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Dutch DJ, producer and Wolfskuil label boss Darko Esser is to self-release his sophomore album, Anipintiros, in April 2014. The eight track album comes four years after his debut and is his first as Tripeo, the techno leaning alias he has been working under most often in recent times.

Working as Tripeo has reinvigorated Esser, who under his own name has been producing his unique take on electronic music for a decade now. 'It was liberating to have another persona take over,' says the man himself. 'I have been so inspired and productive ever since that I woke up one day with the thought 'I'm ready to do another album' and started straight away that day.'

Tripeo music is aimed squarely at the dancefloor, and there sure are some full blooded cuts on the album, but so to are there concessions to the listening experience, meaning deep, dark passages and more leftfield experiments help tie the whole thing together into one cohesive and coherent whole. 'Like all albums, this is a very personal statement,' explains Esser. 'It's just me trying to translate the overwhelming inspiration I feel right now into sound. That, and making the record as diverse as possible without losing the purist identity of Tripeo.'

That identity shines through right from the off on the album, which has been made using a knowing blend of both soft and hardware. 'Anipintiros #1' is a firmly rooted, rubbery bit of deep techno that works you into hypnosis and comes detailed with plenty of otherworldly ambiances. From there, Tripeo explores gallivanting techno run through with celestial pads on 'Anipintiros #2' and tripped out, ever shape shifting and dusty minimal sounds on 'Anipintiros #3'.

'Anipintiros #4' channels the widescreen and pumping techno of Detroit's finest whilst 'Anipintiros #5' is a more industrial and muscular track of the sorts that would sound perfect in the bowels of Berghain. 'Anipintiros #6' is one of the busier and more kinked techno rhythms with punchy drums and fax machine like melodies, before 'Anipintiros #7' thumps with real menace and 'Anipintiros #8' hums and hisses, spits and stutters like the suitably epic and melodic comedown you need after such a captivating ride.Everything, though is backed with serene synth work and an otherworldly sense of alien spirit that runs through all great techno.

There is plenty to get lost in throughout Anipintiros and it proves once again that Esser is someone able to coax far more feeling out of his machines than most.

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Early support from Blawan, Rødhåd, James Ruskin, Reeko, Exium, Mike Parker, Ben Sims, Rolando, Pfirter, Craig McWhinney, Cadans, Sandrien, Nuno Dos Santos

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Some friends think that Shihab the man owes the balance of his soul to his beautiful Danish wife. They may be right; for Eros is the very essence of what Shihab plays.Yet Eros is a god with many a face. A tale of tender mournings Shihab's flute is telling in MAUVE - a piece that translates its title into delicately changing colors of sound. In UMA FITA DE TRES CORES he has his instrument wooing with the proud self-reliance of Latin grandezza. Calmly, softly, almost blandishly Shihab blows the solo flute in the Jimmy Woode composition MY KINDA WORLD. Serene and somewhat playful his own title ANOTHER SAMBA comes along - a most uncommon composition by the way: lasting for sixty bars as if growing independent out of itself, with solos that appear to be additional spinnings rather than improvised choruses; and yet; a perfect, self sustaining melody no element of which is superfluous. In the last of the pieces for flute, in Klook Clarke's THE WILD MAN, which is based on a flourish of trumpets, Shihab for the first time reminds of the sombre, the demon-like face of God Eros. He contrasts flawlessly intoned passages with challenging phrases, phrases raucously sung into the flute - really, he is a 'wild man' who is playing like that. This raucous challenging sound prevails throughout the four baritone-titles ('Shihab never withholds long to caress', Campi says). Shihab blows the instrument the same way he speaks: without any delay, directly coming to the point. And he treats it like a voice, not aiming at an artificially homogeneous sound in all the registers, but at their different modes of expression. In the high pitches the horn gains a brilliant tenor-like quality - for instance in PETER'S WALTZ, dedicated to Shihab's son Peter, and in Kenny Clarke's simple drum fills comprising theme JAY-JAY. In the deep register Shihab produces snotty sounds filling lady's ears with horrors like Pan - thus in JAY-JAY and in the boppy blues SET UP . Shihab's sense of a scurrilous humor breaks through in SEEDS (which reminds of the West-African heritage of jazz with its multiple rhythms and its renunciation of harmonious development - only the eight bars of the bridge base on a progression of chords): not only does he omit the notorious bombastic chord by the ensemble after his own final cadenza, he even ends with a minor second above the keynote. Seems as if Shihab now unrestrictedly conveys to his music all the experiences and emotions he formerly did not deal with in a musical way. Shihab the man need not be disturbed so that Shihab the musician may improvise passionate choruses. It would be unjust, however, to forget the choruses of the four other musicians for those by the 'born leader'. Francy Boland, taciturn and always introverted: he plays an extrovert, a masculine piano. Even with spare single note lines he produces a piercing and ringing sound that hitherto nobody except him has discovered, a bluesy sound bespeaking the very element of frustration that lies within the title of the trio number WHO'LL BUY MY DREAM. The unfailing feeling for rhythm the musicians of the CBBB praise with the arranger Boland, becomes manifest in the piano solo on SET UP. Francy's improvisation is rhythmically styled in a Monk-like manner, and yet no accent could be set differently. Maybe this is the secret of the Shihab-Combo. 'Rhythm is our business', this credo of Jimmy Lunceford could be the one of the five musicians as well. Sadi hits his vibes as dryly as if wanting to bring its ancestors to memory, the wooden chimes of West Africa's coastal tribes. To reach the fullest poignancy possible, he intentionally calms down even the resonance in MY KINDA WORLD. In UMA FITA DE TRES CORES Jimmy Woode bears out the crispy jazz beat against Sadi's Bongos and Klook's Latin-American percussion all by himself. Moreover - and that, too, is connected with the school of the Duke who was the first in the history of jazz to discover the instrument's potential as a melody instrument - Woode rips a marvelous counterpoint to the inventions of the other melody instruments, take for example PETER'S WALTZ. And then there is Kenny Clarke. Klook. On the entire record he only uses his brushes. Means by which different drummers only know to bring forward impressionistically blending noises: He drums a vigorous beat with them, fanciful fills, a solo, melodious and at once skillfully playing with cross rhythms in JAY-JAY. The 'born leader', the 'outstanding baritone saxophonist of modern jazz' (Joachim-Ernst Berendt), he could not wish himself different sidemen for this record overdue since some years.

