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The Streamcore Archives: "404 Club Found" | Dexter Void’s Favourite DIS Magazine Mixes

My mind has slipped into sheer madness (“good for the sake of comparison,” as they say). The only way I can conceivably cope amid the fast-paced, unrelenting way of life, is to fall back into the dystopian abyss of DIS Magazine mixes. This’ll be an archaeological dig into what was their unfathomable dimension of post-internet, post-ironic humour, all encased in a gilt-lined Perspex dish. Gyroscopic mashups of digital artforms, hyper-contemporary culture and irrepressible mixes of glitchy ethers and futurist fetishisms. Is that how the New York collective imagined their platform would be perceived by this naïve individual? Probably not!

It's been many years since I first plundered the fruits of their abstract and ultra-cool website. Over that time, I’ve developed a deeper appreciation of the mixes and realised that the cacophony and insanely alien, yet oddly familiar sounds are now a manic fixation. These otherwise faceless entities of electronica seem to be from a lush set of trendsetters and sardonic pranksters. At the time I didn’t know what to make of DIS Magazine and I don’t think I was its target audience – say, a cool hipster, club-kid types or someone working in the arts or new media. Yet, something about the aesthetic grabbed me. The mixtapes in the Disco area lured me in. It was the right blend of internet innovation during the early 2010s pulverised into a hellscape of modern life. Each mix was designated a webpage revealing an onslaught of animations, revolving gifs, CGI objects, meme-like messaging, satirical or sardonic product placement and whatever new-age/new-wave visuals it could muster. It was all very entertaining, latching onto every micro-genre you could think of; gabber, electro, glitch, vaporwave, dancehall, reggaeton, hyper-techno, acid, contemporary R&B, grime, trance, EDM, slowcore and just plain-old weird experimental electronica. It seemed like the mindset of DIS Magazine was to amuse, annoy, overwhelm, test our patience and divert our lives. All the while submitting a teasing, boundary-crossing “identity in crisis” character. At least for me it felt like that.

Their original manifesto explains more coherently; “DIS is a dissection of fashion, art and commerce which seeks to dissolve conventions, distort realities, disturb ideologies and disrupt the dismal dissemination of fashion discourse. All is open to discussion. There is no final word. DIS does not distinguish between disciplines nor conform to aesthetic value systems. DIS explores the banality and novelty of product and image making.” The music contained in their small roller blind corner of the internet is a mind-bending experience, letting me match the unknown dystopia in my own head. And you never knew what to expect. I’d eagerly await the next mix, appearing as a comical thumbnail inviting me into the sound world. And whether I enjoyed it was a gamble. My obsession and gratitude to what the project was will forever endure.

So, here’s the lowdown on my 40 favourite DIS Magazine mixes – 23 hours of emotional DISruption, DIStraction and DISentanglement!

The first DIS mix I ever heard was “Muslim Trance” by Fatima Al Qadiri under the guise of Ayshay. Her unnerving synthetic sound sculptures probe and infiltrate various samples of sacred Shi’ite and Sunni acapella she located online, creating a mystical, otherworldly realm of pensive trance and meditation. It’s a tense balance of unease and emancipation that leaves you hooked. Al Qadiri’s work is consistently curious and rewarding. She later released the fantastic Warn-U EP on Tri Angle, an ambient exploration of her voice manipulated in many ways. Staying with Fatima Al Qadiri, she contributed another two excellent mixes for DIS Magazine. “Viral © Baby” is one of DIS’s early uploads, pushing frantic ‘90s techno to new extremes, squeezing tracks through a sonic meat grinder. Chopped-up Eurythmics vocal lines collide with tense tempos and a barrage of rave bleeps and blips, delivering an earbashing courtesy of Acen, The Prodigy, Culture Beat and even Peter Gabriel. In 2011, Domino Records launched a pop-up radio station for a limited time airing an array of sounds from around the world. Al Qadiri took over the airwaves for thirty minutes with a deliciously diverse mix of global pop songs and hyper electro culture far-removed from the West. Her “Global.Wav Radio Show” is accompanied by a cyber-infused vocoder voice, contorting and twisting around tracks as she plays host. We glide through tracks by artists from Iran, Mongolia, Kuwait, Turkey, Chechnya, Indonesia and beyond. Her mixes demonstrate she is a force to be reckoned with, effortlessly placing a keen ear to international folk and pop sounds. Later albums such as Asiatisch and Brute, along with singles like the Desert Strike EP and Genre-Specific Xperience, saw her exploring the nether regions of startling, evocative electronica, all laying the groundwork for her ventures into soundtrack work.

