Terrence Dixon

This latest EP from the veteran Detroit techno producer feels like a killer outlier of sorts, as Dixon notes that he set out to make a louder, more dance floor-targeted release “with Tresor specifically in mind.” In theory, that makes sense, as Dixon’s “forward-thinking ghetto electronics” aesthetic tends to veer towards the more minimal and atmospheric end of the techno spectrum and Tresor is definitely a label with a long history of hard-edged dance floor bangers, but they’ve also previously released some of Dixon’s most iconic minimal works such as the From the Far Future series. 

I would certainly love to experience whatever dance floor When Stars Remember is purportedly aimed at, however, as these four pieces are all relentlessly propulsive, hypnotically pulsing, and psychotropically burrowing mindbombs. They are also pared down to the fucking bone, but that even-more-minimal-than-usual approach is beautifully balanced with an uncharacteristically muscular intensity.      

Over the years, I have gradually accumulated quite a few Terrence Dixon releases and every single one has had its share of killer tracks, but he seemed to be in especially inspired form this time around. While all of my favorite releases share the same distinctively driving, futuristic, and subtly hallucinatory vision, When Stars Remember feels like a Dixon release with the intensity and hypnotic repetition dialed up to the max and that suits these four tracks beautifully. 

In theory, the palette is roughly the same as ever, as these pieces are essentially crafted from little more than a relentlessly thumping kick drum and some cool synth arpeggios, but the kick drum is unusually slamming this time around and the arpeggios feel significantly trippier and more intricate than usual. As Dixon himself puts it, “if you stick with the same layered tones, and repeat it over, after a while your brain changes it on its own; you hear a lot of things: things that you didn’t notice at first, things that maybe aren’t even there.”

The clearest example of that phenomenon is the closing “Code of the Forgotten,” as a single serpentine pattern relentlessly loops like an Ouroboros over a simple kick drum thump for the piece’s entire duration. The effect is quite mesmerizing, as the pattern is continually transforming in timbre and intensity and synced with additional layers that unpredictably drift in and out. It has the feel of a relentlessly forward-moving locked groove that endlessly churns, snarls, and smolders. While it admittedly ends a bit too abruptly for my taste, the manipulation of repeating synth patterns always tends to end that way if real-time performance is the objective and it is certainly fucking great while it lasts. 

The opening “Mono Collapse” is similarly unusual and obsessive in its repetition, as its insistently pulsing two-chord motif calls to mind either The Field or a skipping Daft Punk CD, yet Dixon masterfully keeps the momentum surging forward with little more than just a kick drum and a high hat. That simple palette is vibrantly enhanced by some wild chromatic synth convulsions, but that would probably not be enough to carry the piece if the beat did not continually collapse and reignite so dynamically.

The remaining two pieces are arguably a bit more melodic and straightforward, but they are similarly great. In the title piece, for example, Dixon unleashes another Ouroboros-style arp hook, but the groove propelling his psychotropically shifting patterns is a bit more throbbing and sexy. It amusingly suggests a great Caterina Barbieri piece that has been libidinously repurposed to blow up the fucking dance floor at a sweaty S&M club. As appealing as that sounds, however, my favorite piece is probably “The Art of Possible,” as Dixon unleashes a fiendishly complex melodic hook with a cool blurting and oddly timed countermelody over a relentlessly pounding kick drum with hand claps. 

More than any other piece on the album, “The Art of Possible” captures Dixon at his most boldly virtuosic, as the synth motif sounds like it could be the spiritual descendant of fiery classical piece transformed into precision-engineered futuristic perfection. Similarly, his beat manipulations are a master class in building and sustaining propulsive dynamic intensity with a minimum number of moving parts. Dixon genuinely feels like a fucking sorcerer on this EP, as he managed to craft four absolute scorchers that each have their own distinctive personality, but the ingredients every time are essentially just a kick drum, a cymbal, and a single perfect synth hook. In short, this is an archetypal “all killer, no filler” EP, but it also feels like quite a bit more than that as well, as Dixon strikes a truly singular balance of hallucinatory pattern shifts, throbbing muscularity, and technique so sophisticated that it sometimes feels like he is sending transmissions back from the future.

Listen here.