Back catalogue: Leftfield

Review: Leeds-based label Turnend Tapes showcase the wide and very assured skills of Malmo man Martin Abrahamsson aka Bauri across a choice selection of five tracks from the more thoughtful and atmospheric end of the techno scale. That's not to say there aren't grooves aplenty going on. Opening track 'Zoom0036' has some irresistibly shiny, downbeat electro moves, offset by a touch of Autechre-like ghostliness. 'Jody' comes on like Drexciya at their perkiest, with a soupcon of Air Liquide's cheeky phasing, while 'Sunrise (take 2)' has the majesty and simplicity of Aphex's first 'Ambient Works'. Flip it over for 'Easter Sunday', where streamlined polymetric machine funk and solar flare arpeggios do a merry dance, before 'Feeling Reprise' finishes things off with spiralling half-speed beats and yet more melodic grandeur rising out of the mix. Abrahamsson has a long, impressive pedigree with more alter egos than you've had hot dinners, but this is up there with his most original and confident efforts. It's a Flow-brainer.

Review: It's been a while since we heard from London's bass innovator Brassfoot. In fact, this is his first new EP since a great album back in 2022 and it offers up trippy electronics of the highest order. 'Cat Riddles & Ginnels Juice' is a murky world of lo-fi sounds, scratchy drums and wiry sonics that is pure scuzz. 'Double Speak' is another caustic and rusty melange of rhythmic motifs and fuzzy synth decay while 'Kinda Vicarious ' is all twisted church bells and otherworldliness. 'Earthiopia' is hyperdriven experimental minimalism and 'A Nation, No Flag' closes this most avant-garde EP with more eerie urban electronics. A truly out there EP.

Review: Ever-interested in pushing boundaries through sound and ideas, Bjarki returns to the full-length release schedule with another captivating adventure down electronic roads less travelled. More IDM than techno, tracks like 'Puppet Parade' perhaps hit the nail most squarely in terms of descriptions here - warm pads and metronomic accents in the foreground, strange, treacle-y alien noises in the background. Weird and always wonderful, one of the most impressive achievements here is the deft ability to create soundscapes that simultaneously welcome us with open arms and defy expectation and norms. Whether it's the 170 snares and lush tranquility of 'Healing From Memory', or the strangely rousing but thoroughly off-planet 'Void Visitor' to close.

Review: Ben Lukas Boysen's Alta Ripa marks a transformative milestone in his artistic evolution as he blends introspection with bold experimentation. Rooted in the serene landscapes of rural Germany where his creativity first blossomed, the album also reflects the dynamic energy of Berlin, which reshaped his sound in the early 2000s. Boysen's fourth studio album bridges past and future, merging the reflective melodies of his youth with the innovative tones of Berlin's electronic scene. He describes it as music his 15-year-old self would admire but only his grown-up self could create. Unbound by tradition, Boysen's eclectic influences drive his constant musical reinvention.

Review: Born and raised in Bern, Switzerland, Michael Antener spent most of the 1980s concerned with interpreting the subconsciously and overtly apocalyptic discourse of that time through the medium of industrial-edged, dark feeling music. "I found a niche where I could express myself, along with other people who were not afraid of dark themes," he's quoted as saying in retrospect, before going on to explain that singing about love would have been more difficult than using "cries of pain taken from horror movies". This triple vinyl collector's item celebrates that fertile, if angry and dystopian period in Antener's life. Bringing together work from two of his formative projects, The Stranger of the Swamp and Bande Berne Crematoire, what's here is captivating. Electroclash with groove, distressed collages of noise, a certain sense of sonic expressionism - all brooding shadows, menacing arrangements and deeply unsettling moods.