The Ratcatchers “I Was Two In '92” is a throwback mix that transports us to the late ‘80s burgeoning house scene. Snap!, Monie Love, Sha-lor and Madonna all receive fantastic placements in a flamboyant fusion of ballroom voguing and electro house. The sincerity here likely reflects The Ratcatchers own club night in Chicago. “Perisian Runway” by SFV Acid is a sparkling, high fashion magic carpet ride above a metropolis of neon signs and elegant product placement. With precise house beats and glistening chords, its melodies are wrapped in a clean and polished sheen – it’s something that would fit right in on the Planet Mu label. With so many releases to his name, this mix is an ideal gateway to discovering his acidcore vision. A more haunting mix arrives from Spirit Guide. I say “haunting” due to the pensive and melancholic tones applied to the contemporary R&B in “Night Tremors.” Beginning with Nelly Furtado’s “Say It Right” buried beneath yearning reverb and a propulsive beat, this melancholia beautifully carries across other tracks from the era, including Cassie, Ciara, Craig David and Arca. These weren’t necessarily artists I’d listen to or knew. It’s part of what makes DIS Magazine mixes so rewarding: the opportunity to discover overlooked pop gems. With “Materials” by Berlin-based She's Drunk, and equally “Villings” by London-based Iydes, we step into a sound design by architecture. Repetitive bursts of percussion are blocked into shapes, resounding bass, staccato glitches and jerky snares that cascade into slabs of moody monolithic noise, forming a disjointed yet compelling form of baroque electronica.

An early obsession, played repeatedly on a burnt CDr, was the peculiar slowcore big beat of “舞88” by AIDS-3D. Daniel Keller and Nik Kosmas slow tracks down to form dirges that seem to stretch forever. In some ways, this is more than just a straightforward mix – it’s an experiment that excavates a song’s nuances to reveal other worlds. In this mix, we receive a trance-induced instrumental of “Jumpin’ Jumpin’” by Destiny’s Child, a honkin’ DJ Bomba track and several other doses of tribal house, EDM-enthused Euro house. Slowed to a traipsing, sludge-like pace, it sounds delightfully demonic and strangely militant, yet relishes in its own hypnotic flow. The tempo picks up with White Car’s “No Fear Bad Boy Beat Club”, a riotous techno and hiphop extravaganza and a guaranteed party favourite! Diverse artists such as Zazou Bikaye, 808 State and Gesloten Cirkel receive the acid treatment, while White Car’s own creations flutter and doodle throughout. “Atlantean Techno” by Hollagramz is a colossal wave pursuing aquatic lineage. Its shimmering realms plummet the depths in search of unknown waveforms. Well-known IDM and electronica artists like AFX, Drexciya, Gescom and Martyn rub shoulders with lesser-known underground techno protagonists, all given space to wield the power of Poseidon’s trident. We emerge and venture into “The Future Sound of Soca”, a truly unique and super space-age journey from Mr One Hundred. This one makes me jump like crazy, yet there’s something slightly unnerving lurking in its palm tree marrow and electronic waters. With a blend of calypso and hi-tech metallic percussion, anthemic ragga chants – “Where the M-A-T-T-E-S-T”, “Space age pimp” and “Run the party down” – sprinkle across an atmosphere of frenetic synths designed to induce seizures for the inner mind and spirit. Born in St. Louis and now based in London, Mr One Hundred has formed a sound entirely his own.

