Futureproofing #31: Obliteration Bliss

My favorite records of the last month.

Black Rain’s Obliteration Bliss album

Hello everyone,

January is already getting away from me. I’ll keep it short: here are some of my favorite records of the year so far, which means, of course, some records that came out in December.

If you’re reading this, as ever, I’m interested in hearing what kind of content you want from me, in addition to new music roundups. You can email me at andrewryce@gmail.com, or message me on Instagram. For now, here’s a new music roundup.

Various - Short Tracks [Short Span, 2025]

The launch of Matthew Kent’s Short Span label was one of 2025’s greatest sleeper hits. Releases from Mammo, Sa Pa and Yu Su (among others) dissolved dub techno and ambient clichés into a new sound defined by force and quiet elegance—music that remains heavy and earthbound even at its most diffuse. This lengthy new compilation opens the label’s universe to new artists and fresh takes on the genres, but the focus is still on ghostly grooves and foggy textures.

Trailcam (AKA E-Saggila) touches on chunky, ‘90s downtempo with a psychedelic flair, and Nadia Khan’s “Trust” sounds like the ethereal innards scooped out of a dub techno tune left to float in the air. Vancouver producers ZDBT & Syd Woz add to the trippiness with an aggressive broken beat cut orbited by LFO’d whooshes and muttering vocals—the overall effect is like listening to the air being slowly let out of an overinflated balloon. There’s also an incredible dub track from Demdike Stare’s Miles and a hypnotic, Newworldaquarium-esque epic from Midnightopera. I could go on, but instead I’ll just say this: if you’re a fan of techno in any form, this is one of the most vital records you’ll hear this year. (And yes, I am counting it as a 2026 release.)

Al Wootton - Glorias [Lith Dolina, 2025]

Another release that snuck out in the late-December grey area, this EP is the most impressive thing Al Wootton has put out since he started using his real name. Built around a drum pattern that bucks like an anxious horse, “Glorias” weaves in recordings from Spanish composers who were exiled after Franco’s victory in the Spanish Civil War. Like an orchestra playing a handful of different compositions at once, the samples veer from mournful to frantic to anxious, the clashing occasionally catching sparks like sticks (or horsehair bows) rubbing together. There’s something folkloric about it, albeit one pieced together from an incomplete history. The strings only become more discordant and intermittent, skipping and cutting out as if they were beaming in from a weak radio signal. Sonically, “Glorias” is stunning, its skeletal rhythm pattern tapping into the minimalist genius of Ricardo Villalobos at his headiest, as well as the exquisite sampladelia of Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records. The drumless version might be even better, letting those composers speak to each other from across the great divide without the imposition of techno, sounding more like a séance than a dance.

Roska - Early Shift / Let Loose [Roska Kicks & Snares, 2026]

Maybe it’s just the nostalgia talking, but this new EP (meant as a direct throwback to the early days of UK funky) is really getting to me. “Early Shift” effortlessly captures the blend of belligerent minimalism and tight swing of the most functional Roska bangers (I’m thinking “Squark”). It’s little more than a vamping keyboard and some tinny snares, and the dual basslines—one undulating moan and another punchy melody that wouldn’t be out of place in an Afro house tune—are what really make it. “Early Shift” rarely uses more than two or three elements at one time, and each bar lands like the nimble blows of an expert boxer. That makes the considerably bassier “Let Loose” feel lumbering (and more 2020s) in comparison, though the bongos and whistle sample have the classic Roska stamp. While he’s never lost his touch, this return to meat-and-potatoes funky is some of Roska’s most vital work in years.

Black Rain - Obliteration Bliss [Room40, 2025]

Stuart Argabright’s Black Rain band is most famous for its rejected soundtrack to 1995’s William Gibson-written, Keanu Reeves-starring sci-fi film Johnny Mnemomic, as well as a 1994 audiobook soundtrack for Gibson’s legendary novel Neuromancer. The source material for those scores wrote a cyberpunk DNA into the group’s music that informs it to this day: endless references to Japan, reverb and echo that evoke urban alleyways and dark corners, and the omnipresent sound of rain. Obliteration Bliss was originally released as a cassette on Downwards, and here it gets a new life (and sequencing) on Room40 that showcases how much life there is in the group’s recipe of all-black-everything techno. Primarily because they aren’t beholden to the rules of functional techno: “Obliterine Silvergreen” speeds up into heart-palpitating gabber before receding again, the rhythm occasionally catching its breath like it’s running away from something. “50 Signs Of Rain (Xenotime)”—and especially the remix—is an EBM-nu-metal barnstormer worthy of some early ‘00s soundtrack. It channels the heavy thrust and crunch of peak-era Marilyn Manson into something darker and sillier, but also a little sexy (and stiff enough to play in a sweaty basement).

Mary Lattimore & Julianna Barwick - Tragic Magic [InFiné, 2026]

This collaboration was recorded in nine days as part of a residency at the Musée de la Musique in Paris, where the duo had access to a wide library of instruments, including harps dating back to 1728. The music glimmers with the spark of giddy, instant creativity, unmoored from context or composition. The result is an extremely earnest, loveable record that teeters on the edge of cloying, but has just enough mystique and sheer beauty to pull it off. Opener “Perpetual Adoration” sounds kind of like Jan Garbarek’s Officium performed by forest nymphs, with harp instead of saxophone, and it’s exactly what you might expect from these two: plucked strings and wordless, cooing vocals. The rest of the LP gets a surprising amount of mileage out of this formula, like the incredible, Popol Vuh-ish “Stardust,” where Barwick goes all Krautrock on the Musée’s synth collection and Lattimore plays arpeggios so bright and brittle they sound like they’re made out of crystal. There’s also a cover of “Rachel’s Song,” from Vangelis’s Blade Runner soundtrack, that gets a little Enya with it, featuring a whistled refrain that might be a little too cute for my personal taste. But it’s also stunning, and completely serious, so I have to admire it anyway. This is a record that knows it’s beautiful and doesn’t shy away from that, which is enough to warm even my cold, cold heart.

FD - From The Ashes [The North Quarter, 2025]

Freddie Dixon is one of those artists who always makes me think, “why don’t I listen to this guy more?” The Zürich-based artist balances melody and toughness in drum & bass where most producers lean too much in one direction. Take “Cold Neon,” a collaboration with Lenzman, built on top of a sliding Reese bassline and a wubby LFO bassline with weepy melodies and warbly pianos that could have been lifted from a Lofi Girl stream. There’s major potential for schmaltz here, but FD’s economical arrangement (and precision mixdowns) make everything feel taut and professional, more rousing than corny. But where From The Ashes really gets interesting is the detours, like the Burial-esque garage of “Impulse Power,” which moves with the silvery glide of dub techno, or the cool-blue halftime track “Dragon Fruit,” which sounds a bit like Autechre covering Orbital’s “Chime” at FWD>>. And, of course, there are rip-roaring bangers like the minimalist, gasping funk of “What I Needed” or the accurately titled “LBW (Lil Bass Wobbler).” Drum & bass albums rarely come as varied or balanced as this one.