Monolake

On his tenth Monolake album, Robert Henke memorialises his forensic creative process, revising old sketches and dusting off some of his favorite hardware synths to create a lengthy set of sci-fi tinged electroid experiments.

Ten albums in and Robert Henke's still in his own lane, even after inspiring countless copyists. So it's high time for the producer to inventory his process, which he deconstructs in great detail on 'Studio'. His studio is his shelter, he admits, and the place where he's free to investigate his gear and study his interactions and habits, and lean into any serendipitous events. This album's his simplest yet: "presenting a beautiful journey". And he lays that journey out in typically spacious, impeccably designed fashion, carving hard-as-nails beats out of analogue and digital behemoths and making everything sound... well... like Monolake.

There's plenty to sink yr teeth into; from the whirring steps of 'Thru Stalactites' with its ominous, disinfected pads and T++ like bassline to the ramshackle rattle of 'Cute Little Aliens', that's filled with Henke's "digital creatures". The German producer's debt to Kraftwerk is obvious on the hypnotic 'Global Transport', and on 'Stasis Field' he slows things down to a crawling half-step, interspersing his thuds and whip-like cracks with tense B-movie synth stabs and doom-y metallic clangs. It's a long one, but it's worth the effort.