As mentioned earlier, the aesthetic of DIS Magazine was highly inventive – dystopian in effect yet pushing the limits of the technology available at the time. It was forward-thinking, and sometimes the hardware couldn’t cope with it. Likewise, the mixes arrived with cover art that was unapologetic with provocative humour, pressing firmly against the cultural membrane. Ideas of otherworldly significance, lifestyle choices, counterculture and consumerism were all examined through a post-internet lens. The poster art for Gatekeeper’s “Dimension Intrusion” is a galactic swirl of worlds within worlds, a pastiche of Men In Black and deep-thought consciousness. The mix is perfectly matched too, scraping sub-genres of electronica through a vortex of anxiety. Our minds expand with bigger names like Orbital, Drexciya, The Future Sound Of London, LFO and Polygon Window, while ethereal interludes from Enya and Jean Michel Jarre offer respite. And all manner of techno madness spins in between echoing distant calls of Eurobeat 2000. Gatekeeper splits the atom inside your head, leaving the pieces in another dimension, before closing with an abrupt metallic-shredding riff. Next, we are unwittingly thrust into Whitehouse, a terrifying opening choice for the mix by Elite Gymnastics. Titled “I Want a 38-Minute Truce During Which There Is No Rape,” the piece begins with an intense rant from the noise act, but it eventually blooms into a heady journey of R&B club beats, saccharine K-pop, J-pop and Latin-inflected grooves. We’re served delights by Mu, Lady Chann, a house version of the Spirited Away soundtrack, before closing triumphantly with a syrupy explosion by Korean sensation HyunA. “Outsider Gabber” from the duo Renaissance Man offers a rather minimal electronic soundscape. It’s a somewhat misleading title. Instead of pummelling Dutch gabber, we get a curious blend of deliciously subdued techno, softly padded 4/4 beats introspectively curling around hi-tech synths and mossy electronics. But nothing can prepare you for the outlandish, sensationally smutty dancehall and reggaeton rhythms of the epic by Rizzla + blk.adonis. Their “Portia Nuh Play” mix is equally bombastic and stirring – a total tongue in (ass) cheek extravaganza. The keen-eyed may also notice the abbreviated title as “PNP” on the sleeve art, surrounded by several fist bumps of Jamaican politician, Portia Simpson Miller. Tactical social commentary, lampooning, but with admirable intent. This legendary mix features the best concrete smashing MCs, thrilling rhymes from toasters and headbutting beats to enrapture both mind and feet. They mercifully explain their dedication too: “Portia Simpson Miller, the former and newly re-elected Prime Minister of Jamaica and representative of the People's National Party, recently took an historically significant position by openly supporting GLBT legal protection in Jamaica, a country internationally notorious for a "culture of homophobia." Miller's statements come at a time of great cultural change in both Jamaica and dancehall music. This is for her.” It’s certainly a highlight of the DIS Magazine mix discography.

We return to IDM formations and architectural dance in “Soda Plains” from Firmiana Simplex. Despite jittery and asymmetrical abrasions throughout, there’s a thread of sincerity beneath it, like a ribbon of ecstatic hope. Alexis Chan’s original tracks gracefully swerve pizzicato, piano keys and Oriental melodies around a sea of ambiguity, luring us into the abyss. You may be wondering what makes DIS Magazine’s mixes different to those of guest contributions at other publications. Well, not that much, but it depends what you’re looking for. Excellent mixes from the likes of FACT, CRACK or Resident Advisor etc. often tread similar ground and even feature some of the same artists. But DIS had a distinctive humour – that flamboyant variety and disdain for being trendy. The hilarious or elusive artwork, thumbnail previews, embedded visuals and 3D art across the page surely reinforce that notion. This is why DIS hits the spot. Another early adventure burned to CDr in 2011 was “Clob Music” by Dev/Null. Its breakcore, gabber techno rush was a domain excavated from recent memory. I’d been hooked years before by the Tigerbeat6 label; Kid606 and his merry bunch of raving tricksters like Knifehandchop, DJ /rupture, Crack (We Are Rock), Blectum From Blechdom, Lesser etc., so I was susceptible to this frantic mess. Here, we begin with a hyped-up version of Rihanna’s “Rude Boy”, urgently elbowing its way through a brash rave-up of house and chaotic frat party madness, but not without a good dose of comedy too. Arca is now known as a singular artist, treading the fringes of spiky electronica while producing work with FKA Twigs, Kelela, Kanye West, and of course, Björk. In fact, on “Baron Foyel”, Björk reconfigured the melody of “Little Now A Lot” as the backbone for “Arisen My Senses” on her Utopia LP. Arca’s DIS mix is a monolith of swirling glitches and icy shards, punctuated by an odd reverb-soaked Craig David A Capella at its midpoint. Equally otherworldly is “A Mix For Logging Off” by Physical Therapy. This one leisurely lurches through sunshine-infused psychedelia, all filtered through a haze of electronica and dandy pop. Martin Luther King’s impassioned “I Have A Dream” speech is backed by aquatic IDM, there’s a murky remix of Olive’s “You’re Not Alone” and a wonderful reimaging of The Orb’s “Little Fluffy Clouds” alongside Moby’s “Body Rock,” all sounding like it could be found on Ninja Tune. It even brings a beatific instrumental of Vanessa Carlton’s piano-led megahit “A Thousand Miles” – not something I’d enjoy on the regular! The mix also includes one of the most incredible samples I’ve ever heard. But its source remains a head-scratching mystery. I’ll let you decide if it’s an erratic beat poet, satirical drug-addled monologue or simply a scene from a film – it’s so good I had to write out the entire thing;

