Prolific Seattle producer Jon McMillion returns to Nuearth Kitchen with another crucial chapter in his epic tale of haunted house-music subversions. He sets into motion a staunch, relentless house rhythm bolstered with congas, massed claps, synth-bass raspberries, and a badass male singer. Like Bohannon's disco-funk classics from the '70s, "Don't It Make You" seems like a tease, even at 10 minutes duration; you wish it would roll on for at least 30. On "Don't It Make You (edit 2)," McMillion strips things down to dance-floor essentials and erases some of the free-floating background weirdness. The two remixes are revelatory. New York house icon Fred P. (aka Black Jazz Consortium) slides the track into a tighter pair of pants, but that just makes it swivel harder and slyer. What a dreamy, soulful trip Fred P. conjures here. And rising German wunderkind Orson Wells layers and pitches up the original's cascades of bleeps, which becomes the dominant motif, and then subtly modulates said bleeps over the tune's seven minutes, while keeping that irrepressible rhythm strutting. McMillion's raw materials prove to be fertile ground for these two maverick remixers to flaunt their own fascinating quirks while maintaining the original cut's club-darkening and ass-moving functionality. More

Spectral Empire prove once again that they're some of the deepest producers working today. The UK duo—George Thompson (aka Black Merlin) and Kyle Martin (half of Land Of Light)—make their Nuearth Kitchen debut with two tracks of stunning depth and range. "Goloko Dhama" is one of those obsessive, white-knuckle pieces that seem too short, even at nearly nine minutes. It begins with muted, throbbing Native American tribal beats and an artfully cacophonous and warped metallic tone splatter. A disorienting, bass-y oscillation pulsates throughout the track like a forehead vein of an Olympic weightlifter, and with each passing minute Spectral Empire increase the music's strangeness and intensity. A stellar example of spy-thriller disco, "Goloko Dhama" induces an exhilarating paranoia not unlike that created in Can's epic "Mother Sky"; it keeps you moving while forcing you to look apprehensively over your shoulder. Sadhus are ascetic Hindus who reject the material world for a life of prayer, chanting, and meditation. The track "Sadhu" seems like it could be emanating from a Nepalese mountaintop after a morning ceremony. It begins with exotic tintinnabulation, distant bass ripples, and celestial temple drones and then gradually accrues a steely-eyed, tribal-disco propulsion, accented by sputtering 808s that slyly allude to those in Plastikman's "Spastik." Spectral Empire keep the tension understated throughout while generating a tingly euphoria that's all the more special for being kept on a tight leash. "Sadhu" is the soundtrack to a long journey in unfamiliar climes in which every stride and glance are supercharged with wonder. More

French brothers Baptiste & Pierre Colleu have been making music together since they were children. They spent a chunk of their childhood in Africa, which they say has inspired their work in the studio. That influence is submerged fairly deep on "Dolphin Kid," the title track for these two EPs. There's an undercurrent of eerie soulfulness and woody percussion accents running through this oddly alluring cosmic-house seducer, but its roots are more Balearic than Afrobeat. The five remixes of "Dolphin Kid" enhance the Colleu brothers' original in incrementally fascinating ways. On "Coyote's Intense Mix," the respected UK duo augment the laid-back rhythm with nuanced 303 twangs and boldface the hand percussion to magnify its latent funkiness. L.I.E.S. recording artist Willie Burns slows "Dolphin Kid"'s pace to a majestic, hollowed-out, dub-funk strut. It's unfathomably deep. Seattle tech-house maverick Jon McMillion serves up the most twisted, sinister version here, warping the main synth part into a disorienting swirl of borborygmi while intensifying the rhythmic urgency and expanding the sound palette. The second EP concludes with two masterly remixes by Black Merlin. His "Romance in the Dark Mix" turns "Dolphin Kid" into a chilling, Goblin-esque piece of dungeon ambience. But it's Merlin's nearly 13-minute "Peyote Mix" that really reels in the cinematic magic, as he launches the cut even deeper into the black, adding thrusting, throbbing disco kicks and enough horror/thriller-film soundtrack signifiers to give John Carpenter a perma-grimace. Poor "Dolphin Kid" has come to a gory, but very exciting end. More

