Collating material over a period of four years – street recordings, youtube rips and plenty of steel drums – Maskell constructed a JG Ballard-esque broadcast from a sunny dystopia. His head-spinning tapestry of melodic techno and crushed cityscapes nailed the feeling of being a stranger in a strange land. For the city’s lolloping, dubby percussion we reach deep into its guts, pulling out a squiggly bricolage of pistons, pool balls, window frames, jets of steam. In turns rasping and narcotic, Concrete Island’s beatless sections are akin to the crunching menace of early Clark, or Murcof‘s cosmic space treatments. An occasional shimmer guitar pop gem emerges from the rubble.

100 concrete grey cassettes with new riso printed artwork.

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"Lush and intriguingly varied ... a kaleidoscope-like diversion of styles, held together by the artist's compellingly far-reaching curiosity and playfulness" - No Fear of Pop

"A blend of juddering beats, urban found sounds and shimmering synth, this rattles along like an unmanned tube train stuffed with fluorescent lights" - The 405

"From techno to penetrate through the noisy, to tropical Poppunesu of steel pan-use Tadayowasu the Phantom extraordinary" - Obscuro Japan

"Recorded with all the depth, care and attention to detail of anything you'd hear on Leaf or Ninja Tune" - Brighton Source