“I am a warrior princess | Accepting the divinity of my being | I am an oracle of the goddess | Pretty much predicting bullshit unseen | I am stranded in Mendocino California | With no money and no ecstasy to sell | Basically, FUCK MY LIFE! | I know, I already tried summoning the spirit world with my pocket Ouija and only got an answer from Roy Orbison | As if I’m even going to cry over you right now!

What is that in the distance? | I hate walking on the freeway | Imagine a poppy field, be calm, lain out stretched, each pupil magnetically pulling each twinkling airplane closer to my self-destruction | Pissing away the hours | I am a disciple of the drift | A hitch-hiking priestess | Attracting serial killers on the land | It really is a long way to Hollywood | And excuse me, but my Mercury is in Pisces | So I might sound a bit dreamy | Solid things can be nomadic but never movements | I am an apocalyptic angel of death with plans to blow up New York City and Beverely Hills | I bet you’ve never seen a terrorist with such killer lip-gloss or with such killer legs.

Fuck Me! This heat is making my new stick and poke itch like shit | I squint into the sun | Oh God! I realise my memories of Neptune are real | What the fuck am I doing on Earth? | Woah! Fuck you, you fucking asshole! | This bug-eyed red troll almost runs me over, you tweaking meth-head | Mind you, I have on leather shorts and smell like ball sweat.

In recovery, I close my eyes and cast a spell to the wind | Quietly chanting, quietly wanting, quietly wishing: “Please take me home with you tonight” | I said “Please take me home with you tonight, please take me home alone with you tonight”

And there we have it, the yearning to be “taken home” by someone completely destroys you.

We enter a sort of comedy-driven arena in Dance System’s “Workout Module 001”, which on the surface is exactly what it sounds like – an aerobics laced protein shake of ghetto techno. There’s so much going on: frantic beats, loops of repetitive hard-hitting tech, clanging claps and bouncy bass. It unashamedly pumps up the tempos and pimps out the space. What’s hilarious is the voyeuristic computer AI voice willing us to dance until what will surely be our demise. His deadpan, slightly sinister tone is always one step ahead of us: “just because I am not talking does not mean I am not watching.” I suppose we better do what he tells us. Then I arrive at “Euphoria Connection” by the mysterious Zakmatic. Could this be the best thing that ever happened to me, or the worst?! The soundtrack to obsession and limerence, the 55-minute rollercoaster of ecstasy and euphoria merges pop songs drenched in yearning. Brimming with Eurodance, trance, raggaeton and Jersey club, Zakmatic glues it all together with squiggly synth waves, theremin warbles and pulses that ricochet through an otherworldly metropolis in your brain. The essence of euphoria lashes us with scary realms that make you want to leap off a building, while dialogue samples question our existence. It’s become my favourite of all the DIS Magazine mixes, mimicking the chaos in my head. Tipping me over the edge is a reimagining of Jennifer Lopez’s “Waiting For Tonight” funnelled through a mournful whirr that descends into desperation. Sylver’s “Turn The Tide” and “Summer Solstice” clutch at melodrama and Kelela’s fantastic “Bankhead” strides in compassionately. “Euphoria Connection” is a trance Fantasia, disturbingly supernatural. Zakmatic creates a constant sense of unease, teetering on the edge of euphoria. However, his own tracks are stars of the show here: “Soundwave,” “Dança” and “Lost World” are completely unique, showcasing the neurosis in his traphouse sound. He’s left an undeniable influence on me, managing to shake me to my core, immersing me in every emotion imaginable; anxiety, shame, dizzying bliss connected through grief, recklessness and a pure state of emergency. After such a rush, we’re in need of a downer. It arrives in the form of “Screentones” by Motion Graphics, a clinical network of glitch machinery, elevator shafts and encroaching bleeps. The sounds resonating in this project by Joe Williams flutter over a revolving screen of tech devices, software alerts and the language of programming. It merges nature to the modern age. Then we cruise over to an unlikely dystopian sound. “Adeptus's Electro Street Mix” by the mysterious Party Effects clan feels like we’ve landed on the tough streets of LA. This is another unique enveloping sound, forming squelchy, slimy formations that burrow into your membrane. ‘80s electro is filtered through a modern post-apocalyptic glaze. It could be an alternative Blade Runner soundtrack, with Party Effects’ original compositions bubbling and oozing with pop-lockin’ beats, orchestral hit strikes and popping 808 toms. Among these eager synthetics, a muddy atmosphere of uncertainly sways. But emerging from the smoke machine is Kreayshawn’s irresistibly absorbing “Bumpin’ Bumpin’”, the imposing “Access Collective Unconsciousness” by TRV and the sassy swerve of “Arabian Dreams” by Dynamik Bass System, among other magnetized delights. This is electro-shock therapy for the head, and with added mantras uttering “Dominance Electricity” seeping throughout, we’re given a gloopy reminder of our place in a vast capitalist world of disorder.

