“Dandelion” is introduced as “an abstract beat tape made during lockdown”, and it’s certainly the sound of the lazier Summer lockdown that’s behind us, not the colder Winter lockdown in front of us. Apparently over the Summer ELWD did a lot of work in his garden, and while there’s nothing particularly Gardener’s World about the tunes, tracks like “Poem” are strong throwbacks to the golden days of downtempo and positive trip-hop, perfect for people who still get joy from old Kinobe, Bent and Lemon Jelly albums. Casual acoustic melodies roll over tunes like “Chu” like butter and there’s rich instrumentation, strings and sometimes Groove Armada-ish trumpet work as well. There’s a slightly more determined swagger to tracks like “Greetings”, but it’s no more aggressive than a walk to the shops, and a warm positivity, almost naivety, to tracks like the “Y R Pirates Pirates” (the answer to which is, of course, “because they arrrrrr”). It’s a feel good release, that ends on a high with “Foreverrrr”, defiantly at odds with many people’s moods right now I’d have to say. It’s predominantly instrumental, smattered with a handful of spoken-word samples, though “Hear Me” is a notable interlude thanks to its rather unexpected soul vocal that digs back into ‘80s soul ballad territory and which, frankly, will be too cheesy for some. “Thinking About Mars”’s jazzy vibe manages to toe a much better balance with the arguably clichéd chill out sounds. November seems like an odd time to put out this release, but it could act like a form of aural SAD lamp, providing a window into happier, lazier Summer times for those of us stuck at home in the dark. Try a track out on Spotify (any track will do), and if you like the vibe, then there’s a good chance you’ll connect to the album and it’ll help you see through the Winter.

I’m a little late on this September-released album from Babe, Terror but I glad I went back around to it. It’s a really interesting hour shaped from the most downtempo of electronica, a collection of eight fairly long moody collages full of acoustic instrumentation and atmospherics, and plenty of orchestral sounds and wordless choral noises that give the whole thing a very grandiose scale.

Opener “Scalar Velodromeda” comes across as a form of controlled mess- the bizarre pull of twanged guitar strings in parallel with scratchy plucked piano over waves of choral vocal chords could certainly be described as bizarre, and when the saxophone appears towards the end it’s only the underlying tension that prevents the collage from bordering on silly.

Pieces like “Alcalis” show a more composed and less chaotic side, with soft melodic and synth work that’s very mature and emotive. It’s never overtly calm though, and there are a series of steady cameos from other sonic elements, a form of sonic collage which at times reminds me of old Jimmy Cauty sound collages- particularly “Waiting For The Rites Of Mu”, again probably because of the slow and distant choir sounds.

“Estuário Transur'nia” brings the unusual extra ingredient of an acid-house style bleeping arpeggio that pretends initially to bring structure and rhythm, but ends up competing with further sax and close-recorded guitar.”At It’s an element that also underpins the latter moments of “Salina Lumen”, leading into the start of “Horizogon Catalase” which teases a form of techno pulsing before dropping rather abruptly into orchestral work again. It’s this piece that perhaps best fits the airport theme of the accompanying video work, with its contrasting pulls of technology, constantly ticking time, passivity and lack of control, and the sense of a crowd of people all working to different schedules.

Being honest, it is hard to tell at times which parts of this release are samples, if any. It has a sampled and lo-fi feel at times, but this could be due to the treatment rather than the source. The more original the pieces are, the more high-budget it must have been, and if there were no samples in it at all I’d describe this as one of the most expansive and expensive-sounding releases I’ve heard in a long time.

“Horizogon” is described as an “apocalypse opus”, and it’s worth mentioning it was completed in 2019 so that can’t even be blamed on reflections of covid-19 either. It’s a really distinctive-sounding release, not always comfortable, and sometimes just a little too obtuse in its abstraction, but really attention-grabbing. It’s a recipe of textures that feels fresh and interesting.

