Hail to the latest Tiefschwarz weight loss program — you’re always bound to sweat off a few kilos in their deep house gym, though this is a straighter, narrower circuit compared to the sometime off-the-cuff kinks of say, Chocolate. Between their customary furrows through the night (Dischords) and teasers of beats lighter on their feet (Axel Boman’s “Cubic Mouth”), your schedule finds the sweeter scents of Eric Volta & Jonny Cruz and the almost inevitable appearance of Koze’s “Royal Asscher Cut,” amidst travels through synth pop provocations. Ewan Pearson acts on behalf of Bachar Mar-Khalife, and Michael Mayer plays hard nosed yet immaculately manicured. Knox’s offer of a lovingly weightless there-there, as Ali & Basti roll in blue grass, approves the mix’s unity under disco lights (or lack of them).
Though the burn you feel is not a trial by hot coals, Martinez & Carballo will sound better if you get your head down. Tiefschwarz’ “Voices” and Elon’s “Andres” test you as the mix’s mugginess starts to rise and drowsiness drifts in time with fluctuating blood sugar levels, and the gritted teeth of Kenny Leaven wants your all or nothing. Put work in and thou shalt be rewarded – those rewards being Dyed Soundorom’s immaculate swing jacker, Sonodab’s funky worm, and more synth turns through constellations. Tiefschwarz’ turning of the reps up and down gets you plenty of variation subtly locking together the transparent and translucent.
Must…not…use…the…phrase…musical journey… However, both discs start with hall-of-famer François K asking you whether you are dancing comfortably with the offer of poolside house and funky grins, before progressing into barbarian techno seeing the spinner turn from easygoing accommodator to sinew-snapping overlord. Kevorkian is chancing his arm to be honest; his ears have obviously never left the streets, yet you’d hazard a guess that not everyone who starts with him stays to the end.
Seeing the sun dip until eyeballing its fiery fury quickly dissolves the homely introductions, Daniel Avery & Factory Floor herald disc one’s change in pressure with eerily wound synth lines and acid rebounds. The party is both over and just warming up, heading steadily deeper and darker despite the upbeat resistance of Detroit Swindle, and Kevorkian holding his nerve in the furnace’s ensuing heat with Marcus Worgull & Peter Padeike’s “Salam.” Scuba starts to blister the dance floor with drawn out domination, and to follow this with Locked Groove’s Balearic soother “Dream Within a Dream” is like an ice lolly to a sore throat. A Made Up Sound and Blawan then replace the tranquilizer with raging hot chillies.
Assured assertion and funky, tropical seasoning has the good times flowing through Michel de Hey & Flashmob. Sunshine streaks from disc two’s every corner until again, François’ predatory hunting and digital deconstruction starts to storm the place, letting rumbling techno shot-callers Stephen Brown and Gary Beck shear you with their hi-hats.