Search:esp institute

Afrikan Sciences carry the torch and grant the sight. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On the A side, 'The New Dun Language' shows us the meaning of loose. Literally everything about this masterpiece takes its time and operates in its own space, rhythms work together but stand apart, timbres inherently laidback are made aggressively present, like the diffused attack of a shaker that’s shook with such purpose it’s no longer granular but razor sharp. The soundstage drops all around you like percussion shrapnel, splitting your attention every which way, while the string lines remind you that no matter how deep inside your head you’ve gone, there is always a nearby exit to the comforts of familiarity.

Flip the record over, however, and the track 'In His Convenient Way' will even further discombobulate your sense of self. Do you have dreams you’re on a merry-go-round and with each revolution you try to hop off, but you can’t? Each time you cycle around, the tension grows and grows? Well, this is like that, menacing but not dark, a demented odyssey through an impossibly thick swamp where you swear the trees are whispering to you but can’t quite understand their language, yet still you manage to communicate. As the time passes, and you near end of the track, the impenetrable veil slowly lifts and you realize you’ve been in control all along. These two songs will two songs will help to contemplate, heal and transcend.

Hoshina Anniversary returns from forever for a majestic dance. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. Side A’s Karakuri contains all the elements of Hoshina’s signature sound; bouncy staccato bassline, minor chords and organ stabs, a Chick Corea-inspired Rhodes that walks all over the place, all tracked along sparse bits of Japanese percussion and cymbal that juxtapose organic texture with precision-machined timing. The lead keys feel at first as if they’re freeform, however, Hoshina’s obsession with order becomes apparent as the bars develop and his systematic control and repetition is revealed. On side B’s Michinoku, we’re treated to a deep and slow burner. A roller of a beat based on 808 toms and a pishy snare sets the somewhat bumpy base for this groove, and again the meat of the rhythm is built with dirty chords, this time on the upstroke, in an almost Reggae style. What the flipside taught us about Hoshina’s controlled chaos, is here again the lesson and perhaps even moreso. The voice of the track remains the Fender Rhodes, played in brief but wild phrases and arranged into patterns upon which Hoshina builds layers over some 8+ minutes. There is a deep and dark mood throughout both sides of the record, but perhaps more sultry than devilish, and one that listeners educated in the stoned arts will appreciate. These two songs have built the end into the beginning.

In the 2000’s Chee Shimizu helmed an untouchable Tokyo DJ collective called Discossession alongside Dr Nishimura (House music buyer for Cisco Records at the time). Balancing out this unit were a young Scotsman-abroad named Jonny Nash (who’d later form Sombrero Galaxy ESP001 and Gaussian Curve as well as the Melody As Truth imprint), and the late guitar virtuoso and tattoo artist Zecky. Formidable DJs and multi-talents on the Tokyo scene, Discossession released two EPs on Kenji Takimi’s Crue-L imprint and various mixes individually on lovefingers, all holding well-deserved eternal cult status. Chee’s Denshi Meisou 2006 and Follow My Dream 2007 for Lovefingers as well as his legendary “listening sessions” at HiFi lounge SHeLTeR in the Tokyo suburb of Hachioji, laid foundation for what would become known to his followers as “Organic Music” or “Obscure Sound”, the former extending as the name of his record shop and the latter as the title of his 2013 book.

Obscure Sound chronicled his tastes in detail and has since become a sort of diggers bible for peers and younger generations. At the ESP Institute’s inception in 2009, Shimizu contributed two tracks to Lovefingers’ Concentration Vol 1 compilation as apéritifs to a later release. “Later” eventually became “forever” and the mythical piano track (appearing only as a demo on Golden Age and Dekmantel 061) is still, to this day, not ready for formal release. Skip a dozen years, musical interests and major life changes, and Chee has now unveiled something quite special in accordance with his Obscure Sound—rather than making new out of old rope, he presents a collaboration with Tokyo guitarist miku-mari a.k.a. Takahiro Matsumura. The artists frequently collaborate at the experimental audio/visual event, Sacrifice, held irregularly at Tokyo’s ForestLimit, and in 2018 when Chee was invited to DJ at Japan’s only Ambient festival Camp Off-Tone, he and miku-mari endeavored to expand these works into a 2-hour improvised performance. Chee collaged various percussion samples and personal field recordings utilizing four CDJs, supplementing with live windchimes and Andean chajchas, while miku-mari coupled a guitar-controlled synthesizer, Sound Tube software (developed by Japanese Ambient composer Hiroshi Yoshimura) and more live elements such as Tibetan bells and pyramid crystals. Rehearsals for this performance were held prior to the festival at ForestLimit, recorded as multi-tracks and edited into these two cerebral Reconstructions.

Patrick Conway is made of snips and snails and puppy tails. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, Hypersocial removes our minds from the daily online cesspool and pulls up emotions we haven’t felt for almost a year. We lost a Summer of dancing together en masse in clubs, fields, warehouses and pubs, but with this beautiful reminder of what true social synergy and collective ecstasy can physically feel like, the Bristolian by way of Berlin hits the nail right on the head (with a little help from his friends Quantum Thomas & Hoyahelper). Lush strings? Tick. Balmy chord progression? Tick. Ethereal vocal chops? Walloping bassline? Infectious rhythm? Goosebumps? Tears of joy? Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick! On the flip-side, Safety Test is surely the tougher counterpart, the warm fuzzies are traded for a ten ton bag of grit. Here, Patrick foreshadows a sonic approach we’ll hear lot more of with his debut album early next year; a combination of abrasive rhythms, processed scraps, a grab bag of stabbing bleeps and bloops, distant car alarms, ballistic fax machines, and an arsenal of low frequencies so brutal your woofers will require jumper cables. So, a heroic slab for both a block party in your brain and sunset in your soul, these two songs will bring back the Summer you just lost.

