Back in stock: Techno (Alles)

Review: On his long-awaited debut, Osaka's Takuya Matsumoto draws a clear line between the tactile futurism of 90s IDM and the emotional depth of Detroit techno, finding beauty in grit and structure in chaos. There's a cinematic quality to the sequencing, from the shimmering opener 'Drifting On The Ocean' to the gnarled syncopations of 'Dril and Acid' and the broken funk of 'Fonseca'. But what makes this record truly sing is its refusal to sit still: 'Mini' dances with jazzy irreverence, while 'Triangles' feels like a dusted-off memory from a lost Rephlex archive. Matsumoto's palette is warm, spiky, and full of movementian album built not on pastiche but on devotion to groove and experimentation in equal measure. You hear shades of Underground Resistance's urgency, Mike Paradinas' off-grid detail, and Floating Points' melodic intricacy, but none of it feels borrowed. 'Traverse' and 'Mercy on the floor' close things with a spacious melancholy that lingers beyond the final fade. This is a conversation with dance music history, spoken fluently in rhythm and mood. A richly detailed, deeply personal statement from one of Japan's most quietly consistent producers.

Review: Ben Klock's label signs up Stef Mendesidis for an ambitious double 12" here that offers up eight superbly designed techno weapons. The open wastes no time locking you into some bulky and muscular groves with driving drums and smart dub chords peeling off the rhythm. There is an absorbing haunting vibe to 'Axial Force' with its smoky, ghostly pads and long-tailed chords while the closer 'The Dance Class' has an unsettling sense of urgency and paranoia in the tightly woven bell melodies and unrelenting drum funk. These are precision-tooled bombs for techno connoisseurs.

Review: Neil E and Big City Bill's latest doubles as the second offering from Spincycle, yet another a split 7" single on 180g vinyl. The twins' journey began two decades ago high up in an unnamed mountain range, where they met, after which they descended onto the city in search of purpose. Thus spake Zarathustra: down below, they toiled away in dimly lit garages, decoding mysterious symbols cast on walls by home-gaffed fluorescent lights. At first, their work seemed like madness, but there comes a time in every madman's life when toil leads to breakthrough. Thus were sowed the two fine harvests you hear here: 'Dry Rub', with its tugging taut sound design, and 'The BBV', a mistier firmament of altitudinal unknowns. No need to map out the terrain first - just give in to your ears.