Making a welcome return nine years on from his last outing on Dekmantel, Makam offers up a generous helping of wayward grooves that take his curious spirit even further into unmarked territory. With a strong dub sensibility grounding his rich tapestry of percussion and instrumentation, Guy Blanken follows his own path to arrive at an album that embodies house music as a launchpad for experimentation. Blanken says himself he was determined to approach his first Makam productions in years from a place of total freedom Its not a single direction, but rather a landscape of sounds, moments, and textures. TARP feels like a new beginning, a free project that just had to happen naturally. The steady pulse of the club remains a guiding principle boldly manifested on heads down roller Static Shade, but even in the lilting organic loops and tumbling percussion of Forgive there is a funkiness thats beholden to continuous movement. At times the direct thump of 4/4 disco juts out as a call to dance, not least on Flying Birds and La Tuna, but elsewhere the rhythms are more slippery. Dub In Loen plots a delicate path through dub techno and Lummel Spirit casts off into pattering Balearic bliss. The pervasive dub mood of the record comes to the fore on expertly crafted stepper Diagonal Rain and crooked album opener Clear Skies. Jackie B lands as a love letter to quintessential deep house, and yet still theres a left-of-centre charm that gives the track a personality that is pure Makam. Exuding warmth and imagination at every turn, TARP is the perfect example of how to make a groove-oriented album a rich home listening experience. There are ample moments primed for the spectacle of the dancefloor, but the mellow hue and broad sweep of approaches make Makams welcome return utterly compelling from end to end.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Highly sought after secret bonus track taken from Quirke's latest EP on Dekmantel Records.

Highly sought after secret bonus track taken from Quirke's latest EP on Dekmantel Records.

Making a welcome return nine years on from his last outing on Dekmantel, Makam offers up a generous helping of wayward grooves that take his curious spirit even further into unmarked territory. With a strong dub sensibility grounding his rich tapestry of percussion and instrumentation, Guy Blanken follows his own path to arrive at an album that embodies house music as a launchpad for experimentation. Blanken says himself he was determined to approach his first Makam productions in years from a place of total freedom Its not a single direction, but rather a landscape of sounds, moments, and textures. TARP feels like a new beginning, a free project that just had to happen naturally. The steady pulse of the club remains a guiding principle boldly manifested on heads down roller Static Shade, but even in the lilting organic loops and tumbling percussion of Forgive there is a funkiness thats beholden to continuous movement. At times the direct thump of 4/4 disco juts out as a call to dance, not least on Flying Birds and La Tuna, but elsewhere the rhythms are more slippery. Dub In Loen plots a delicate path through dub techno and Lummel Spirit casts off into pattering Balearic bliss. The pervasive dub mood of the record comes to the fore on expertly crafted stepper Diagonal Rain and crooked album opener Clear Skies. Jackie B lands as a love letter to quintessential deep house, and yet still theres a left-of-centre charm that gives the track a personality that is pure Makam. Exuding warmth and imagination at every turn, TARP is the perfect example of how to make a groove-oriented album a rich home listening experience. There are ample moments primed for the spectacle of the dancefloor, but the mellow hue and broad sweep of approaches make Makams welcome return utterly compelling from end to end.

With a glorious flourish of melodious club abstraction, cult producer Quirke makes a welcome return by delivering his most upfront tracks to date for Dekmantel. Josh Quirke first came through on Young Turks (Young) and Whities (AD93) through the 2010s, offering a distinctive, slanted take on hardcore and house music alike that came shrouded in dense atmospherics and shot through with wistful melancholia. Comparisons to artists like Burial and Skee Mask werent unfounded, but Quirke was very much operating on his own terms, as he has continued to ever since. The last we heard from the low-key producer was his debut album Steal A Golden Hail, released on Whities in 2019, and now he comes through with a strong update to his sound that finds a natural home on Dekmantel. Its clear from the structural shifts in lead track Underdetermined that Quirke is operating free from the so-called rules of dance music, veering from a pure synth intro straight into the full peak of the track without so much as a warm-up. Placing emotionality ahead of functionality, Underdetermined manages to be every inch an anthem. The OT3 deals in denser percussive textures and haunted pads, with ample room for wistful sentimentality and a steady trucking kick. On Worth Variation, the array of blown-out elements are glued together into a dub techno pulse, where every atmospheric impulse feels like part of the groove. Ten Times Over Crystal Fruit completes the record across a grand sweep of narrative arrangement, shifting through phases and heavy layers of joyful noise. Its intense and delicate in equal measure, absolutely ready to move a mass of bodies but without ever deferring to the familiar. Quirke happily avoids engagement with the wider scene while making his truly individual music, but he himself admits he struck upon a dimension of his sound that could explore immediacy and impact without losing the subtle, smudged-out beauty inherent in his musical DNA.