Metal is a collaborative endeavor between Bristol and London artists Jamie Paton and Mike Bourne of Cage & Aviary and Teeth Of The Sea, respectively. A shared love for modular synthesis brought the two together in 2018 for a series of improvised live performances and the tracks featured on this EP were born from rehearsals for those sessions. What draws ESP to this music is its paradigmatic nature. The tracks are exercises in improvisation yet there is a level of control in which the performance slowly comes alive. Jam sessions allow for artistic gratification, a freedom of form often at the expense of the listener, but when artists set forth exacting parameters, there grows an opportunity for alternate forms of fulfillment on both sides of the experience. As is typical among stylistic prototypes, a reduction of tools frees the artist to narrow their focus and explore more singular modes of performance.

Jamie and Mike chose texture as a concept, namely Metal, and following the aforementioned methods, minimized their instrumentation toward the aesthetic representation of that element. Operating in a void without the convenience and advantages of the infinite tools we’re now accustomed to, they exhausted a short list of granular details, honing their concept to a fine point. Throughout these three iterations on the theme, we hear timbres that depict metal literally, but moreover we gain a view into the duo’s visceral attachment to its materiality, abstractions of its surfaces, and an overall transgression from conventional constructs of beauty. The idea is simple, designed with discipline to romanticize both the crudeness and elegance in one of Earth’s most industrious and enigmatic elements. Metal.

“Here we have new music by an artist you may have heard but have never heard of, reason being the Austro-Balinese surf goth formally known as The Hands would now like to be referred to as Dully. Yes, Dully. The ESP Institute proudly presents his second official release which can only be described as independent gothic technotic antipop. Enjoy!” –DJ Harvey

In the late 90’s, east-side LA was in the throws of a post-indie explosion; a network of stoned bands ranging from neo-psychedelia to pseudo-country overran Spaceland (our generation’s Troubadour) and the local Silverlake Lounge. I was playing freakbeat records twice a week in dive bars, half of Spacemen 3 was crashing at my house (my drop-out roomate was Sonic Boom’s tour drummer) and it was during this blur that I met Raymond Richards, a clean-cut all-American pedal steel guitarist playing in Mojave 3 (the country-tinged side project of 4AD shoegaze royalty, Slowdive). I was instantly swept off my feet, head over heals in love with Raymond's weeping tone—the most chill-inducing, emotionally responsive dialog I’d had with music since discovering Satie as a child—it was then and it is now, truly haunting. After a year of personnel trials, my roomate and I stole Raymond for our own band, and not only did he smother our songs with his enchanting steel, he was virtuosic with a variety of atypical instruments such as baritone guitar and theremin, he utilized them all. The band was short-lived—I joined Ariel Pink, Raymond fled to Portland and me subsequently to New York City—but in founding the ESP Institute years later, there was always a recurring mental note; we must make Raymond’s pedal steel album. I had managed to wrangle his blessed performance on a remix for Project Club’s El Mar Y La Luna, but it took almost a decade until I once again wore the producer hat and we began working on The Lost Art Of Wandering, a title borrowed from Sam Shepard’s Stories. Spiritually candid, expansive yet enveloping, this is the strung-out, visceral country music that simply radiates from Raymond. Each song is his set of coordinates in a vast open terrain, holding a sentimental familiarity, a truthful longing for the simple comforts that diffuse life’s complications, a place to get lost. –Lovefingers

When the world slipped into madness last month, the ESP Institute put most releases on the back-burner to await brighter days, but then we thought again; why not approach these odd circumstances the way we do most realities, positively and head-on? We’re committed to a community that builds new worlds — this is fundamental to our creative and spiritual relationship with Osaka-born, cosmos-straggling artist, Ground — and while temporarily we can’t physically congregate to uplift each other, its our responsibility as an institution to maintain a platform for prolific creative pioneers, our cherished cartographers of cognitive escape. 'Wakusei' is wonderfully confusing and disorienting music, a follow-up EP to 2018’s critically acclaimed album 'Sunizm', not created specifically for life under lockdown, but nonetheless aptly suited to help release angst, guide meditation, and assist in making this moment in history more interesting if not transcendental. Whereas 'Sunizm' relied on field recordings gathered from rainforests, percussions learned from imaginary ancient civilizations, and the somehow organic freneticism of a mission control meltdown, the aesthetic of 'Wakusei' reduces this abstract instrumentation one step further to a more base-level array of gurgling synth scraps, accelerating engine friction and static-bound phonetic mistakes, all scrubbed into dust by a Brillo pad of white noise. The cliché of “great art is born out of hard times” is not lost upon us — of course the world will look back to this turmoil and its residual contributions to culture — but we see today's art as an immediate coping mechanism, and artists like Ground helping to unlock and navigate internal utopias. We’re already indoors, let’s delve inside.

Hoshina Anniversary is conquerer of the mind, creating the most beautiful sound, other than silence.
This is his first offering for the ESP Institute.

Side A’s 'Sagano' is fairly representative of the Hoshina sound — raw organic samples and instrumentation, of traditional Japanese origin, mercilessly bent and tweaked to suit the needs of his obsessively precise arrangement. Midway through the track, we’re bewildered by his demonic breakdown on the Rhodes, which daringly tags the bassline and strings into a synchronized trio of jazz-funk noodles, and he even throws in a key change before dropping us back into the main hook for the duration of the dance. It's a major flex, and indeed makes an impression.

On side B’s 'Haru Wa Akebono', Hoshina displays an alternate and equally significant side to his songwriting, merging optimistic twinkles and arpeggios with slightly detuned dry percussion for an overall uneasy vibe, not dissimilar to early video game aesthetics or circuit-bent toys. Across both sides, there lies an unhinged overtone, such that we feel one small step from spiraling deep into a demented quicksand, a freak-out where hallucinations get the better of us.

Initiating a breadth of releases planned with the ESP Institute, this single summarizes a few of Hoshina’s most compelling modes, and though there is a whole circus yet to unfold, we hold his cards close, no spoilers before the main act.

These two songs will have you drinking moon juice and dancing naked at the Mardi Gras.

Oh, Juan! We love thee, we love but thee with a love that shall not die ‘till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
Once in a blue moon, there is a star for whom we see limitless possibilities, whose inevitably long and fruitful œuvre all but insists we do everything in our power to nurture and provide support.