In ”Origins” from Karmelloz, we step onto a crunchy catwalk of clipped contemporary R&B, illuminating an imaginary nightclub. A conveyor belt of sturdy beats intercept shimmering chords, descending drones and looping motifs. Though one of the shorter mixes, it packs in plenty, creating a cohesive cascade of techno and glitchy electronica. The overarching sensation of “Euro To Dollar” by Contact Lens somewhat epitomises the sound of the early 2010s; an aura of dubstep and off-kilter electronica akin to labels like Tri Angle, Hyperdub or Fade To Mind. Crunky beats, synthetic Gregorian chants and swerving chords coil around the spine, while uneasy atmospherics flirt in muzak territory, as if soundtracking a bad university art film. The wheezing claustrophobia feels like the ascent of vaporwave in reverse. The duo does however sustain humour in this opaque soundscape of industry, commerce and skyscraper stature – doing this by interspersing very random alerts from a computerised female voice, virus-like, popping up to declare “You have earned a trophy” or “Fill out your customs form.” These interruptions shrewdly fit in with the stock exchange cover art and metropolis theme of its title. “Ready to kick some ass!” Next up is the über-extroverted gabber-extravaganza “CyberBULLY.” Turn up the volume on this one and let insanity take control. This is no straightforward gabber set, as something far more blistering runs through its coarse veins. Buffoonery abounds, yet beneath the manic hardcore pummelling is a surprising stream of sincerity and sorrow, intelligence and heart. Who else would think to layer sped-up Kate Bush, warbling Siouxsie Sioux, the high tension of Omar Souleyman and a slowed down PJ Harvey over booming bass and jagged chords? That’s not all, thought-provoking post-punk oscillations from Fun Boy Three, Virgin Prunes, Bauhaus and even Julee Cruise, are led through the chaos. I’m glad these guys thrust this mix to my inner-core. It feels a million miles from their debut LP “Harbored Mantras” on Tri Angle – a witchy, ambient trip that wades through a murky pond. To reset those weary bones, we turn to “Clean Sweep” by the duo Mirror Mirror. They invoke a quiet, pensive magic, curating a dreamy set of songs that feels like a fleeting dalliance. We’re coerced by the gentle thrum of downbeat techno, childlike fantasy kingdoms and otherworldly dynamics. We’re bewitched by Julee Cruise’s introspective “Rockin’ Back Inside my Heart”, the wide-eyed wonder of Primal Scream’s “Inner Flight” and Jimmy Sommerville’s siren-like call in “Coming” – the angelic big beat closer from Sally Potter’s impeccable film “Orlando.” Many other ethereal and blissful moments intertwine, all resonating with a familiar, yet far-removed allure.

