credits"-style synths that close out the album, these motifs bear an uncanny familiarity, as though they always existed. You recognize them, not from a previous listen, but rather, some half-remembered dream, or, perhaps, a previous lifetime.