In 2013, Daniel Avery made a name for himself in the techno world almost overnight with Drone Logic, the UK DJ and producer’s sprawling debut album. While rooted in club culture, the album appeared interested less in playing with propulsive rhythms than with a fusion of acid and ethereal melodies, creating an atmospheric push-and-pull with each track. At the time, Avery was known in London circles primarily through his residency at Fabric, where he performed under the alias Stopmakingme before using his real name. Since Drone Logic, Avery has released a string of projects that, although varied, haven’t strayed far from the electronic realm, from 2020’s more ambient-leaning and contemplative Song for Alpha to 2022’s intense, breakbeat-infused Ultratruth. But Avery’s newest album, Tremor, his first in three years, sees the artist trading the solitude of the electronic producer for the collaborative spirit of a rock band.
In some ways, this represents a return to his roots. Avery’s work has always been shaped by early influences such as Nine Inch Nails, Deftones, and My Bloody Valentine. Avery’s first taste of DJing came as a teenager warming up the decks at a local indie club night called Project Mayhem, where he spun everything from electroclash to post-punk, before he was taken under the wing of mentors like Erol Alkan and the late Andrew Weatherall, both renowned for bridging the worlds of rock and dance music.
While Ultra Truth featured electronic peers like Kelly Lee Owens, HAAi, and Manni Dee, Avery’s sixth solo album pulls from a completely different group of contemporaries, including the Kills’ Alison Mosshart, Quicksand and Rival Schools’ Walter Schreifels, yeule, and yunè pinku. Tremor’s production still remains distinctly Avery, lined with acid-tinged bass and a brooding, psychedelic sound. But these elements tend to lay the groundwork for a smattering of voices enmeshed in swirling guitars, rather than standing out as the main show. When Tremor holds your attention, it works—but sometimes Avery gets lost in his own trance, drifting away from the album’s rough pulse just as it begins to take hold.
The record opens with “Neon Pulse,” inviting the listener into a dreamy, orchestral world that flows seamlessly into “Rapture in Blue,” where singer Cecile Believe’s delicate vocals breathe air into slowed-down breakbeats. Guitar melodies lurk, waiting to pounce, on “Haze,” featuring Ellie, which bleeds into “A Silent Shadow,” featuring bdrmm—and they do, with a fierce clash of drums and electric riffs. While Avery has emphasized the distinction between his recorded output and his work as a DJ, the shape of Tremor’s tracklist mirrors a set that gradually builds, shaping a pyramid stacked with desire. While the album’s grit is softened by the rounded, flowing synths on “A Moon Starts Shaking,” it comes at the cost of interrupting Avery’s teeth-grinding flow at a pivotal halfway point.
When asked about his particular taste, Avery has only been able to whittle it down to “music that sounds unreal.” And an otherworldly, electric current runs through Tremor, which, at its best, showcases Avery’s skills at reshaping the textures of his collaborators into new, distinctive forms. Mosshart’s sultry vocals melt into the muddied synths of “Greasy Off the Racing Line,” while yeule’s plaintive pleas grow even more wistful against the backdrop of Avery’s hazy, immersive production. And on the album’s most distinctly shoegaze-influenced track, “In Keeping (Soon We’ll Be Dust),” Avery creates a playful melody that gives shape to Schreifels’ earnest vocals before exploding into loudspeaker fuzz. The song’s instrumental parts flow into “Tremor,” where they are meant to stand alone. Yet as it stretches on, it begins to drag, and Schreifels’ absence is keenly felt.
The album’s penultimate track, “A Memory Wrapped in Paper and Smoke,” creates an orbital soundscape that brings us down to earth and nods to opening track “Neon Pulse,” the only other song created solely with Avery’s long-time collaborator James Greenwood. But Avery doesn’t close out Tremor by tying it in a neat little bow. Instead, he makes his departure on “I Feel You,” with Art School Girlfriend, like he does behind the decks: with a grand, synth-heavy crescendo—taking you higher and higher, out of your world and into his.
