Bleep

As Richie Hawtin’s earliest releases reach their thirty year anniversaries, they show no signs of ageing, remaining some of the most inventive techno ever laid to wax. Plastikman is arguably his most beloved of aliases, under which he recorded masterclasses in expressive and illustrative synthesis. The project’s second album Musik is devoted to the plasticity of dancefloor sounds, just as much a sequel to the previous Sheet One as it is an expansive rewrite.

Taking the foreboding 909 direction of previous material, Hawtin injects it with weaving 303 lines and astute dancefloor explorations from ultra dark minimal atmospherics to anthemic acid bangers. The prickly kicks and gurgling acid of ‘Konception’ slowly drum up layers, exploring all possible manipulations and contortions within its extended runtime, and you can practically feel the voltage pulsing as thunderclaps draw breath. Indeed, there is a deeply physical aspect to Musik; as the album progresses Hawtin becomes more experimental, constructing pure and unadulterated multilayered arrangements like in the echo rich soundscape of ‘Kriket’. Sharp synthetic croaks remain undisturbed for almost two minutes before a landslide of drum machines descend in jittery swathes.

Of course, the techno ragers still abound. The theme of ‘Fuk’ needs no explanation, represented through absolutely pummelling rhythms and whipping winds. It’s mechanical yet molten, amorphous, squishy sound design that permeates the tracklist: the short but enticing ‘Goo’ rebounding with pneumatic reverb fills, the frothing thrashes and spine cracking strings of synth beeps on ‘Kiropraktor’, the spanners and sheet metal and jackhammers and frequency shifting sparks of ‘Elektrix’. It’s like abstract sound art and coursing club stompers merged into one, glued together by vigorous acid basslines that Hawtin shapes into anything imaginable as he makes minimal techno palettes sound active and teeming with life.