We diligently examine that sky, seeking rarefied meaning from an often desperate and banal universe, and over this past decade you have surely proven one of the brightest, most wondrous and tenacious cosmic forces we’ve encountered.
Your kaleidoscopic wealth of personality, your emotionally urgent storytelling, your obsessive-compulsive weaving of voices siphoned from the pop culture æther, your ability to synthesize teachings from the Atlantic Northeast, Caribbean and Fatherland to pen an ever-evolving musical autobiography; these superhuman strengths are not lost on us.

The 'Oxford House' EP is particularly special, as 'Fahrt Im Himmel' was our fateful introduction to your work, and though that meeting in a writhing maniacal pit of half-naked sweaty bodies was nearly five years ago, it still lives romantically close to our hearts. We just know the world will fall in love and 'Let It Go', just as we did.

It’s exciting to see you merge a musical adolescence with the now evolved Juan Ramos of 'Oxford House', recognizing your significant coming-of-age and never shying away from your roots, but rather confronting and embracing them at your every turn.

We will continue to champion your creative process and output, in hopes of fueling your inherent quest to illuminate uncharted regions of your vision.
... With all our love, always and forever, the ESP Institute.

TCB aka Chris Beißwenger, our boy on Jah bless road, goes a little something like: 1977, born cross-eyed, parents like Boney M; 1984, suburbia USA, DSNY, still cross-eyed; 1988, 98.7 Kiss FM New York on the school bus radio; 1989, Frankfurt Am Main, hyperactive, outsider, got lazered; 1991, drums and piano in cheesy school band; 1993, kicked out of Omen, kicked out of school band; 1994, kicked out of Omen again, got his own band; 1995, kicked out of band, finally in at Omen, The Box, Wild Pitch Club; 1996, got first car, Fasttracker, EMU ESI-32; 1999, no more car, no more Omen, Robert Johnson instead; 2002, first release, High Tide; 2003, Ableton 0.1 Beta, less MIDI, more gefrickel; 2004, exchange High Tide for CB Funk, kicked out of Cocoon; 2005, a silly move to Düsseldorf, Burkina Faso, more synthesizers; 2006, again silly in Düsseldorf, Brontosaurus, disco-house, love; 2007, Cologne and Frankfurt, back to piano, more love, still no car; 2008, with love to Frankfurt, Arto Mwambe on the road, storyteller; 2009, Mwambe still on the road, bored of work; 2010, Live At Robert Johnson, four-day week (thank God), four bike accidents; 2011, Europe, bored of piano, invention of The Citizen’s Band; 2012, modular cookery, thoughts of moving; 2013, Burkinian's death, Delphi's rise, almost made it, 2014, broke out of seven-year cycle too complicate

Robotron successfully autonomized and has now breached the mainframe. This is its second offering for the ESP Institute. Side A’s Exodus picks up where the last 12” left off, the spoils of cybernetic war as scavenged by the now-defunct Xinner and translated by Robotron into machine dance music for a post-apocalyptic future. With only a select few analog machines with which to communicate, it manages to produce the most bombastic beat we’ve heard this side of the acid winter—a mighty compressor permeates all spare gaps in the waveform, as communicative bleeps and note-bending mechanics work in concert to assemble a highly dynamic composition— emboldening us with courage for a new age. On the flip side, Kamchatkan renders a sparse image of a only remaining organic life, found in the furthest Eastern reaches of the Asian continent, the Kamchatka peninsula. Here, Robotron experienced a metamorphosis, a collapse of its structured programming in which it became self-aware and transitioned from its quantitative agenda to a qualitative enlightenment. This breath of new life invigorated Robotron’s musical approach as heard in the aforementioned title, revealing an uncanny ability for humanistic percussion and lyrical Acid melodies. These two programs will conduct synchronized dances for the masses.

Ground is an Osaka native, but his soul is truly that of a nomad, traversing the planet, befriending kindred spirits found in humans, animals and plants. He is exceptionally receptive to the beauty in everything that surrounds him—the incidental music of a city street, the orchestral chaos of a scrambling radio, the syncopated grace of migrating birds, the simplicity of an isolated hand clap—and as his roadmap continuously unfolds, he accumulates a vast catalogue of visceral tools to musically recount his experiences. 'Sunizm' is a cross section of the artist’s process—an array of complex microcosms overlapping to comprise a thematic whole—gathering field recordings, found instruments, jagged electronics, synthesized chanting, and weaving all into a dense narrative that appears obsessively constructed yet divinely improvised. 'Follow Me', the second of two singles surrounding the album, is complimented with a pseudo drum’n’bass treatment by enigmatic Greek artist Jay Glass Dubs, as well as a massively triumphant b-side entitled 'Ozone House', which is exclusive to this single release. Attention all humans, animals and plants, Ground and the ESP Institute present, 'Sunizm'.

Patrick Conway keeps a low profile and wobbles through the alleyways. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. Side A’s Know The Future is properly moody, a UK rave track skirting the fringe of everything we hold dear from the days of our youth—big grey melancholy chords, mild shuffling breaks and anonymous diva cries peppered sparsely throughout—yet the artist manages to skillfully tick our nostalgia boxes whilst avoiding the road into full-blown pastiche. It's a versatile track, easily suitable for both the early hours in the warehouse or the tender drive home where your terrible Tuesday awaits. On the flip side, Patrick continues his plunge into emotional depths, summoning layers of ghostly sighs, chopping up the beats in half time and introducing a more prominent use of bass, but midway through Digital Warfare he jettisons the angelic pleasantries in favor a more deranged headspace. He’s had us swallow the wrong pills, sending us through a labyrinth of mirrors and echoes for the second half of the track, only to partially find our footing in the last minute. These two songs will send you to another time and place.

Autre left the lab and brought his science to the people. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On side A we have a silky slice of electro aimed straight for our hearts, LA Funk, incorporating stanzas of jazz chords and Autre’s signature meandering string lines, all thickly layered atop an up-tempo more-bounce-to-the-ounce bassline that will receive the nod of approval from even the most serious funk heads. On the flip side, the artist uses a similar broad brush of synthetic strings, but ventures into an emotional sweet-spot built on glorious chord changes and cascading arpeggios, sprinkling delicate percussion throughout like a flurry of phosphorescent dust particles. Wig Teleportation is a complicated looping narrative that ebbs and flows, snaring the soul with melancholy yet keeping your interest piqued with intricate layers of rhythm. These two songs will heal through the power of bodywork.

