Review Summary: Berry good album
For Stimming, house and techno are fever dreams built and broken to the pulse of beats so slick that they always, always,
always hit it cleaner and more meticulously than any physical responses you have to offer – and yet, his latest effort
Elderberry might be the first time I've found myself thoroughly in step. On 2016's acclaimed
Alpe Lusia, it was unclear (intriguingly so!) whether his chief focus was chamber-augmented melodic mystique or club-addled cyclical wooze (its intricate successor
Ludwig refracted the former through a disorienting range of lenses, but has next to nothing in common with
Elderberry). From a production perspective,
Alpe Lusia's balance between cinematic flourishes and obstinate repetition was seamless, but as a filthy consumer, I never got a firm grip on whether it worked better as a casual or immersive listen. I love deep house for losing my self and finding my body, but that record delivered such striking highlights with such majestic arrangements that it was just as easy to break the reverie, indulge my preferences, and spin those favourites on repeat for their dynamic payoffs and good ol' pretty motifs.
This non-criticism makes me extra appreciative of how effortlessly Stimming's latest record
Elderberry swallows me up into its mesmeric churn of beats and
gigantic, contourless bass. On this one, I am gone – time passes (how much? how little?), some swaying or nodding motion sets in, moments ensue with little mutual distinction yet a clear common impetus, and kick and toms pound away above and beyond all else. Melodic hand-holding goes out of the window here, and the buoyancy of house is largely ceded to a more spartan plane of minimal techno. What remains is
all rhythm, baby: Stimming throws us the occasional hook, as per "People Do"'s reprise of his orchestral palette, but this record is devoted to his mastery of hypnotic drum shuffles and
unholy bass rumble. Album highlight "Dfam on the Field" deploys both over an extended runtime that taps into sensory deprivation to make the most of each and every one of its delicious beat switches. It's a magnetic flex of percussive muscle that doubles down on a singular rhythm-centric appeal to uncompromising effect; if it turns an unsympathetic shoulder to anyone looking for a more modulated approach, this should be vindicated many times over among those of us who stick around. Get
you a producer who can hold the floor so rivetingly with so little on show.
This record being
singular should not imply monotony, and individual tracks retain their own points of attraction. One recalls a rich set of associations as such, from "The Seeker" scratching a similar itch to '90s rave pioneer Robert Hood, to "Seiler and Typhon"'s kinship with Andy Stott's choicest anxiety bangers, all the way to the dissonant tremor with which "Sandwurm" culminates, a distant echo of the Knife's claustrophobic masterpiece "Full of Fire". This ain't an album for cherry-pickers, though: you're either all over it or not at all, and I highly doubt it will carry the same appeal beyond its genre as
Alpe Lusia as such (though it is perhaps more graspable than
Ludwig). This does not bother me, and nor should it you. Stimming has made a killer record of filthy muscular smart dance music, and, much like his spotless beats, it sounds better on every play. Listen to it often and intimately.
