Epsie - Rule Of Thumb (12")
Dutch upstart Epsie pulls a rabbit, or maybe a Roland, from the hat with Rule of Thumb, a
debut EP that’s as wobbly and wide-eyed as a warehouse party at the early morning
hours. It’s a small marvel of mangled synth wizardry and chopped-to-hell drum patterns
that somehow stay locked tighter than your last three-day weekend. There’s a charming
messiness to it all.
“Fedde” kicks things off with a percussive punch to the frontal lobe, big-room bravado
laced with a subtle wink. “Electric” takes a left turn down acid alley, tripping over a
broken beat and landing in a puddle of molten 303 line. But nothing here feels tacked on
or stitched together post-hangover; it’s all curiously cohesive, like chapters in a fever
dream authored by a bedroom producer with a dusty sequencer and an interstellar
agenda.
Nostalgic without being derivative, danceable without chasing a trend, Rule of Thumb is
fit for all forms of dancing, and the roof tops that dare to hold it.
">link
Epsie - Rule Of Thumb (12")
Dutch upstart Epsie pulls a rabbit, or maybe a Roland, from the hat with Rule of Thumb, a
debut EP that’s as wobbly and wide-eyed as a warehouse party at the early morning
hours. It’s a small marvel of mangled synth wizardry and chopped-to-hell drum patterns
that somehow stay locked tighter than your last three-day weekend. There’s a charming
messiness to it all.
“Fedde” kicks things off with a percussive punch to the frontal lobe, big-room bravado
laced with a subtle wink. “Electric” takes a left turn down acid alley, tripping over a
broken beat and landing in a puddle of molten 303 line. But nothing here feels tacked on
or stitched together post-hangover; it’s all curiously cohesive, like chapters in a fever
dream authored by a bedroom producer with a dusty sequencer and an interstellar
agenda.
Nostalgic without being derivative, danceable without chasing a trend, Rule of Thumb is
fit for all forms of dancing, and the roof tops that dare to hold it.
">link
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Description
Dutch upstart Epsie pulls a rabbit, or maybe a Roland, from the hat with Rule of Thumb, a
debut EP that’s as wobbly and wide-eyed as a warehouse party at the early morning
hours. It’s a small marvel of mangled synth wizardry and chopped-to-hell drum patterns
that somehow stay locked tighter than your last three-day weekend. There’s a charming
messiness to it all.
“Fedde” kicks things off with a percussive punch to the frontal lobe, big-room bravado
laced with a subtle wink. “Electric” takes a left turn down acid alley, tripping over a
broken beat and landing in a puddle of molten 303 line. But nothing here feels tacked on
or stitched together post-hangover; it’s all curiously cohesive, like chapters in a fever
dream authored by a bedroom producer with a dusty sequencer and an interstellar
agenda.
Nostalgic without being derivative, danceable without chasing a trend, Rule of Thumb is
fit for all forms of dancing, and the roof tops that dare to hold it.
">link