Making a welcome return nine years on from his last outing on Dekmantel, Makam offers up a generous helping of wayward grooves that take his curious spirit even further into unmarked territory. With a strong dub sensibility grounding his rich tapestry of percussion and instrumentation, Guy Blanken follows his own path to arrive at an album that embodies house music as a launchpad for experimentation. Blanken says himself he was determined to approach his first Makam productions in years from a place of total freedom Its not a single direction, but rather a landscape of sounds, moments, and textures. TARP feels like a new beginning, a free project that just had to happen naturally. The steady pulse of the club remains a guiding principle boldly manifested on heads down roller Static Shade, but even in the lilting organic loops and tumbling percussion of Forgive there is a funkiness thats beholden to continuous movement. At times the direct thump of 4/4 disco juts out as a call to dance, not least on Flying Birds and La Tuna, but elsewhere the rhythms are more slippery. Dub In Loen plots a delicate path through dub techno and Lummel Spirit casts off into pattering Balearic bliss. The pervasive dub mood of the record comes to the fore on expertly crafted stepper Diagonal Rain and crooked album opener Clear Skies. Jackie B lands as a love letter to quintessential deep house, and yet still theres a left-of-centre charm that gives the track a personality that is pure Makam. Exuding warmth and imagination at every turn, TARP is the perfect example of how to make a groove-oriented album a rich home listening experience. There are ample moments primed for the spectacle of the dancefloor, but the mellow hue and broad sweep of approaches make Makams welcome return utterly compelling from end to end.

Dekmantel welcomes Theo Kottis back for his second release on the label - three high-impact club tracks plus a remix from rising star Spray. Following Lighthouse - named song of the summer by Resident Advisor - Blue Supermoon carries the same melodic punch, rhythmic drive - and its already lighting up some of the worlds most treasured dancefloors. The title track has been circulating for over a year, with early support from Batu, Call Super, Francesco Del Garda and Ben UFO and plays at Houghton, fabric and beyond. Its a swirling, tension-loaded cut where pads and an arpeggiated topline intertwine over a weighty, driving bassline, underpinned by intricately layered percussion - the kind of track that stays with you. What To Do was inspired by a night out at fabrics 25th birthday party, linking back to Kottis recent release on fabric Records. Hyper aims for big-room euphoria, with a towering build-up and hands-in-the-air release. Spray closes the EP with a shimmering, progressive-leaning take on Hyper, adding his signature slow-burn tension and widescreen energy.

Dekmantel Ambient / Experimental

New album by Call Super for Dekmantel, honouring the classic mix CD format with 12 exclusive tracks all produced by Call Super using different monikers. Call Super revives the endangered art of the mix CD with a fluid, technicolour hour of elegantly advanced club music featuring a striking assembly of emergent artists. Since their first releases in the early 2010s, Joseph Seaton has been a many-sided artist balancing expressive electronics with organic instrumentation. Their background in jazz has informed ambient and experimental albums, but theyve proven to be just as comfortable tackling all shapes and speeds of impactful club music. This extends to their practice as a DJ, regularly surfing the slipstream of the club and festival circuit with a sensitive, seductive instinct for the movement of a dancefloor. Seaton set out to make ARPO an acronym for A Rhythm Protects One to honour the meaning of mix CDs in a world drowning in online DJ streams. Part of the generation raised on seminal series like the metal-tinned fabric and fabriclive (which Seaton themselves contributed to), they cast back to the lasting impression of landmark sessions like Coldcuts 1995 opus Journeys By DJ: 70 Minutes Of Madness. These were mixes to absorb over and over again, where every deeply considered track and transition became lodged in your psyche. As a DJ, producer and composer with a reputation for distinctive, head-turning musicality, Seaton puzzled out a selection for ARPO that bristles with invention. Every track feels like a moment, loaded with motifs and loops that gently impose their presence across an ever-shifting, intricately woven tapestry of dancefloor psychedelia (not to be confused with any genres with psy in the name). As well as exclusive new material under their Call Super and Ondo Fudd aliases, Seaton uses multiple new monikers to present their creative vision. In terms of slinky 4/4 groove and mid tempo pace, you might locate the likes of Conny Slipp, Scarletina and Clam1 on the wilder fringes of minimal tech house, but their productions teem with textural depth and melodic subtlety that reach past that scenes typically functional tendencies. Curveballs abound, and Seaton relishes in the chance to divert into dramatic workouts like their own Limelight and Mothertime or strip everything down for the striking, swooning poetry of Malgo & KVS The Argosy. Way beyond neatly boxed-off club styles, the individual tracks have their own unique qualities that hold space within the mix as a whole memorable hooks that burrow in deep, sequenced as a complete and immersive whole to carry with you through life. As Seaton puts it themselves: There is a line in the Malgo & KVS track that goes, I must be the place where the storm catches breath. The line captures that feeling of the best of times in a club, where everything slips away in terms of time and you feel like youve reached a place beyond the outside world, a place of your own that is somehow communal with those around you. The mix was meant to be an honest reflection of those moments for me as a DJ. The zones that somehow encapsulate the physical and mental harmony you feel in that place. This is a mix for that zone.