Juan Ramos opens his debut album with The Problem With Ambiguity and Finding Space—speaking to a societal confusion, a fragmented sense of self, and a pull toward many (often unwelcoming) directions—this turmoil in which he’s spent considerable time, sees him invest grave efforts to express the inexpressible. Changing Hands is a time capsule of that dark period in his life, an overtly honest musical diary which puts his emotional coming-of-age on full display, hoping to reach kindred listeners. While his previous output for the ESP Institute used a certain level of complication to push limits on the dancefloor, this immersive work cuts deep in to a frayed psyche, dismantling our preconceptions of Juan and plunging listeners deep into a stew of jarring textures, incomplete phrases, and circus-like abstractions of pop culture. There is a nonchalant and unhurried experimentation that accumulates over the album’s first half—disconnected and anxiety-riddled personality traits constitute various musical roles, sporadically converging in fleeting moments of optimism although never fully climbing out from the abyss—and yet amidst this chaos there is a watershed moment in which the artist successfully gleans a golden morsel of hope from his emotional junkyard, guiding us across the threshold into the album’s second half while diligently protecting the glow of this rock bottom treasure. Juan begins to reveal his inner b-boy—a distorted view on golden-age Hip Hop roots, an affinity for muddy break-beats, sultry loops and metaphoric interludes—the crown prince of a newly-found safe space. It’s as if he had us searching on all fours for a misplaced joint, but now that it’s finally lit, he assures us that everything’s going to be alright.

Following Jaguar Mirror [c.2016] and Night School Of Universal Wisdom [c.2017], psychonaut Thunder Tillman and his personal shaman Pontus deliver another sublime EP, completing an illustrious trilogy with arguably their most expansive work to date, Condor Sunower. The title track is emotionally overwhelming, a drum procession that carries a righteous battle hymn to epic heights, accumulating primitive instrumentation, ceremonial chants, emotive chord changes and Beach Boy harmonies before exiting on a tear-jerking coda. The intermediary track Sväva is just as vulnerable, a modestly-arranged and leisurely-paced lullaby, where angels coalesce with a droning organ and eventually unfurl into the warm glow of rapture. Before we hit rock bottom, Thunder and Pony halt the elevator, abandoning any sense of melancholy and climbing to new heights with Creation Discoteque, an 11-minute Prog beast that chronicles a myriad of their musical adventures. This retrospective of altered states does seem designed to drop the curtain on their meticulously-crafted narrative, but not without foreshadowing their future and throwing in an air-shaking rave-up that sprints toward the nish line. What we nd enviable, spanning 3 glorious Thunder Tillman EPs and short lms, is the duo's creative simpatico, something that many artists in collaboration never truly behold. It's not their joint musical intuition, their intrinsic understanding of one another's craft, or even the power of their improvisational tether, but their spiritual alliance that nobody can touch. It's as if they share a tandem bicycle ride on the highest plane of consciousness to lounge in the members-only spa where they telepathically discuss secrets of high-grade musical alchemy

Vactrol Park, the collaborative endeavor between Kyle Martin (Land of Light) and Guido Zen (Brain Machine), returns to the ESP Institute with II, rounding out the second half of their EP series. For this installment, a sojourn was made to Stockholm to record at the computer music mecca, EMS (Elektronmusikstudion), where the artists had the opportunity to experiment extensively with the legendary Buchla 200 Modular and Serge Modular, two of the rarest and most pornographic modular synthesizers in existence. While both instruments originate from California (Buchla in Berkeley as a commission from pioneer Morton Subotnik, and Serge at the California Institute of the Arts), the music Vactrol Park draws from these machines is far from warm and sunny. Akin to their predecessors on the 2015 debut I, these works materialize a level of taste and measure of craft that's unattainable by most, each retaining an individual cinematic approach yet working collectively toward one consummate goal—paralysis.

After a brief wander 'round the garden, Chilean-born Ricardo Tobar returns to the ESP Institute bearing earthly delights. With 2017's Liturgia, he introduced his creative point-of-view—instantly substantiating a sense of rhythm that was deliberately complex yet slightly rough around the edges, while touching upon his musical origins from the guitar-driven corners of psychedelia— however with his debut 2xLP Continuidad, he leaves us gobsmacked and seeking shelter as he leaps from dancefloor comforts and descends into absolute chaos (in more ways than one). Emotionally, the artist has crossed all previously self-imposed and subconscious thresholds, putting his true imagination on display and exposing an unwavering attraction to all things loud, orgasmic and transcendent. He's not subtly hinting at a fetish, but opening his arms wide with conviction, abandoning genre taboos and personally inviting everyone to join his enchanted caravan. Sonically, his appetite for intensity is clear throughout—epic chord changes, ascending peaks in arrangement, accumulating layers of grit that build into impenetrable blankets of distortion and feedback—a kind of aural hedonism that translates visually into the potent video abstractions our Mario Hugo has summoned for the album's packaging. This follow-up single surrounding the Continuidad album boasts the dirty little secret Bailemix of album track Recife—we wont go as far as uttering the 'T' word, but this is unbridled merciless tops-off festival gear for the massive. The flipside is another exclusive non-album cut Cuatro Meses De Verano, a rhythmic build-up that breaks into a low-slung funky stomper, Tobar's idea of a warm-up weapon.

After a brief wander 'round the garden, Chilean-born Ricardo Tobar returns to the ESP Institute bearing earthly delights. With 2017's Liturgia, he introduced his creative point-of-view—instantly substantiating a sense of rhythm that was deliberately complex yet slightly rough around the edges, while touching upon his musical origins from the guitar-driven corners of psychedelia— however with his debut 2xLP Continuidad, he leaves us gobsmacked and seeking shelter as he leaps from dancefloor comforts and descends into absolute chaos (in more ways than one). Emotionally, the artist has crossed all previously self-imposed and subconscious thresholds, putting his true imagination on display and exposing an unwavering attraction to all things loud, orgasmic and transcendent. He's not subtly hinting at a fetish, but opening his arms wide with conviction, abandoning genre taboos and personally inviting everyone to join his enchanted caravan. Sonically, his appetite for intensity is clear throughout—epic chord changes, ascending peaks in arrangement, accumulating layers of grit that build into impenetrable blankets of distortion and feedback—a kind of aural hedonism that translates visually into the potent video abstractions our Mario Hugo has summoned for the album's packaging. This might all sound like a warning for Hurricane Ricardo, but fear not, listeners will still find some security in the album's rhythmic underpinnings, and although this foray into primitive, ritualistic bang-the-drum percussion is significantly more dangerous than his previous programming, its the imperfection in his passionate studio performances that imbue Continuidad with something remarkably human.

