Mads Emil Nielsen's latest release "Heartbeats" is an exercise in contradiction. It’s both incredibly simple and intricately complex, disarmingly intimate yet meticulously crafted. Presented as a 10” vinyl in collaboration with German sound artist Hanno Leichtmann (aka Chromacolor), this two-sided sonic experiment feels like the audio equivalent of trying to find a heartbeat within a machine: cold, sterile, yet somehow pulsating with life.

The first thing you notice about Nielsen's "Heartbeats" is its refusal to announce itself. The track, born out of loops and sine waves from his modular synth, is like a sonic blueprint - an audio sketch that feels deliberately incomplete but somehow perfect in its minimalism. Imagine listening to the hum of a city from a distance or hearing the soft murmurs of machinery inside a factory. There’s a certain calm in the repetition of these granular pulses, the way they float in and out, subtly layered with deep, organ-like tones and synthesized bass. It’s the kind of piece that could easily soundtrack the quiet, transitional moments of life, where time stretches out and contracts in curious ways.

But don't get too comfortable. Nielsen’s original "Heartbeats" is minimalist to the core, almost to the point where you might ask, "Is this it?" Yes, that "is" it. Nielsen offers us the barest sketch of a heartbeat, a soft, sinewy pulse that is more felt than heard. It’s a meditation on restraint, where every sound has space to breathe, yet somehow, you’re always aware that something more is lurking just beneath the surface.

Which is where Hanno Leichtmann steps in.

On Side B, under his "Chromacolor" moniker, Leichtmann takes Nielsen's careful, quiet composition and says, “Alright, now let’s "really" listen to that heartbeat.” His remix doesn’t just remix - it remakes the track, turning it inside out, expanding its textural palette while preserving its original pulse. Leichtmann adds layers of Fender Rhodes and Moog bass, grounding the once-abstract pulses with real-world weight. Suddenly, that machine heartbeat has a body - one with a slightly funkier soul.

The remix becomes a swirling combination of acoustic and electronic textures, with cello contributions from "Anthea Caddy" and haunting vocals from "Annie Garlid" weaving in and out. The cello is a brilliant addition, grounding the remix with a sense of organic warmth, while Garlid’s voice brings a spectral, otherworldly quality. It’s as if Leichtmann took Nielsen’s sparse blueprint and invited a small, secret orchestra to flesh it out, creating a stark contrast to the solo meditation of the A-side.

But what really sets the remix apart is the sense of unpredictability Leichtmann introduces. While Nielsen’s original piece is all about precision and control, Leichtmann’s version is more organic, allowing the piece to drift and swell in unexpected ways. It feels as though we’ve moved from the clean lines of an architect’s sketch to the messy beauty of an actual building, complete with creaking floors and whispered conversations.

The combination of Nielsen’s minimalist approach with Leichtmann’s more expansive remix feels like a sonic tug-of-war between two musical philosophies - one obsessed with reduction and purity, the other more interested in layers, texture, and contrast. And somehow, despite their differences, they complement each other perfectly. It’s the kind of release that rewards multiple listens, where the starkness of the original becomes even more profound after hearing the remix, and vice versa.

The fact that this 10” release is physically beautiful doesn’t hurt either. With artwork by "Karel Martens", the tactile pleasure of holding this inside-out sleeve, printed in CYK + Pantone, is as satisfying as the music itself. Arbitrary continues to deliver on its promise of making limited-edition vinyl releases feel like special, artful objects, and "Heartbeats" is no exception.

So, where does that leave us? Is "Heartbeats" an essential listen? It depends on what you’re looking for. If you’re in the mood for meditative minimalism, Nielsen’s original is a masterclass in sonic restraint. If you want something that pushes those boundaries into more visceral, tactile territory, Leichtmann’s remix is where the magic happens. Together, they create a beautiful, evolving dialogue - one that speaks to the power of collaboration and the endless possibilities of sound.

In the end, "Heartbeats" offers two distinct but interconnected visions: one of minimal, machine-like precision, and another of lush, human warmth. And somewhere in the middle of those two pulses, you’ll find the heart of this record.