The Descent of Man EP is the third and last part of a trilogy on vinyl dedicated to Charles Darwin studies. This final chapter is focused on the darkest side of electronic music and his impact on human psychology. As Charles Darwin studied the evolution of physical and mental traits, we want to show how obscure, trembling and aggressive sounds generate an increasing sense of agitation and loss while mild and gloomy atmospheres can relieve the body and brain, achieving a peaceful state of mind.
Don't be afraid to move into a shady space. This is not the end even if it could be.

Autumn is inevitable, so is another 12' from Absys Records. This time it's an album sampler for the forthcoming second compilation by the name of 'Mystical Deep vol 2'. In a similar vein to the previous wax release, we've got three exceptional tracks to present to you.

The new album will be released across a series of 4 limited edition 12" vinyls. This is the 2nd 12 inch From Tronic Jazz The Berlin Sessions. A Guy Called Gerald has spent the last couple of years flitting through shadows, turning up on labels like Perlon, Beatstreet and Sender like a peripatetic prophet of the Berlin underground, seeding the scene with cryptic singles that return to the past to suggest alternate futures. Now he returns to Berlin's Laboratory Instinct label with the follow-up to 2006's Proto Acid: The Berlin Sessions, the album that re-established Gerald as an acid hero and techno auteur. Tronic Jazz: The Berlin Sessions builds upon the foundation established by its predecessor to create an even more powerful statement of intent, one that communicates more persuasively than ever Gerald's vision for techno in its third decade of existence. One immediate difference stands out, this time around. Where Proto Acid offered a seamless mix of 24 cuts, recorded in one epic session, Tronic Jazz collects 13 standalone tracks. That's welcome news to DJs. After so many years of digital anything-goes, you might have forgotten the kind of sounds that are possible with "old" machines: the way a lead stacked against tuned percussion and shrouded in pads can evoke still other sounds, hidden in the mix, or maybe not really there at all. It's a ghostly, suggestive presence, a kind of evocation of infinite possibility within the context of a limited set of inputs. In that sense, Tronic Jazz follows a certain minimalist impulse, but it's far too lush ever to be mistaken for the dread "mnml" of recent years. This stuff is wide-eyed and full of life. When it funks, it funks hard, and when it smoothes out, it can be as intimate as a hand-written note left on a lover's pillow. As "class ic" as Tronic Jazz may be, the album refutes any notion that "class ic" equals "retro," that the ideas have all been expressed before. Tronic Jazz takes the foundations of house and techno as though they were a kind of language, and speaks volumes with them.

Hui Terra. The dreamlike shape of the half-heard word, abstracts with faint impressions of bucolic landscape, or handfuls of translucent and brightly-colored gemstones that hold odd, elusive, asymmetrical form. This enchanting, gently surreal debut album from Alex Cobb's Etelin project explores the power and playfulness of impulsive action diffused through electro-acoustic and ambient sound.

This music was created with digital synthesizers and a sampler in the four months immediately following the birth of his first child, a hazy period marked by a lack of regular sleep and a diet of INA-GRM, Nuno Canavarro's "Plux Quba", and Microstoria's "Init Ding" - records that appeared to produce both stimulating and soothing effects on a newborn's nascent consciousness. Recorded and arranged at all hours, this is an album that reflects on moments of tumult and fragility. Cobb sews small sharpnesses and surprises into its movements to uncover different aspects of each sound source, doubling as hypnic starts cast to advance and variate the narrative in subtle and unexpected ways. Sound and atmosphere manifest in eccentric, alchemical fashion, as though forming in processes of sublimation - solids dissipating into vapor - and deposition - clouds resolving and dropping to the ground in piles - to an obscure and domestic rhythm. There's the purveying sense of moving within the boundaries of small, hermetic ecosystem. This is underscored and doused by a slow, blooming sense of warmth; growing joy without bombast. Even the more startling textures conceal this same truth and emphasis, such as the alien, sour salt-butter electronic babble in "Little Rig", largely sampled from Cobb's son's voice at just a week old. It is emotional music - devoted, affectionate, and playful.