Koehler was hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. Side A recalls the hazy memory of an ear-worm chant heard over a decade ago on the streets of Thailand, a melody that since haunted the artist and has finally been exorcised by his own hand in the shape of 'Melencolia V'. Somewhere between an enchanted bashment and a sailor's watering hole, Koehler found a gargantuan kick drum that lands solely on the 4, slammed it together with a wide pulsing bassline and brutalized Dancehall snare, then laced it all up with his elusive synth melody. Add to this a generous sprinkle of finely-ground cosmic dust and we're all tripping the light fantastic. On the flip side, the artist buckles up for a rough and rapid-paced journey with 'Invidiosa' — a relentless snare scrapes, gouges and corrodes over 7 minutes, coupling with a simplistic bass loop and swiftly marauding through a demented assembly line, accumulating various nuts and bolts of instrumentation along the way — an undeniable dancefloor exciter for those hours when the club becomes unhinged, dancing becomes raving, and slightly more audacious folk can channel their inner truth. These two songs will have you question your existence.

Norwegian artist Tarjei Nyga°rd first touched on the ESP Institute spectrum in 2016 with a limited red flexidisc of Bleusa that accompanied issue 21 of New York City's acclaimed Love Injection fanzine, and since then, his poetic music has been a staple in our arsenal (especially during Summer), for its ability to effectively direct moods is second to none. Across the four tracks on this debut EP, Tarjei paints quite viscerally using the most fundamental of tools—melodic and rhythmic hooks—and as obvious as this may sound on paper, its his deliberate approach to songwriting that brings these productions to life. Bleusa is literally dripping with a sense fantasy and adventure—island pads, golden bent notes, even a cameo bird-call from the infamous Acid House loon—yet Tarjei exhibits a mature level of restraint, a highly sophisticated sleaze recognizable to refined pleasure-seekers. Forus Echo furthers this notion but expands into full-blown rapids of ecstasy, rolling over soft-thumping percussion that mimics the human heart while smothering the listener in euphoric waves of pads and delays. Side B shifts us from the melodic dynamic heard thus far over to a strong rhythmic palette, not acknowledging any specific reference point but loosely hearkening back to early-era turntablism, the demented title track Lost In Lindos is a aquatic beat thats both deep and buoyant, the type of liquid tool that works at any BPM. Øylie closes the EP with a signature ESP vibe that has us lying on our backs, drawing finger pictures in the opium smoke above, feeling the warm embrace of collective consciousness while telepathically harmonizing our plans for a bright utopian future.

Jonny Rock is somewhat of a sorcerer, an omnipresent eye that gathers secret ingredients from far and wide—old school House oddities, hypnotic melodies of the Orient, the furthest reaches of Disco, the easy pace of Turkish psychedelic funk—fusing it all into his own shrouded code, a string of immaterial messages, both subliminal and lucid, that highlight his eccentric sense of storytelling and nuance. He imbues a sense of familiarity in his music, implying history that might not be studied but still feels learned, a quality inherent to productions born from a vast catalog of influence (and the inseparable sample material). Jonny conjures euphoric acid flashbacks, herds of crowds through Istanbul alleys, the misty morning residue from raves of yore, orchestral winds blown across the Aegean riviera, and he manages to concentrate their essence into singular details such as a snare drum. Both sides of his eternally-awaited ESP debut lean toward his dark arts—'Tye Die Techno' drives a relentless hard-edged drum kit that could throw an otherwise self-respecting Goth into a heated breakdance battle, while the title track and theme, 'Ode To A Happening On Earth,' plays with the imagery of ritual, fantasy and role-playing—but throughout this malevolent stew, there is a sustained hint of the artist's playful nature. No matter how murky the trip becomes, Jonny is always there, a light at the end of the tunnel, with a big hug to reassure that everyone will be OK. He is one clever bastard—if you know, you know.

Roman Flügel needs no introduction, so lets not hammer on about his lengthy history as a kingpin of contemporary German dance music, his essential contributions to the musical evolution of Darmstadt and Frankfurt, his achievements as a virtuosic multi-instrumentalist traversing genres with remarkable grace, his sense of dynamism and urgency in the construction of big-room anthems or the meticulously woven textures of melancholy found throughout his minimalist work, his ability to pay homage to pioneers of his musical heritage without diverting to pastiche, his fearless combination of familiar melody with synthesized aberration and imperfection, his approach to instrumentation as Haiku poetry where the ordinary is made profound through simple isolation, his rejection of stylistic pretense and acceptance of comforts found in the constructs of folk and pop, his contrast of cold efficiency with a warm naivete´, his yearning to return down previously-forged paths with a new accumulation of experience, the confidence to paint the room blue when it was meant to be black, his belief that a beautifully executed idea will always transcend the need for incessant polishing, the way in which he leads arrangements to the edge and only implies a resolve, his framing of musical narratives as sketches, outlines, or skeletons where the listener's perception compliments the whole, or his notion that sometimes stories might not need a clear articulation but might only come through in hints of mood, pace, and color, a language which doesn't rely on words to communicate but which paints for us in Themes. Yes, rather than hearing our attempt to elaborate on Roman's Flu¨gel's debut album with the ESP Institute, lets just simply listen.

Robotron is the machine formerly known as Xinner. This is its first offering for the ESP Institute. Side A's Dream Resonator is an idiosyncratic network — dexterous machine drum/percussion programming, an ebb and flow of floating arpeggios, syncopated counter-melodies and a hail of stabbing stringscontinually diffusing into ethereal vapor — all stacked into an (aptly-named) orchestral anthem. Side B's Ice takes a similar approach with arrangement, each instrument carving out its place in the track's mechanics for a glorious convergence of patterns, but, where side A proves optimistic, here we sense a more menacing undercurrent, an austerity powerfully articulated through towering kicks and claps so compressed they fill up every dark corner of negative space. Indeed, Robotron has an innate command for building and calibrating robust systems, but beneath this calculated veil we find the remnant human behavior of Xinner. These two songs will whisper loudly but scream quietly.