French brothers Baptiste & Pierre Colleu have been making music together since they were children. They spent a chunk of their childhood in Africa, which they say has inspired their work in the studio. That influence is submerged fairly deep on "Dolphin Kid," the title track for these two EPs. There's an undercurrent of eerie soulfulness and woody percussion accents running through this oddly alluring cosmic-house seducer, but its roots are more Balearic than Afrobeat. The five remixes of "Dolphin Kid" enhance the Colleu brothers' original in incrementally fascinating ways. On "Coyote's Intense Mix," the respected UK duo augment the laid-back rhythm with nuanced 303 twangs and boldface the hand percussion to magnify its latent funkiness. L.I.E.S. recording artist Willie Burns slows "Dolphin Kid"'s pace to a majestic, hollowed-out, dub-funk strut. It's unfathomably deep. Seattle tech-house maverick Jon McMillion serves up the most twisted, sinister version here, warping the main synth part into a disorienting swirl of borborygmi while intensifying the rhythmic urgency and expanding the sound palette. The second EP concludes with two masterly remixes by Black Merlin. His "Romance in the Dark Mix" turns "Dolphin Kid" into a chilling, Goblin-esque piece of dungeon ambience. But it's Merlin's nearly 13-minute "Peyote Mix" that really reels in the cinematic magic, as he launches the cut even deeper into the black, adding thrusting, throbbing disco kicks and enough horror/thriller-film soundtrack signifiers to give John Carpenter a perma-grimace. Poor "Dolphin Kid" has come to a gory, but very exciting end. More

Not much is known about Lithuania's Corbie besides that he's classically trained, composes music for children's theater productions, and avoids plug-ins and samples. He solicited Nuearth Kitchen with demos and impressed us enough to merit a 12-inch single containing two tracks remixed from his unreleased e.motion.s album by two of the world's most slyly subversive house producers: DJ Sprinkles (Terre Thaemlitz) and Juju & Jordash. The original "Arktika" is a fantasia of lush, romantic synth washes and suavely understated beats that could've come off Roxy Music's Avalon. The tone is richly decadent. "Sprinkles' Deeperama" reconfigures it into an even more libidinous and elegant tribal-house excursion. This version repeatedly thrusts itself into your mind and musculature with earthy yet debonair insistence. The track's effervescence never falters over its 12 minutes. Corbie's original "Movement" carries a widescreen gravitas and the sort of brisk, solidly hit frame-drum beats that imply important travel over natural terrain. Exotic string and wind instruments commingle majestically in a manner that will sound familiar to anyone who's seen a Hollywood film set in a country where English isn't the first language. Juju & Jordash, as is their wont, supersize the beats and put a strange spring in their step, and then introduce an ominous, tensile bass line and imminent-doom synth atmospheres. The Amsterdam-based duo have ushered Corbie's winsome composition to the dark side, where it breathes with an entirely new vigor. More

After having debuted on NEK with his critically acclaimed "Jon McMillion LP," Jon McMillion now returns to the label on a provocative six-track sound cloud. For those who know McMillion's musical prowess, they won't be surprised to find late night musings lathered in left-field sensibilities, comedic soundscapes with dance floor leanings, exquisite sound design, and an ongoing exchange of darkness unto light. McMillion is a aural frontiersman with a passion for free-form composition, complicated sonic layering, and a particular nostalgia for retro ephemera. On the Flier EP (NEK04), McMillion returns to these elements, perpetually rendering what dance music is and could be. More

Subtle but never subdued, Dave Aju's "Look Out Above" continues his practice of aural alchemy, reconciling genres and eras in distinct, versatile elixirs of House. Each track allows ears and feet to glide through a menagerie of electro, jazz, chill and funk, where the elements are in harmony, enabling cross-genre mixes with ease. The subtle, smooth elements of the title track, "Look out Above" blend effortlessly into a dense, lush sonic cocktail. The raspy refrain and jazz splashes creep in at turns, adding spice to the mix that makes it all the more hypnotic, not anesthetic. "Good Gawd" is decidedly upbeat, with a straightforward and propulsive groove, a bass line that smolders beneath riffs that shimmer, punctuated with funky hoots and hooks that cinch it all together. We finish off with the sensuous eccentricity of "Fall," whose lilting voices, grimy grind, and space-age arpeggios come together in surprisingly smooth way, staying balanced and focused despite diffuse influences. Just like the varied, balanced strata of the individual tracks, this trio plays nicely together, offering a unique, lean panoply of sound for mixes and a solid, fully-realized sound of its own. More

Strumpetocracy is one of the most effective tools at their disposal. More