Topdown Dialectic’s Vol. 3 begins with five minutes of primordial soup: undulating rhythms that feel like bubbling swamp water, dubby textures that make everything gauzy, and fizzy synths constantly on the verge of forming something concrete. Compared to the previous album’s opening tracks, “A1” is notably low-key. While all three volumes of the anonymous artist’s Peak Oil releases were sent to the Los Angeles label in a single batch, there’s a certain aura that defines each LP. The first is effortlessly cool; Vol. 2 is more understated, even during moments of party-ready euphoria; and Vol. 3—the most distinct of the bunch—is quiet, introspective, and impressively even-keeled.
One can imagine the previous two albums as blasts of perfume that transform space and self into something exuberant. Vol. 3 is more like when the juice has dried up and all that’s left is the sediment making up the fougère: sparse, less flashy, but potent if you put in the work. As with many tracks on Vol. 3, “A2” doesn’t immediately lead you into some heady or celebratory space. Instead, its casual demeanor simply communicates its elements: aquatic swirls and percussive accents. They coalesce into an alluring fog, but Topdown Dialectic lets it exist as is. Immersion occurs on the listener’s terms, and when one takes the plunge, the deep bass swells prove more tactile than they appear on the surface.
More than past releases, Vol. 3 tends to foreground perceptibly sluggish tempos, limited dynamic range, and negligible development. Its very unobtrusiveness reminds me that these tracks are the result of generative processes and that this project thrives on mystique—the person behind Topdown Dialectic is unknown, the tracks are untitled and all exactly five minutes long, and the physical copies feature minimal if not zero information. “B3” is all synth gyrations and meandering clacks, but it’s less anonymous than self-effacing. The smeared vocal sample is hardly identifiable as such for much of the track, but when its humanness emerges from the murk, it’s like catching a glimpse of a specter for a brief, electrifying moment.
I’m reminded of an interview with dub-techno forebear Moritz von Oswald where he corrected an interviewer who called minimal techno cold. “It’s very warm, emotional and deep,” he said. “The more you listen to it, the more it affects you.” Vol. 3 reminds you of that truth, and it challenges any notion that this sort of music may be either too amorphous or straightforward. “A3” is one of the more kinetic pieces here, but it also feels aimless, like it doesn’t commit to its verve. Listen with a different mindset and there’s subtler drama on display: the periodic thwacks suggest an incessant urge to dance, despite being stationary.
Vol. 3 is at its most exhilarating when Topdown Dialectic nails this balance between static and dynamic sensibilities. “A4” has an instant warmth that recalls Stephen Hitchell’s softer tracks, or the blissful deep cuts found on Silent Season, but it’s sparser and less inclined to let ambience be the primary arbiter of mood. The synth pad isn’t overwhelming, the grainy textures don’t take hold like they do in Pole’s work, and the voices that appear are little more than vapor—mere suggestion of presence is always enough on these tracks. Even the twirling closer, “B4,” aims for antiseptic sci-fi gloss, but it never lets that idea take complete hold. With Vol. 3, Topdown Dialectic proposes a tantalizing methodology: keeping everything in moderation leads to feeling everything at full impact.
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