Listen: Sandcastle — Grabbitz & Jayceeoh

Opening with dream-like folksy melancholic guitars and a Chris Martin-esque falsetto vocal, Grabbitz & Jayceeoh’s Sandcastle is a deceptive piece of experimental electronic indie. As the song’s first minute reaches a close, Sandcastle slams into a lairy drum roll and teeth-shattering bass.

The way Sandcastle combines an experimental electronic aesthetic with cardigans and teary Whatsapp message threads feels very Hot Chip. I’m not entirely sure whether this should work, particularly that drum roll, yet it does.

Jayceeoh is known for his work with iconic rapper Redman, together in their EDM hip hop outfit 1000volts. Here he parters with long-time friend, Grabbitz, in what represents their first actual collaboration. Together on Sandcastle, they describe the reality of relationships that come and go, getting washed away as love enters and leaves your life.

Listen: Something We Would Dance To — Henri

The first time I heard Something We Would Dance To, the sun was beaming down on a sunny Thursday morning in the UK. The three central elements of this song felt perfectly attuned to my mood, in that moment — the wisp-like vocal, the staccato vocal samples, and that huge piano riff.

There is a buoyant hopefulness here, shot through with yearning. It quivers with the excited hopefulness that, just maybe, we can still find human connection. It’s a feeling the accompany press sheet describes as an invitation to “dance through their tears”.

The song itself is very purposeful in that feeling, in that it is an encapsulation of “the beautiful moments shared with an ex-lover while grappling with the lingering doubts and heartache of a breakup”. Indeed, I can imagine the whispered words of the song’s central refrain, “Is this something we can dance to?”, passing between two people who still love each other, yet know that their love has to change.

Henri is an indie-electronic producer, gearing up for the release of his debut EP, Rakkaus, on 2 June. His music is an attempt to draw on “deeply personal and transformative experiences”, creating a sound that is emotive and resonant. Purposefully steering clear of the typical clean lines of repetitive beats, Henri is focused on bringing humanity to electronic music. That focus is obviously central to Something We Would Dance To — check it out below:

Listen: Häntextra — Fricky

Bathed in warm tones, crisp drum rolls and jazzy touches, Fricky’s Häntextra brings together some of my favourite elements of D&B and shakes them, gently.

The spacious, jazz elements recall LTJ Bukem’s Good Looking Records, but here they are blended with the sunny vibes of Movement and the soulful space of Defunked. All of which to say, this skews intelligent, emotive and sophisticated, but still makes me want to dance in the sunshine or in sweaty rooms with low ceilings.

Tricky is artist, producer and designer Erik Friman. Having grown up in Sweden, he got exposed to hardcore bands, DIY music and rap. Friman formed a rap duo with his childhood friend Broder John, before eventually branching out to more exploratory, melodic and atmospheric sounds.

Häntextra is taken from the forthcoming album Horizon Inn. Rather than focusing on D&B or rap, the album takes a wide-angle lens to 90s and 00s music, encompassing sounds as diverse as indie pop, and trip hop. The music is in truth a collaboration, by Fricky, but together with collaborators Joel Kiviaho, Magnus Larsson and Simon Lundgren. Describing the sound, Friman says:

“This is the closest I get to the sound that only exists in my dreams. The inspiration is taken from drum and bass, trip-hop, acid and old school hiphop. The world can undeniably feel escapist, but at the same time, I can't remember ever being as present in the music as I was during this process.”

Listen: Autocratic Gore — Don’t Get Lemon

With a thrumming energy, Don’t Get Lemon bring together a sense of glittering melody with a dash of gothic introspection. Autocratic Gore sounds a little like REM doing a cover of the Cure, with a dash of the magical energy of Future Islands’ Samuel T Herring.

Autocratic Gore opens with slow walking bass and vocals that puncture the melody like a brass tack. The sound is wound taut, invoking the monochromatic styles of post-punk, but with a glimmer of playfulness in the vocal harmonies, dressed in reverb, that echo through the song’s background.

As things progress, Autocratic Gore becomes increasingly insistent, melodies swirling and drums crashing as the song builds to a sudden vanishing… And just like that, we’re done, and I’m left marvelling at the space Don’t Get Lemon just created and consumed.

Based in Austin and Houston, Texas, Don’t Get Lemon position themselves as detached, yet danceable, which is pretty much my vibe. On Autocratic Gore, they look to capture “the fear and frustration of the falsified American Dream”. It comes ahead of a to-be-announced forthcoming LP and a clutch of Texas dates to celebrate the song’s release:

• Austin May 25th at Feels So Good
• San Antonio May 26th at Vice Versa
• Dallas May 27th at Double Wide
• Houston May 28th at The End

Listen: Significant Kind — Piers

Following on from his recent collaboration with Monomotion on the emotive piano-tech-ballad that Another Story, Piers is back with his latest solo effort, Significant Kind.

The red thread that connects these two releases is a level of attention to small details. Where Another Story was all about creating space for the piano at its core, Significant Kind is a more focused on layered percussion and the interplay of texture.

Based around a central melodic riff and a repeated vocal, it is actually the underlying detail that really holds my attention here… Subtle cymbals, the little click tracks that underpin the drums, tiny glitchy details.

Significant Kind marks a departure for Piers, the charting out of a new direction:

“My world is changing fast, and so is the music. In a world where everyone needs to fit to a trend, I just want mine to be worth listening to.”

Piers Thibault was born in Normandy, but moved to Houston in Texas at a young age. The impact of the US is something he still carries with him, unlocking his sense of creativity and awareness of culture. Following a move back to France, Piers felt displaced and alienated, but eventually dove into the world of music and clubbing at a young age:

“I wasn’t interested in doing drugs, and alcohol wasn’t my thing. I was the only one going out to actually listen to the music. It took me a few years to realize that it wasn’t just a phase—it was my passion.”

This sentiment resonates for me, as someone who moved to Sheffield in the UK in my late teens just to get closer to the nightclub and music scene I had become obsessed by. I had little interest in the drugs, and not enough money to pay the drinks prices at nightclubs… Instead, my friends and I would stay up until dawn, just dancing and enjoying the music.

You can also hear Piers’ devotion in his sound — it is precisely why the music has a transcendent quality. It isn’t intended to be in the background, and instead is an immersive experience.