“Superb side of itchy, economic rhythmic psychedelia from the Portuguese artist behind Serpente’s brilliant recent batteries on Sucata Tapes and Ecstatic. Making his vinyl debut as Ondness, Bruno Silva graces Discrepant’s Souk label with 10 tracks of pointillist, scratchy percussion and amorphous bass tessellated in patterns resembling footwork and current Afro-Latin dance movements, yet never quite landing in any fixed style apart from his own. The vibe is generally a little less club-cut than his preceding works as Serpente, but, that being said, canny DJs will surely find ways of working of working the 10 spicy joints into sets along with similarly adventurous, futuristic rhythms from Beatrice Dillon to Foodman or Eliza B.C., for example. ““Meio Que Sumiu” can be translated as the “community that disappeared” and it alludes to the disappearance of outdoors communities and how it affects the music we listen (and how we listen to it). Ondness wanted to release an album less about himself and his inspirations and more about his aspirations about how dance music could be in an era of constant interactivity and information. But also, how it fails to be that aspiration. Once again, like in “Not Really Now Not Any More”, Bruno works in the territory of science fiction. Investigating the present and future with nostalgia about how things could be and could evolve. It’s music in the realm of non-existing, instead of raving nostalgia about dance music from the 1990s, Bruno explores the idea of possible futures with different approaches to dance/electronic music in each song. In “Meio Que Sumiu” it’s obvious his music has matured and found its listenes. Bruno is no longer a bedroom musician. (He never was, but he sure worked on that idea. And very well, we might say). The dancefloor is now his, with music that explores the deeper immersion of ourselves. Communities may be changing, but the principles of dance music are always the same. Even with motion sickness for future nostalgia, like the music in “Meio Que Sumiu”.” — Boomkat

Still with the best possible memory of “Nova Vista”, a record edited in mid-2017, trash CAN continues to amaze. The dissection of electronic elements serves as a pretext for higher flights where the rhythm seems to coordinate trash CAN’s kaleidoscopic trips. Not belonging to a physical world, nor to an imagined one, trash CAN likes to move in the limbo of things.