In a fractious dance-music scene, one thing seemingly everyone agrees upon is that Skee Mask is in a class of his own. Munich’s Bryan Müller began tracing the contours of his style on 2016’s Shred, but 2018’s Compro filled in a detailed 3D render for the world to see. Part of why Compro crossed over is how well it functioned as a proper album—a notoriously tricky tightrope to walk in electronic music. It was sequenced to begin softly, accelerate to a roaring full clip, and spin off into the ether at the death. The music, a meld of warp-speed breakbeats and wistful atmospherics, was lethal in the hand of discerning DJs but suited bedroom listening too. It brought memories flooding back to older heads of dancing to Moving Shadow or tripping in lounges to Autechre, while enshrining fresh memories for a new generation of ravers. Müller tipped his hat to electronica’s past while opening a portal to its immediate future.
Flush with confidence and taking more gigs than ever, Müller has crafted his 2019 productions with club sound systems in mind. “Trackheadz,” the walloping standout from springtime release 808BB, and “DJ A.Sieff,” a heavyweight loosie on the Infinite Drift compilation Shiny Zero, are markedly less murky and more direct. When Müller’s trademark becalming pads do arrive, they feel like torches shining into the back of a rave, or a laser tracing curlicues through smoke. They afford a momentary breather rather than an extended spell of reflection.
ISS004 continues to pull away from Compro’s stargazing. Only “Slow Music,” with acid-green synths stalking the corners and drums that crackle like a line-in cable connecting to a live speaker, feels tied to that era. Instead, three songs on the EP explore Skee Mask’s grimewise side. “Play Ha” and “RZZ” are reminiscent of cuts by Wizzbit, Zinc, and DJ Oddz found on the Bingo Beats series. It was an in-between stage where the moodiness of dark garage and drum’n’ bass lingered, dubstep wasn’t quite dubstep yet, and Wiley, while publicly asking “Wot Do U Call It?,” was trying to sell “eskibeats” as the term for what wound up popularized as grime. Müller captures that moment and updates it with hi-def sound design and eye-popping drum programming.
The most exciting of Müller’s eski excursions is opener “Juug.” Each time the drums pull back on the fourth bar, the bass becomes more feral, eventually snarling like a mecha-jaguar. When a breakbeat kicks in at the halfway mark, it feels like listening to a DJ execute a daredevil mix between two genres that bear little relation to one another. In Müller’s hands, it’s as smooth as a tablecloth trick, one of many moments in his catalog that elicits a reaction of, simply, what the fuck.
That the 2010s are ending with Skee Mask as one of its anointed stars is interesting. In the first half of the decade, popular club tunes were colourful and simplistic, with buildups and breakdowns signposted clearly to maximize coordinated release on dancefloors. The period of “deconstruction” that followed, where intense and abstract music lurched toward a form, brought material that was arresting but often a challenge for audiences to enjoy. You could call Skee Mask reconstructed club, if you like; he makes dancefloor-vaporizing weapons, but with galaxy-brain complexity scuttling below the surface. That snatches of grime, breakbeat, ballroom, IDM, electro, ambient, and as-yet-nameless styles find a home in just 28 minutes underlines the praise heaped on Skee Mask. ISS004 is the sound of a highly skilled producer who’s in love with the lot, and can’t wait to show you how good it can all be.
