‘Stupefied silence. It’s a debilitation few records are in any way capable of incurring, though it’s precisely what we’re presented with as Deco Child returns with the sweeping grandiosity of Skinless Pt. 1. It’s another step in an altogether more accomplished direction for Ninja Tune signee Alex Lloyd, who here builds a whirring blizzard of raw emotivity about a powder-soft pianistic solemnity evocative of Martin Grech’s Open Heart Zoo. A typically ethereal and distant vocal inevitably features, as do scrupulously honed bloops and incongruous handclaps somehow in keeping with the rapture this one instils within for it instantly gets right beneath the dermis, burrowing for warmth. Though its perhaps most striking feature? That the best is yet to come in the form of its second half…’



Deco Child’s Skinless EP is released May 13th via Ninja Tune.

‘As a portmanteau, I can’t say I’ve yet been particularly convinced by the fusion of folk and electronica that is, at least purportedly, folktronica. I guess Deco Child makes for just about the best example that springs to mind of a cogent conflation, though otherwise it’s a nebulous genre categorisation to say the least. And yet still, there’s a brilliant lucidity to Midnight On An Island from London’s John Elliott, aka The Little Unsaid, on which the flippant erraticisms of electronica quite patently meet with the lukewarm homelinesses of folk to form one of the supposed genre’s grandest successes thus far. Surrealist lyrics of “fell asleep on a hill and woke up under the turf” burrow their way beneath crystalline surges of lavish orchestration à la Clint Mansell or Jason Swinscoe composition, gossamer-like webs of slight rhythmic intricacy, and a protuberant post-disco bass line to sow seeds that flourish once allowed to thrive in the mind. “Don’t know why you are here”? Give this one a spin and it might all become that bit clearer…’

‘The globular synths that drip about Rökkur – the immediate standout to have dribbled out of Lyon-based beat tap *Shame* – initially lend its four-plus the impression of an incensed, sewer-dwelling Gold Panda. Though first impressions are here somewhat deceiving, as the track gradually blossoms into a meticulous knit of honed electronica, refined classicism, inviting ambient and Deco Child-inspired portent which all combine to make for a wondrously accomplished introduction to the République française’s finest since TTC. (Quite probably…)’

‘Although all-pervasive throughout this online hideout known as the www. where procrastination predominates, we’re still far from all packed out on budding, clack-favouring bedroom producers. And with the richly flavoured works of Deco Child, Pablo Nouvelle and Crap Collage chucked into the mix of the mind over the past 24 hours alone, Brighton’s Luvian smacks of another invaluable ingredient itching the precise spot where our tastes evidently – and largely inadvertently – may be located right around now. Arguably down to a quite remarkable upturn in conditions meteorological (or at least of those looming above the capital) My Life, lifted from what looks to be Luvian’s début EP Jams (below), shimmies to a post-garage luminosity, all muffled synths, unintelligible samples and frazzled rhythms. The EP in itself is a total scorcher, although it’s My Life that’s the true blinder; sonically tantamount to a protracted stare into that bulb of glowing hydrogen overhead. And there appears to be a burning issue secluded within, with contorted vocals transposed down to scarcely discernible gurgles seeming to state: “I need a manager.” Genuinely would if we could…’