One of the most unusual and downright oddball mixes to grace DIS Magazine is the celebratory “Happy Birthday” by the mysterious Babe E. It’s actually the work of artist Joseph Kraska, also known as Peppré Ann. How to describe it though? I’ve listened countless times; its infectious melodies and basslines worming their way into my cartilage, pith and sinew. It rummages deep in the hope of producing joy. Imagine a sort of techno for toddlers, kindergarten class or electronica for a baby shower. The bass is mirthful, poking the cheek with a comical tongue. Ridiculous sounds fill the space forming a panache of squiggles, gurgles and twinkles of ecstatic nonsense. “You think that I came from a stork… What are you, a dork?” It has hiphop basslines, techno-inflected soft-hitting beats, manipulated samples and vocals in an air of constant madness pinning everything together. With each listen my perception evolves and shifts. To get a better sense of Babe E’s world I explored their YouTube channel. You should too, as the videos are hilarious. A sort of slapstick pastiche of The Sims, ‘90s LEGO Paradisa sets, Paris Hilton meets drag, even a white girl hellscape à la Rebecca Black’s “Friday”, but inverted with surreal CGI, garish colours, pop culture references and bizarre scenarios. It’s bonkers, much like this mix. The final seven minutes is pure sensory overload; insanely catchy basslines and squeaky melodies looping and evolving in a deliriously trippy playpen. The “XTC Mix” delivers an engrossing dose of high-octane bass music. Producer J-CUSH, also a member of electronica supergroup Future Brown, alongside Fatima Al Qadiri and the duo Nguzunguzu, serves up his vision of “ecstasy.” It’s a delectable collection of dance tracks, punctuated by dramatic stabs of heavy gangster bass, beats and dubstep synths. On the flipside, these suggestive rave anthems glisten as though we’re trapped inside a Sega Mega Drive machine. Take a detour through the secret side door of your local grocery store’s supply closet and you’ll find “Realidad Bodega” by False Witness. There’s nothing false about Marco Gomez, the techno maestro behind this vibrant carnival of explosive reggaeton and frantic Latin rhythms. Like many of the DIS mixes, it captures a pure rawness of its tracks, like turning up the volume dial and blowing the Soundsystem – a falling apart at the seams uncertainty. ‘90s rave chords and acid squiggles wrap around Mardi Gras percussion like conjoined twins. It’s camp, joyous and hardcore on the floor, and it means it. Returning to the shopfloor, radio transmissions finally give way to the classic “Heads High” by Mr Vegas as a familiar closer. One of the more popular mixes in the DIS archive is “Perfect Lullaby” by Nguzunguzu. This downbeat affair drifts through slick and sensual contemporary R&B creating a dreamy concoction of unfussy appeal. It certainly soothes as we travel through this dystopia.

That dystopia returns in “PAN”, an EP of tranced-out EBM by Music For Your Plants. The tension is dialled to the max. Ambiguous chords prowl a city of grime and toxic fumes, the momentum building towards an apocalyptic atmosphere, and traumatising finale. A similar day of reckoning arrives with the disaster-stricken sound of “Girlhood” by Recycle Culture. With a sincere curiosity, it feels like we’re being rained on by electronic wash, ricocheting bleeps, blips and glitches of static in our ears. This storm of interference is also penetrated by catchy pop hooks and tunes guiding us through with melancholic grace. Even when trapped inside this vortex of spectres and distorted ghouls, we navigate a fabulous reworking of “Genesis” by Grimes, which manages to somehow transcend the magic of the original. It’s rather befitting of Erik Moline’s repurposing namesake. Also, listen out for a hypnotic slice of triumphantly elegiac orchestral pop – I still can’t figure out if it’s Arabic, Russian or Yemenite Jewish! The “Fast To Black Latex” mix plays like an extraordinarily eclectic radio show or a dance-floor-ready DJ set. Pictureplane spins riotous tracks by Naughty Boy, Idan K & The Movement of Rhythm, and the fantastically mad hi-NRG gabber of Brothers In Crime, before more jungle and breakbeats swerve in. It slowly evolves into groovy new-wave, the scary industrial of Einstürzende Neubauten, and a melancholic spiral of synth-pop to close the end of the night. Phew! We’ve seen how DIS Magazine guests often slowed songs to a snail-like dirge, sometimes for comic effect, while others slam the accelerator towards early ’90s rave hysteria. “Bottom Topics” by CTRL+W33D takes that mentality and totally runs wild. Whoever’s hiding behind this alias is summoning anxiety and yearning by ultra-processing trance, house and pop hits into chipmunk levels of paranoia. Lyrics still slice deep despite the hilarious rapidity of the tracks. To close, we’re thrown to the curb by a profoundly slowed version of noughties track “Cry For You” by September, the eerie vocals greatly counteracting all that frenzied speed.

