- Mathew Jonson has been responsible for some of the most indelible moments of techno of this decade. Put together an album of his best productions—"Marionette," "Decompression," "Return of the Zombie Bikers," "Symphony for the Apocalypse," "Folding Space"—and you'd have a classic of machine devotion on par with Minimal Nation. As a result, it makes sense that Wagon Repair would devote its 50th release to the producer who has brought the imprint much of its early acclaim. (Three of Wagon Repair's first ten releases were Jonson solo works.)
The two tracks here fall neatly into line with Jonson's best works. "Walking On The Hands That Follow Me" wobbles with the best of his dancier material, extending an unsteady hand outward for nearly half its length before introducing a digitized voice to the proceedings and shifting to a higher gear. Strings invade, cutting off into a jagged rhythm that will likely have you giving the WTF face on the dance floor, but at home it sounds like rote Jonson—a nice groove overlaid with some self-conscious weirdness. I'm all for moments of rupture, but here it sounds forced, as though Jonson put together two ideas he had been working on because they were close enough to work.
"When Love Feels Like Crying," meanwhile, is reminiscent of "Symphony for the Apocalypse" in its tone. For synesthesia fans, I get blue—as they're both elegant, slow-moving tracks that revel in the simple beauty of tone clusters and their power to evoke feeling. Jonson runs the melody through numerous effects units instead of developing it much, and it's the right choice. Free to simply be, it works as an elegy and a track worthy of its title.
A Walking On The Hands That Follow Me
B When Love Feels Like Crying