In a sharp-angled, fiercely inventive reflection on the nature of club culture and digital fatigue, Simo Cell and Abdullah Miniawy reunite to deliver their new album, Dying is the internet, to Dekmantels UFO series. French producer Simo Cell has blazed a singular path from his dubstep-influenced origins to become a leading light in contemporary leftfield club music, twisting up adventurous rhythms and flamboyant production in pursuit of a perpetual freshness for the floor. Egyptian singer, poet, producer and composer Abdullah Miniawy has become equally omnipresent in the past 10 years, straddling the arts world and leading with his piercing Arabic lyricism while maintaining an eternally curious spirit that leads into open-ended, experimental music from the abstract to the propulsive. Following up on their 2020 EP for BFDM, Kill Me Or Negotiate, Miniawy describes their sharply focused new album as a playful prophecy about the triggers of a new global revolution. Cell considers the title, Dying is the internet, to be a mantra about how the internet lost its soul, becoming less about sharing ideas and more about surviving in a digital business ecosystem. Deliberately at odds with the reel-ready two-minute attention span of the average social media surfer (i.e. everyone), the pair set out to make an album that takes its time to reveal nuanced ideas and expressions. Rather than one-note despair for the modern malaise, Cell and Miniawy offer a philosophical reminder that this present moment in the human experience is a temporary phase, no matter how overwhelming it feels. Dying is the internet finds Miniawy experimenting with auto-tune across the record, while Cell has developed his voice design chops and compositional instincts, moving closer to fully realised song structures without losing the fundamental clubbiness of each track. The result is a cohesive, wildly original kind of heavyweight dance music that slings out hooks left right and centre, from Miniawys laconic trumpet looming through low-slung Reels in 360 and Travelling In BCC to the persistent handclaps that bring Living Emojis to life. Miniawys poetry explores the power of insistent, repeated phrases in a break from his more typically structured form. Kenyan powerhouse Lord Spikeheart adds extra snarl to stripped-back, slow-burn opener I See The Stadium, but otherwise Dying is the internet is purely the work of Miniawy and Cell casting their considerable chops out into unexplored territory. The results are electric, bound together by a consistent economy of sound that burrows into a shroud of bass-heavy minimalism barely masking Cells incredibly detailed studio flex. Even the beatless flourish of the Miniawy-produced Tear Chime comes loaded with physicality a sensory rush at the mid-section of the album bookended by some of the most idiosyncratic club music in recent memory. Both Simo Cell and Abdullah Miniawy have already proved themselves as fearless innovators across different fields. The strength of their partnership lies in their ability to make space for each other while letting their distinctive sonic identities ring loud and true. Dying is the internet has immediacy and physicality to translate over a soundsystem, but its intricacies are purpose-built for repeat visits and contemplation, unveiling hidden dimensions the deeper you dive into it.

R&R Digital

Noodles Recordings

Awe

Temporary Residence Ltd.

Felte

UPA Records

Throttle Records

Lane Trax

Nebel is the second preview from La Imagen Muda This track is also deeply ambient and slow-paced, entirely created with a modular system and processed with effects. The intention is to explore a new sonic concept—darker and more mysterious. Heavily influenced by the masters Stars of the Lid.

Ben England is a UK producer and composer -- one half of Basic Unit, and also known for work as District Advisory Board and Natural Forces. Burnout follows directly on from Enteron, not as a departure but as a refinement. Warmer and more open, the album leans fully into beatless, string-led ambience, allowing melody and tone to emerge with greater clarity. Stripped to its essentials, these fragile, patient pieces move through melancholy without settling there, holding sorrow and hope in quiet balance.

The formal interception and graduation of electronic sounds into musical harmony stands tall in Static Entity‘s realm. Miniaturized metaphors start to glow and enlighten the details of Static Entity moving into your auditory canal with its friendly mood. Envaluating boundaries of consolidation between the artificial and biological imprints that come through writing a sound with its story - the theme starts to walk its own way. It‘s your accompany in the rush of things! There is none „in the house“ - they‘re in the fields with their heads. And by the way: there‘s nothing classic about thoughts either. -Redeye

Groove

Kalahari Oyster Cult

'You Can Rest Now' is Monic's latest exploration of sound as space and presence. Building on the immersive textures of Trawler Tapes and the dissolving edges of 'Where Reality Fades', this album drifts in sustained, meditative drones, letting subtle shifts and resonances carry the listener through vast, tense sonic landscapes. It's sparse, deliberate, and deeply immersive-music that asks you to stop, listen, and finally rest.

Circus Company

Domino

Erased Tapes

This triple disc release documents Stefan Goldmann's earliest electroacoustic works. These clear-cut algorithmic compositions, mostly created between 1999 and 2001, were built entirely with the TC Fireworx processor's internal synthesizer and effects. Generated and recorded anew for this release with the original programs, a central component of Stefan Goldmann's sound aesthetic is revisited and becomes available in pure form for the first time. His proprietary Fireworx algorithms feature prominently in a multitude of tracks and long-form works, including Phraselab (2005), De-Gauss (2015), Voices of the Dead (2008) and Live at Honen-In Temple (2012). The automated synthesis and effects chains utilize a few layered basic functions to drive kaleidoscopic sound environments which are simultaneously stable while constantly changing: Electric rivers of sound flowing continuously through the same bed, while never repeating themselves quite exactly. Artwork by Thomas Demand.

If I have to say the first thing that comes to mind, I'd say I made this record from a peripheral position. Inside and outside at once. Feeling like an observer, like an outsider. Living in Berlin over the past years sharpened that state: moving through systems without fully belonging to them, operating in parallel, slightly out of sync. That distance seeps in and shapes the way things unfold, while also creating a gap from myself, enough space to step back, see the whole picture, and ask: what do I actually need now? what am I looking for? For example, for a long time I worked by subtraction. Removing, tightening, enforcing a certain rigor. With this record, that wasn't possible. There's so much information in the tracks, too many things happening at once, and I stopped fighting it. Reduction stopped feeling honest, so the music followed how my mind operates nowadays, for better or worse. Focus sharpens and slips at the same time and decisions blur into compulsions. Micro-arranged precision expands, collapses, reforms. Nothing resolves cleanly, because I'm treating my mental state as a structure in its own terms, not as a narrative. What remained is that I keep diving into intersections, where opposites don't cancel each other out, but remain entangled, feeding the same motion. Maybe because they were never truly opposed in the first place but that's another story. Listening back, this record sounds more aggressive than my previous ones, but not by intention. That aggression grows out of intimacy and exposure. From keeping a certain fragility open, almost collapsing, even. Urgency, fixation, and instability overlap without resolution, and that tension is what gives the sound its edge. The same tension runs through the way the music is built. Structure remains, even as excess keeps spilling beyond it. It feels like my most autobiographical record, because it accurately reflects a major shift: accepting excess within structure, instability within control, who I am now against who I thought I was supposed to be (and being almost happy about it). I guess this is the best way I've found to articulate all of this. Or maybe not. Maybe none of the above is entirely true. Still, Scrolling Thru the Wound doesn't need a text that explains it, just one that works the same way. Love, Artur