We’re on the homestretch of this intensely personal journey. Kingdom’s “Clubposite” begins with Kelela’s blissed out, sensually tender “Bankhead”, present in both A Capella form alongside scattered explosions and helicopter thrum, slowly unfolding into the beautiful instrumental. Everything that follows is a force to be reckoned with, lathering us in contemporary R&B, hiphop and clubland music, blurring the mainstream and the underground. Kingdom’s dancefloor is split wide open like an earthquake of clamouring techno sounds. I can’t resist his thumping “Fukin’ Jaker” transposing into the spooky terrain of Dat Oven’s “Icy Lake” back through to Kowton’s foreboding take on Untold’s “Stop What You’re Doing,” and then perfectly matched to Gatekeeper’s “Tree Drum.” He closes with a mashup of Fatima Al Qadiri’s “Oil Well” dashed against conscious rap, all unnerving and unsettling. Following this heavy dose of techno machinery, “One Night In VesperTown” brings us back to a more playful climate. What I mean is unabashed squeaky sounding electronica courtesy of VesperTown, who pushes the ecstatic button to activate a self-indulged schadenfreude ejector seat straight to a frat party. The Israeli DJ and producer has hands and elbows draped all over the terminals. With the SFX dial popping off, he spoons out the most saccharine of candy, cheerleaders, infomercials, malls and neon arcade lights – almost like being trapped inside an alternative version of PlayStation’s dance ‘em up, Bust-A-Groove circa 1998. Can you stomach it until the end? The sister label to Fade To Mind is the appropriately strange Night Slugs operated by musicians Bok Bok and L-Vis 1990 (aka Dance System). The label carved an incredibly distinct vision of techno and grime. The Hysterics “20KG Mix” is a sweaty, slaughtering 49-minute workout of epic proportions, requiring steadfast dedication to endure its steam and piston powered propulsive beats. Maybe it’s my love of rhythms and percussion that drives me to it. That’s not to say there’s a lack of melody – bleeps and pulses scatter among the cacophony of shifting hi-hats, clanging toms and sleuth-like snares. It relentlessly builds, ready to burst like a weakened dam, a Ferrari flipping off a cliff, or machinery working overtime, running low on functional lubrication. Philip Gamble is the DJ behind this intoxicating industrial techno, also releasing projects under the alias Girl Unit. A little later, his minimal maximalist outlook unexpectantly gives way to galactic spotlights and the skittering enthusiasm reminiscent of The Black Dog or Plaid. Our final stop is “Street Trash” by musician, illustrator and 3D artist, Murlo. I saved it for last as it possesses an unmistakable sense of closure – a bit like the perfectly chosen final track of an album, gently warning us of the ensuing comedown. Murlo’s mix is delightfully optimistic, weaving in the Latin grooves and reflective tones of his own productions among other delicious rhythms. As the pace gradually lifts, he shines a beam of positivity across a triumphant flutter of zouk, Soca and dancehall.

Having read David Toop’s comprehensive Ocean Of Sound, I found his intriguing insights into shamanic practice sparked a correlation between myself and the frantic nature of these DIS mixes. They push the limits of music into a compact and convulsive form, translating into a kind of psychosis via dance. I’m like an unravelling rope of movement trying to prove something. Perhaps it’s simply a coping mechanism and a way of grappling with life’s despondency and discord. Whether it’s intentional hedonism or an overboiling catharsis, these mixes help to fill a void when a sense of anguish lingers. Shamanism, as Toop portrays, is to purge the body of ailments – mental or physical. I can dance myself into a stupor and feel a similar exorcism. Toop writes about travelling deep into the Amazon in the late ’70s to record ceremonies of the Yanomami tribes and enveloping rainforest. Somehow, that journey echoes my own naïve attempt at expelling my own spirit. As the world increasingly becomes more uncertain and life more demanding, the DIS Magazine mixes feel more relevant than ever; the soundtrack for every emotion. A musical explosion. Introverted hedonism facing a fully conscious impending doom.