Despite his history of making low-end-heavy grime, Iglew has never cared much about bass drops. His music is more about building shapes that wobble in mid-air, generating tension but never quite delivering release. Urban Myth, his squarewave-filled debut EP on Mr. Mitch’s Gobstobber label, sounded less like a collection of bangers than an atmospheric distillation of how grime might feel rumbling through the club walls to anyone outside on the street. Now returning after a six-year hiatus, Iglew has ditched the gritty bass stabs in favor of a fluttery, more driving techno sound, once again revealing the adventurous spirit that makes his music stand out.
On first listen, Light Armour sounds like the work of an entirely different artist than the Iglew who put out “Lullaby.” While the old flashes of rubbery bass occasionally appear on tracks like “Caffeine Dreamer” and “Gold,” Iglew seems much more interested in building songs that glide in a heavenly mid-zone—uptempo but never manic, bursting with quirky sounds but never overtly absurd. They’re a perfect fit for his new home on Facta and K-LONE’s Wisdom Teeth label, slotting right into the UK producers’ warm, tactile take on techno. Like his labelmates, Iglew’s music on Light Armour is full of bouncing marimbas and Mothersbaugh-esqe synth tones, carrying the torch of labels like 1080p and 100% Silk that spent the ’10s working to keep dance music colorful (in contrast to the apocalyptic club aesthetic of PAN and Houndstooth). Often, Light Armour calls back to first-wave IDM producers like Orlando Voorn and Speedy J, capturing the same gleeful intersection of ambient music, classic techno, and good old-fashioned knob-twiddling that helped bring electronic music from the club to the living room.
That sense of giddy excitement courses through “Caffeine Dream,” Light Armour’s first and strongest track. Over the course of its seven and a half minutes, Iglew sounds like a kid on a trampoline full of bouncy balls, leaping between mechanical skronks, elastic bass, and jazzy chords with reckless abandon. It’s the kind of dance music that’s lush and eccentric enough for headphone listening without losing the breathless punch to help it function on a dancefloor. Though the rest of Light Armour never quite hits that high again, it does give room for Iglew to flesh out his vibrant sense of club impressionism. “Microfunk Lament” adorns its barely there rhythm with bubbly synth melodies straight out of the Wii Sports menu, and the title track hits an airy stride that feels like Aphex Twin’s “Fingerbib” put through a tropical-house filter. Though the songs rarely rise above a simmer, Iglew’s production is always immersive, and even the most ambient-leaning track (the moody, minimalist “Hawksworth Woods”) has a cyclical pulse that calls back to the club, albeit from a distance.
For an artist who hasn’t released much, the change from Urban Myth to Light Armour is dramatic, which suggests that even if Iglew might not be sure exactly what kind of music he wants to make, he knows how he wants it to feel. Listening to the EP conjures up vivid imagery: flickering laboratory machinery, icy landscapes, passing clouds. It’s peaceful and playful at once, teasing all the different directions his work could go without ever fully committing to any of them. In that way, Light Armour captures that feeling of discovery and expression at the core of dance music, as each of Iglew’s oddball rhythms find their own ways to sink into the groove and wiggle until we start moving too.
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