Autre fell asleep in a gondola and awoke in the Krankenhaus. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. Side A's Everybody In The Past is sharp techno aimed for the alleys of your mind — gritty, driving, and melodic combinations of blown-out drums and classic electro riffs that relentlessly sprint for a good 4 minutes before a squelching arpeggio and angelic solo kick in — tugging the heartstrings and lighting a beacon for those noble morning dancers lost at the front left speaker, channeling from the deep. On Side B, Frigo completely dismantles any expectations you might have after listening to its predecessor. An undoubtedly seductive Samba rhythm comprised of distant snares, rim shots and cowbells holds together an aggressively active bassline, a steel drum harmony and synth solo that crawl all over like a funky worm. This track is truly something special, a gift for the prodigious selector — when dropped in the deserved context, it has the potential to unlock unprecedented levels of euphoria. These two songs are as fluid as a paintbrush yet precise as a scalpel.

In 2017, Benedikt Frey released his breathtaking debut album with the ESP Institute, Artificial, and now as we finally come up for air, we're more than proud to offer an eclectic collection of remixes that's nothing short of essential. Side A leads with H For Hysteria remixed by a beloved hero, Nicolas Chaix a.k.a. I:Cube, one of the most prolific and respected electronic artists Paris has to offer. His touch is considered and elegant, imbuing the track with a tasteful 303+808 backbone to support an array of patiently floating melodies and angelic vocal samples. Following this, Tolouse Low Trax of Du¨sseldorf's infamous Salon Des Amateurs remixes the same track, stripping instrumentation down to a skeletal palette of bass guitar and stabbing percussive punctuations, chopped up inna minimalist stylee that has become his beat-making signature. Side B leads with a remix by another Du¨sseldorfer, DJ Normal 4, whose re-imagination of Private Crimes takes us for an even more menacing ride, half-timing the tempo and skillfully rolling out a barrage of jungle snares from rave days of yore. Closing the release is the most aggressive remix of them all, a bonafide techno beatdown of the same track by DALO, the co-producing artist to whose haunting vocals lace the original version. Her dark vision opens with sparse industrial drums that blossom into a driving assault of raw machinery, definitely not for the faint-of-heart. An all-around solid release here, fun for all the family... more than just the tip!

Ground is an Osaka native, but his soul is truly that of a nomad, traversing the planet, befriending kindred spirits found in humans, animals and plants. He is exceptionally receptive to the beauty in everything that surrounds him—the incidental music of a city street, the orchestral chaos of a scrambling radio, the syncopated grace of migrating birds, the simplicity of an isolated hand clap—and as his roadmap continuously unfolds, he accumulates a vast catalogue of visceral tools to musically recount his experiences. Sunizm is a cross section of the artist's process—an array of complex microcosms overlapping to comprise a thematic whole—gathering field recordings, found instruments, jagged electronics, synthesized chanting, and weaving all into a dense narrative that appears obsessively constructed yet divinely improvised. Logos is the first of two singles surrounding the album and is complimented with a monster remix by Bartellow (a fellow ESP artist, collaborator and good friend of Ground) as well as a secret weapon b-side entitled Discopazzle, which is exclusive to this single release. Attention all humans, animals and plants, Ground and the ESP Institute present, Sunizm.

Ground is an Osaka native, but his soul is truly that of a nomad, traversing the planet, befriending the kindred spirits found in humans, animals and plants. He is exceptionally receptive to the beauty in all that surrounds him—the incidental music of a busy city street, the orchestrated chaos of a scrambling radio, the syncopated grace of a migrating flock of birds, the simplicity of an isolated hand clap—and as his map continuously unfolds, he accumulates a vast catalogue of visceral tools to complex musically recount his experiences. Sunizm is a cross section of the artist's process—an array of complex microcosms overlapping to comprise a thematic whole—gathering field recordings, found instrumentation, jagged electronics, and synthesized chanting, to be woven into a dense narrative that appears both obsessively constructed and divinely improvised. With each consecutive track, the artist gradually constructs hypnotic patterns that 1-up the mind as it struggles to break free from a seduction of loops, steadily intensifying until reaching an apex of sound collage so cerebral that the listener might consider a post-album shower. But alas, the fourth quarter releases a bit of pressure, our gobs still lay smacked but there is a warm confidence as the psychedelic trial delivers us home to nod out. Dear humans, animals and plants, Ground and the ESP Institute present, Sunizm.

Sharif Laffrey can charm the snake out of any basket. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. Side A's Tangier is a long drawn-out exercise, an endurance test of the highest order. Over the span of some thirteen minutes, elements bob and weave intermittently and layers overlap haphazardly—the type of exciting dynamic that's born out of restriction—as if putting down a live jam without enough hands to work the console, yet Sharif perseveres. As touch and go as this arrangement may be, there is something that undoubtedly glues it all in place; the combination of his massive rolling 16th-note bassline and his tough-as-nails drumkit is so good that, upon first listen, we spat out our tea and insisted on its release. On side B, Everything Is Nice carries on with loose arrangement, dirty production and layers of inexplicable spoken- word samples (a Sharif calling card by now) but this time we're lead to a melancholy place, the blue comedown to Side A's antagonistic trial. With his ESP Institute debut, Sharif leaves you mentally unhinged, as if you've smoked something interesting and arrived bewildered in some Saharan labyrinth. These two songs will guide you through the medina to score the black meat.