Every track on this release has an accompanying video, making it easy for you to check yourself if you find it easier to listen than to read reviews (perhaps I should’ve mentioned at at the start!)

With “Gone”, the established London-based duo of Natalie Williams and Mark Courtney toe a fascinating musical line that skirts around genres with ease. It’s electronica, but not quite, it’s alt-pop, but not quite, it’s hauntology, but it also contradicts it, and so on. It certainly never settles down long enough to be pigeon-holed.

The warm synth arpeggio that emerges once the initial noise collage of opener “Gillett Circle” has subsided feels momentarily like a set-up for a steady electronica journey- yet it’s followed by the abstract anti-pop of “London Gone”, where sparse lyrical moments play against sporadic and arhythmic waves of atmospherics and found sounds, ranging from traffic noises to much more indistinct elements. Yet the tables turn again with third track “Farfasaline”, which starts with a beat and a slightly obtuse trip-hop groove that persists throughout, almost flatly but with enough detail to avoid being dull.

The tonal changes (if not gear changes) persist through the rest of the album- the dubby hollowness of “Morskie Oko”, the robotic and vocalised bass oddness of “Abstract Armour”, the stuttering glitches of “Feverfew 2” and greater pulsing urgency in “Attenzione!”.

It’s a rich and moody electronic excursion absolutely full to the brim with expression, and the variety between tracks keeps you engaged as well. Although I wouldn’t prescribe it to anyone feeling the pinch of lockdown isolation right now thanks to the certain underlying bleakness it exhibits, on a musical level this is certainly something I’d recommend wholeheartedly.

“DXE” brings the moody grime lyrics of Dæmon alongside the equally moody subbass-rich Hyperdub-style slow beats and atmospherics of Endgame. It’s a confident, easy fitting match that feels natural and assured, and it’s surprising to learn it’s a first link-up.

The whole affair is heavily reverb and effect-laden, to the extent that you need to really focus in on the lyrics to even pick them up, otherwise they will roll over you thanks both to the treatment and to the rather droll, casual delivery. As far as I can tell, then, “Let Me Breathe” has a topical and political leaning, as well as the EP’s catchiest hook with its “passive” mantra, and “Caged” is born of deep frustrations, but mainly it does fall back into the over-familiar grime themes of lechery and thug attitude.

“Queue” has shades of dancehall swagger about it, which contrasts against the urgent and somewhat leery “Eye Teeth”.

It’s a consistent dark EP with an exquisite amount of polish, though it does maybe feel a little too washy and toothless in parts.

Koraal recorded the nine numbered pieces of “La Casa del Volcán” in order over the course of a three-night stay in Lanzarote, though whether this was a casual tourist visit or whether Koraal has some special association with the island is undisclosed. It is pitched as an hour-long portrait of Lanzarote, and it certainly paints it as an interesting place to visit.

The backbone of the release is gentle, vaguely balearic rhythms, but this isn’t dance music, and to an extent neither is it casual, chillout music either, though it’s closer to the latter. Soft pulsing and gated electronic noises roll gently around, whilst surprisingly warm- and close-sounding, sometimes almost claustrophobic atmospherics fill the middle.

Sometimes there’s a distinct tribalism to the drums- in part 4 for example, a track which also exhibits one of the album’s more distinct lead melodies. At other points it’s dubbier, letting the rhythms be a bit more tripped out, such as in the delay-washed casualness of part 5, the more straightlaced subbass of part 8, or the slightly tenser rubber-metallic bouncing sounds that meander around at the beginning of part 6.

In electronica, icy, cold sounds are quite easy to come by, so it makes a refreshing change to hear a really hot portrait- you can almost feel yourself baking in the sun just listening to it. As an icy northerner myself it’s oddly uncomfortable at times, as though I want to go and find some shelter, but in every other respect it’s a really enjoyable listen, and a really strong debut from the faintly mysterious Koraal.