- It can be disconcerting when minimal techno produces something overwhelming from so little, and here Luciano and Thomas Melchior have created something massive. With Melchior of Playhouse involved one might have expected something punchy and sleek, but it all leans closer to Luciano productions, situated comfortably in that percussive style of Chilean minimal: long slow arcs that unfold and develop, subtly, over long durations. It will certainly find favour with Villalobos, adhering to his vision of a techno that moves forward never-endingly, with barely perceptible shifts within tracks and between records.
It is, however, less patient than Villalobos releases, and consequently more immediately gratifying. 'Solomon's Prayer' opens with snippets of vocodered muttering as maracas and kicks mask a blurred procession of musique concrete snatches before proper hats make an appearance five minutes in. Perhaps too spacious and windswept to function on its own, its neat percussive skip nonetheless hints of grander things to come, and that is amply delivered on the b-side.
After a few seconds of that same fogged-out scenery, 'Father' leaps in to one of the most glorious combinations of percussion and bass to have appeared on record. Simple hats, kick and snare keep time beside a bamboo wind chime which plonks out a disorientating off-kilter two-tone swing, a sliding three-note bass pattern that only rears its head once every four bars, and claves and congas covered in humidity. A sermon on the permanence of the soul (appropriate here) is delivered in accented English, like Thomas Brinkmann's motorik spoken-word jams, alongside n-th generation tones, grit and sparkle, thin and washed out. Things move along in this fashion for thirteen stunning minutes before abruptly stopping, as there's no tactful way of ending this. Relentless, simple, almost perfect, this is music that could go on forever.
A Solomon's Prayer