Greenvision is the collaborative brainchild of two ESP Institute artists, Juan Ramos and Luca Trentini AKA Trent, both longtime fixtures of Berlin's infamous playground known as Cocktail d'Amore. Separately, these two explore their own very personal avenues of expression, putting their time in the trenches and endlessly polishing their works (this makes Juan's third release with the label), but when their efforts overlap we're gifted a view into their uncanny synergy. Juan and Trent channel an exorbitant amount of smoke-fueled creativity, building layers upon layers into music so dense that the bulk of their studio time might then be spent navigating and formalizing their output into tangible tracks. Greenvison's collective debut with the ESP Institute showcases three intense cerebral workouts, Banana Paradiso, Rambutan and The Color Of Maracuja, an array of experiments pulling from all the corners of the duo's imagination—it is disorienting, cacophonous, introverted and psychedelic, but at the same time playful, melodic, euphoric and undoubtably arresting—guaranteed to induce hallucinations under proper circumstances. We welcome the induction of Greenvision to the ESP Institute, and with us as your guide, we welcome you to accompany on our descent into their abyss. Try not to get lost.

It's a pleasure to get behind your friends from around world, in fact that's the motive behind the breadth of the ESP Institute catalogue, but its truly a special feeling to represent your friends and your neighborhood at the same time. Producers Sonns (Alexandre Mouracade) and the mysterious Venice Beach native Tavish Graham are both long time friends of the ESP Institute family, we break bread, we take care of each other, and we cherish our collaborations more than anything, but we're also neighbors. That said, ESP is proud to announce a homegrown endeavor, the debut of Sonns & Tavish. The two have long been stewards of the Los Angeles underground, but after loads of early morning banter and the camaraderie that comes with this smoke'n'strobe life, they've now committed their singular vision to print—two epic cuts that make us proud. Side A's title track Trycksaker is a thumper, a mid-tempo big-drum-laden beast that chugs the whole way through carrying an array of eerie bleeps and fleeting sighs. Side B's Roguish Days pulls together influences from various corners of the pair's DJ repertoire, gelling a wicked breakbeat with a wormy acid bassline and even more exotic sighs, something that might possibly grow into a signature of sorts. This release is ready just in time for the Spring/Summer exploits, and we couldn't be more proud to finally enjoy hearing these heavy-hitters in the club. Tip!

Toby Tobias has a lengthy history of disturbing the peace. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, Second Stimulus stirs shimmering staccato chords, roaming pipes and detuned robotic sighs into quite the disorienting stew—the loose arrangement remaining fragmented over 9 minutes of touch-and-go 808 programming, picking up a pseudo bassline assembled from sub toms, introducing a gritty break loop and eventually blissing out into oblivion. With side B's Synchro Surfer, Toby plays with the notion of suspense by gently teasing a muted kick and percussion rhythm under washes of white noise, bleeps and sirens that are tape-dubbed and which, over time, begin a dialogue with each other, as if the machines have declared mutiny on the garage. Toby continues to stretch his limits with his output for the ESP Institute, possibly headed toward a full-fledged devolution of conventional dance music. These two songs may have you arrested for public nuisance.

What attracts us to Chilean-born artist Ricardo Tobar is the notion of intersection, and although fusion is nothing new, as a concept it will always pull our heartstrings. Applying influence is amateur, we see this over and over again as we endure trend-driven appropriation of cultures the world over, but the epiphany when an artist finds true synergy between heritage and influence is a pivotal moment that the inspired will seek, even though it may take the length of one's career to behold. As pretentious as that may sound, it is precisely the hybrid born from that place of intersection that
excites us at the ESP Institute, the 'A plus B that equals 3'. We hear this in Ricardo's music — the Latin American instinct in his drums and percussion, sometimes tightly aligned with body movements and other times hauntingly mis-aligned and chaotic, intersects with his rock influence of ethereal (micro) melodies that slowly layer and layer until we're climbing a glorious (macro) wall of sound — but most importantly we hear where these different parts of his life come together to further create one unique voice. On both sides of his ESP Institute debut Liturgia, Tobar couples one pulsing dance-driven track with another atmospheric and immersive track, requiring we educate ourselves in the polarity of this language he's building, one that will expand to tell a broader story later this year with his debut album. We welcome Ricardo Tobar, another forward-thinking artist, to the ESP Institute, and are proud to support any direction his compass points from here, as we believe he'll never follow but will always lead.

Toby Tobias can be found in the shadows of South London. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, 'Gravitator' evolves slowly over ten minutes from a somber intro of supernatural sighs, pulsing machine feedback and techno squelches into an ethereal landscape peppered with dissonant fragments of synth. With side B's 'Right Turn To Nowhere', Toby stretches out even further, flexing a tasteful programming of the 808 while taking the long road to a reverb-drenched crescendo of distortions and expansive string swells. After a prolific output of material for other quality labels around the world, Toby Tobias has undoubtedly re-focused his point-of-view upon his induction to the ESP Institute. These two songs will have you locking up your children at night.

Bartellow has long been associated with the ESP Institute though Tambien, a trio formed alongside Bavarian cohorts Marvin and Valentino, who have released seminal dancefloor material over recent years. With his debut album Panokorama, we are invited into a completely different world of Bartellow's creation—a place where influences become a melting pot of mood, nuance and texture, and where instrumentation is abstracted from a variety of cultures, including those that exist solely within his imagination. Bartellow has found a way to merge Primitivism with Retrofuturism, identifying their point of intersection and reveling in their union across ten songs. While his academic background as a Jazz musician certainly informs both his progressive approach to composition and non-linear production, it is his obsession with electronics and synthesis that shape his current musical climate. The title Panokorama stems from Bartellow's visualization of the album, a surreal landscape with a foreign presence centrally embedded, a 'panorama' punctuated by a 'ko'—although a hybrid word that reads as nonsense, it somehow feels and sounds just right.

Vactrol Park is an honest outpouring of thematic obsession, a celebration of championed studio components and the mastery of their nuance, an avant garde collaboration between Kyle Martin (Land of Light, Spectral Empire) and Guido Zen (Gamers in Exile, Brain Machine). Simply entitled "I" (the first of a 2 part series), this debut EP opens the door to a world of ebb and flow, layers of oscillation falling in and out of sync, keeping us on the brink of vertigo and, as cliché as it may sound, we find solace in its chaos. This homogeneous release plays with the notions of systems as beautifully symbolized Mario Hugo's capsule of cardiology—yet another visually arresting module in the ESP Institute catalogue. Some music is made for drugs, some is made on drugs, these tracks simply are drugs.

