Germany's Sender label seems pleasingly content to overlook many of today's passing trends, concentrating instead on producing quality no-nonsense, no-prefix techno. Blome's version is prescient by-the-book Sender product, satisfying all big-room requirements while maintaining sufficient hooks to intrigue deeper-listening minimalists. Hard kicks in front of decaying crackle and a hydraulic rhythmic shudder set the scene before the 'Time to Jak' vocal seeps in and trails off in sparkling hues. Metal pinballs are let loose amid flying chunks of arcade clutter, further disrupting the vocal into broken phonemes spat through various processors. Draped in delay and echo it's an enjoyably heavy ride, despite a recurring squeak motif which grows increasingly annoying.
A Guy Called Gerald begins more quietly with pin-cushion tics and softer kicks but the entrance of a bellowing rave siren, albeit digitally dampened for contemporary ears, soon dispels any hope of subtlety. More sounds are piled on: gallon-drum clangs, photon rays, mountains of buzz and fizz, but it’s a kitchen sink approach interrupted by endless shifts and pauses that adds little interest to an empty exercise. A reactionary trip back to the hardcore days of old, one wouldn't be surprised to find this reissued on Kompakt's Immer offshoot. But while it may add colour to otherwise unwavering minimal sets, it’s unengaging and unnecessary.