YUKU

YUKU

YUKU

YUKU Bass / Club

YUKU

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

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

YUKU

YUKU

YUKU

Fragments of Utopia – A Sonic Journey Through Struggle and Authenticity Fragments of Utopia is a bold exploration of the tension between striving for perfection and embracing imperfection. Rooted in themes of obsession and compulsion, it invites listeners to reconnect with their raw essence.. an expression of authenticity that transcends music and resonates on a deeply human level. This EP reflects the frustration of living in a world where so much feels out of reach or beyond control. Its a reflection of the desire to make a difference while navigating the limits of individual influence… a struggle thats both deeply personal and widely shared. Hail and Farewell sets the tone with a shift in atmosphere, beginning with a syncopated rhythm and ambient textures reminiscent of Soreabs Kraepelin Avenue EP. It then transitions into a functional four-to-the-floor groove, ideal for early club arrivals. Fragments of Utopia explores a yearning for connection amidst the tension between happiness and satisfaction, drawing on the influence of early Digital Mystikz productions. This track also carries a touch of psychedelia, inspired by the artists formative experiences at illegal raves and squat parties in London. Finally, Wooden Heart fuses industrial textures with an intricate exploration of rhythm syncopation, resulting in a unique blend of dub, jazz infused psychedelic techno.

YUKU Breaks / Breakbeat / UK Bass

YUKU Bass / Club