Prolific beat pharmacist par excellence Brendon Moeller continues his hot streak with a return to Samurai to serve up the exquisite craftsmanship of Shadow Language. Across 15 fresh productions the seasoned house and techno producer demonstrates yet more variations on his rejuvenated sound since pivoting towards 160 tempo zones. Heavyweight dub techno pulses collide with D&B pressure and dubstep snarl, delivered with devastating restraint and mediative warmth.

Moeller's dub-informed, high-grade production hit a hot streak as he started to experiment with faster tempos and more broken rhythms, reaching into thrilling new sound fields where fast-slow rhythmic intrigue meets with spatial subtlety and constantly evolving synth voices. The past year has seen him release a swathe of albums, from Further on Samurai to outings on Constellation Tatsu, ESP Institute and Quiet Details that all burst with inspiration, each distinct from the last and offering an original perspective on this rich seam of crossover electronics.

Shadow Language shows Moeller burrowing even deeper into this new era of his work, continuing the hypnotic approach set out on Further while edging more forthright ingredients into the mix. From the outset 'Division By Zero' hits with immediacy even as it dips into a dubwise breakdown, with snatches of vocal and even the iconic loom bird making the slightest of appearances. 'Feral Hymn' finds a curious kind of uplift in the synth chord that twists in and out of the mental techno murmurations of the rhythm section. 'Impermanence' has some snarling bass that belongs in the gnarliest tech-step, while the nagging hats ticking through 'Junkyard Syntax' hint at a shockout without resorting to brute force. The majestic dub techno chords of 'Driftform' create a through-line across Moeller's extensive catalogue, but here they dominate the mix above a spongy bed of sub bass throb and framed by the tiniest slithers of percussion.

Throughout the album, it's the implications Moeller suggests with the tools at his disposal that create a powerful energy. Restraint governs the delivery, guiding the listener in deeper until they find a maximal experience from each elegantly understated roller. The weight and presence is abundant across every track, fuelled by the invigorating power of each tone and frequency while avoiding the clutter of overloaded arrangements.

Finding the notes in between and half-hidden rhythms, Moeller himself perfectly summed up his latest opus as he continues to develop his own compelling Shadow Language.

Emotional Especial reaches a landmark with its 50th release. Started in 2012 as a “dancier & trippier”, club friendly spin off, sub label to Emotional Response, it has gone on to forge a path, releasing a myriad of artists including the opening release by Jamie Paton (Cage & Aviary / ESP Institute) to Richard Sen (Bronx Dogs), the debut of Khidja (Malka Tuti / DFA) and on to unearthing the breaks masters Alphonse (Klasse Wrecks) and Junior Fairplay (Crimes Of The Future), the uplifting Italo influenced Lauer (Robert Johnson), the new wave anthem of Sfire (featuring Sophie), plus perfect remixes bt Kris Baha (CockTail D’amore) and INHALT (Dark Entries), the NYC pop-rave-vox of Kim Ann Foxman, through to showcasing upcoming artists like Berlin’s Giraffi Dog (Aiwo Recs) and the global acid adventures of Akio Nagase (Chill Mountain) to most recently, the slo-mo trance muscle of 53X and post-rave uplighters of Remotif (Space Lab) and DJ 1985.

As with every 10th release on the label, the label present a various artists “Showcase” of what and where the label is. Aptly it is recent signing 53X who opens Gracias Especial with the bounce of Radar. Finland’s Jonne Lydén debut EP on Especial, Zen ’23 came out of nowhere, more than simply riding a zeitgeist of the “Trance Revival”, his all-live analogue symphonies drop the bpms, presenting widescreen beats, darkroom bass, sirens and tripped out vox all mix to propel a singularly driven.

Taking things much deeper has been the hallmark of Jamie Paton’s remixes for the label. As well as providing the opening EP in 2013, designing every sleeve and producing 20 remixes and counting another 2 for the label here, it’s impossible not to associate Especial with Jamie’s music. First, he reworks rising star DJ, but recent break out producer Chez De Milo, with a trademark dub excursion that takes the ethnic origins of Kremer to a space echo wonderland. Space is the place, the lulling beats, see you falling through the gaps, true dub style.

Alphonse makes a rightful return to Especial, with Raze Rave highlighting the allusive producers’ unique understanding of the varied history of rave culture via a techno-suite of soundscapes, perfectly mixing uplifting breaks, memory inducing vocal samples and dub bass, with a nod to the pop sensibility that rave encompassed, while being that allusive “lost chord” moment of man and machine.

The finale returns to the trance acid expanse of 53X, with the mastery of label stalwart Jamie Paton. An apt marriage, Paton takes the title cut from Lydén’s debut EP and crafts a trademark durge-dub, where TB303 and space echo intertwine with the De Witte vocal, hinting at touches of dub, new wave, trance and acid house all in one melting pot of sound the label optimistically termed “Protoid” back at inception of summer 2013.

All those creatures, standing there, making time. Fury eyes, golden dust on artificial fog. Dancing on glass, repetitive poems, looping long after the last loop looped away. Oriental acid, frenzied samples, low hanging film noir suspense. This is DALO. Or not. She is many. Dry maniac downbeat is her craft. Or dark-ish pop-not-pop. There is dub, trance, techno, too. She is known for releases on labels like ESP Institute, WARNING, or Tresor. She is part of bands like Init. She played them all, those clubs, that matter, and those that matter more. Live. Alone. As an artist. With a band. Here she comes with her first album. On the R.i.O. sphere. Her homebase. A trusted zone for experimentation. She brings “Duster”. Seven tunes twisted in different dreams. Fast, slow, veiled, enchanted, haunting trenchant. She sings. These songs. To dance. For a different, stripped-back trance. DALO. Her record longs for a stage. Exporting grace, face to face. A work like a mirror. Hypnotizing. A psychedelic portrait of a performer. Nuanced industrial veils ceremonial journey music. Claps, Jungle. Desolate vocal snippets. A whirlwind of words. All those chords, hanging there, kick drum time. Fury eyes, golden horns amid acid fog. Dancing on glass, cyclic synth-lines. DALO. Duster. A-round-and-a-around. Circulating the ritual.