- After their superlative early work on Chain Reaction ('Hong Kong' being one of the label's finest releases) Berlin duo Monolake have become increasingly concerned with complex sound design and intricate rhythmic structures. Unfortunately the results have often tended to be rigid, abrasive and alienating. The gorgeous hiss and condensation which clung to 'Cyan' and 'Occam' - the results of cheap mics, primitive reverb and a relaxed approach to production – were surgically banished to founding member Robert Henke's beautiful solo drone recordings, and Monolake became the twitchy project for Henke and Torsten Pröfrock to vent their algorithmic, industrial frustrations. And, heaven forbid, they've been known to stray from the 4/4 techno template.
‘Alaska Melting’, however, is militarily regimented and quite staggering. The sounds and programming are as pedantic as ever but the force by which it's all powered is undeniably overwhelming. 'Alaska' on the A-side is marked by a crisp rat-tat-tat drummed out on a paint tin functioning as hats, around which kicks and claps are aggressively punched out in neat house time. The rest is all clamour: a bassline of beaten sheet metal, screeching subway trains, and machine gun salvos fired into brick walls. There's no melody to speak of, but the sounds remain cohesive as more piles in and it all surges forward. Things are removed for occasional (and welcome) breaks, and during spare moments it clips along (almost) like pleasant minimal techno.
'Melting' follows the same standard only the percussion is more jiggy and the regular hat pops like a firecracker. In the clap position is a beefed up rimshot fired up with reverb, and a pleasant dark hum flows through the whole like sharp wine. Everything but the hum winds down with a minute to spare and we're left surrounded by thick grey cloaks of static. These are fine tracks and proof that Henke and Pröfrock can charm a discotheque when the mood suits, only they're more suited to dancing in warehouses or large white art spaces.