Available on: OAR 12″

No matter what critically-acclaimed indie electronic group Oni Ayhun may or may not be a member of, there’s no denying that there’s something implacably unique about him. His four untitled singles stand on their own merits and it’s clear that he’ll pretty much succeed at whatever he tries: his first single (OAR001) featuring busy stabs at modern techno and obscure ambience, the second percussive experiments in dusty dub techno, and the third pure melodic euphoria, metallic synths curved and contoured for your pleasure. That last single’s b-side (OAR003-B) was the best thing Ayhun had set to wax by that point, a neon jaunt through a sun-soaked field at the break of dawn, like Silent Shout with the lights on: knowingly fucked up but able to appreciate it all in the bare daylight.  Ayhun did a mnml ssgs mix shortly after, a live set consisting of, appropriately enough, forty minutes of skronks and creaks and still somehow made it musical.  But what does that mean for single number four?

It comes as a bit of a relief that OAR004 fits right in with the rest of the catalogue; that is to say it’s not a direct sequel to any of the previous tracks nor is it a particularly drastic departure, remaining distinctly Ayhunian all the way. The loopy A-side takes inspiration from Omar-S among others, combining the Detroit producer’s characteristic rust with Ayhun’s own washed-out spectrum of pale blues and greens.  Ayhun lays down a track with coughing percussion, a once-pristine drum kit caked in a thick layer of industrial soot, and lets loose a delirious synth that sounds like it’s been filtered for maximum fatigue, stripped of all its pleasant frequencies and left nauseatingly bare, exposed nerves and all. The track is rudely penetrated by bursts of static and white noise, electrified metal cutting through metal, and huge, shallow drum hits that sound like a kid banging on a sheet of foil.

The flip is almost twice the length and it takes its sweet time to develop, decaying chimes sounding like Ayhun has co-opted one of Aphex’s lucid dreams from Selected Ambient Works II.  It’s the track most similar to his bizarre live set, essentially a collection of repeated, tweaked sound effects. Humongous mosquitoes buzz by, aged, mechanical joints squeal in forced movement, until a steady beat and sub-aqueous bassline finally begin to emerge almost five minutes in. Returning to the same powdery drums, it’s like a dub version of the A-side, reveling in sparse echo effects and a barely-there rhythmic skeleton, rolling synths pinging off of the dark corners and collapsing into each other, the coils of noise returning to electrocute you just when you get settled into the peculiar insectoid orchestra.

If you like your techno downright confounding but still danceable, the man who calls himself Oni Ayhun has got your back with another solid twelve that proves the best music is made by people who don’t give a damn about anyone or anything else.

Andrew Ryce