It has been a big year for Hessle Audio. True, the vaunted label is consistently home to landmark releases in electronic music, but 2023 has been out of the ordinary. In addition to two exceptional EPs in Hessle's normal line of programming (Toumba's Petals and Anz's Clearly Rushing), this year we have received two unusually significant records. Both are visually identified, with cover art that departs from the minimalist colour blocks that have been a Hessle Audio trademark from the very beginning. The first one is Changing Channels by Hessle labelhead Pangaea, an collection of unfuckwithable dancefloor cuts that comfortably ranks as one of my favourite albums of the year. The second is an EP instantly distinguished by vibrant aquarelles on its cover - Rosa Rugosa by Olof Dreijer. It is a revelation.

I believe that adjectives are a music writer's most enduring friend and, luckily, Rosa Rugosa is adjective-inducing body music. The sound that Dreijer conjures on this EP is unlike anything I have heard this year. It is defined by these fibrous, elastic, pitch-bending, pan flute-y synths that are just everywhere. They pile on top of one another in a way that should be cacophonous but is instead intensely harmonic, leaving bright, colourful streaks all across the mix. The effect is immediately entrancing and hallucinatory. Unlike much of the Hessle Audio catalogue, this is not a release that takes time to open up. From first listen it presents the kind of distinctive sound design that would make a festival programmer drool.

But, still, body music. The beats on Rosa Rugosa are rotund and lurching, referencing music from all corners of the globe. While those fluorescent synths mentioned earlier recall the sounds of European folk music, rhythmically the EP draws from the Portuguese African diaspora. The title track and 'Camelia' are particularly indebted to kuduro, and you can hear shades of batida on 'Cassia'. Yet despite their polyrhythmic complexity, I am sure you could isolate a shuffling UK house pulse from the stems of each song here. Dreijer manages to blend both off-kilter and sequenced percussion with the immaculate control that comes with 25 years in the game. Rosa Rugosa is so densely layered that it constantly threatens to careen out of control but never does.

There is a curious momentum shared by each of the songs here. You can't help but move to them although you might struggle to figure out why. Every internal element feels elusive, impossible to pin down, but always pleasure centre maximising. I think Dreijer has realised it is hard to chinstroke with your mouth agape.

87

Sam Gollings

24 October 2023