GAEL Frozen White Horse

An exercise in control of auditory limitations and possibilities, GAEL redefines techno production with their comprehension of cold atmospherics and meticulous world building. Exemplified in their first solo EP ‘Frozen White Horse’ released on BITE Records, fervent, hurtling drums are underpinned by hopeful euphorics and circulating, breathy cybernetics. A culmination of sophisticated sonic dialects reared from the intersections of soundscaping and electronic music, the berlin-based DJ/Producer from Dagestan (by-way-of Kyiv and Odesa) commits their practice to the inclusivity of borderless, capricious and emotive dance- floor synergy. This energy was previously captured on BITE last year with their appearances on the Shedding Skin VA and The Soft Moon’s Exister Remixed. GAEL’s harmonic and organic approach to techno production echoes the heartbeat of dancefloor resistance,captivating audiences across venues from Berlin’s Berghain to Kyiv’s ∄ as a resident at the queer event series XITb. Delivering thunderous feeling through experimental sounds and masterful pacing, the 4-track-EP blurs the margins of moody techno exploration with remarkable attitude and a foreboding sense of uphill struggle. For the opening title track, a procession of stacked chords,synths and snares are met with a cyclone of galloping percussion building to maximum intensity until dispersing into echoey chimes. As the listener is able to catch their breath, the second track ‘prpttcxsstnc’ reignites - this time with trepidatious yet ethereal vibration, as the track continues to inject GAEL’s post-punk style of galvanised energy, rich layered drums maintain the undercurrent of resolute chaos into the following track ‘there is nothing left’. Sombre track titles are off-set by triumphant vigour for the third instalment, pushing through gale force drums and the clanging zaps and bleeps of electronic debris. Concluding with the final cacophony of collaged beats and drums, bellowing siren-like cold wails meld with GAEL’s calamity crescendo of crashing cymbals, the procession of rapturous drums slipping into a distant echo of warped hollow gleams.