If one wanted to summarize the artistic journey of Martijn Deijkers, one might evoke the ouroboros, the symbol chosen by Friedrich Nietzsche to explain the theory of Eternal Return: a snake biting its tail. Far from wanting to stir philosophical debates, it can be said that the decade separating Great Lengths from Voids resembles a wrapping around oneself, a circular movement in which the end paradoxically coincides with the beginning.
After the excellent debut in 2009, our artist indeed produces Ghost People and The Air Between Words, two albums released by prestigious labels, Brainfeeder and Ninja Tune. The works, while containing appreciable tracks and dancefloor-oriented atmospheres, are not entirely convincing, particularly The Air Between Words, a disappointing exploration of minimal and microhouse territories. And then? After producing tracks for other artists, Deijkers lands at the Berlin label Ostgut Ton, one of the most influential in the techno scene of recent years. Whether it's the underground atmosphere (Great Lengths is distributed by 3024, founded by the same Martyn) or the desire to return to his roots, the fact is that Voids revisits past sounds, reconnecting in part to the suggestions of the debut. From "great lengths" to current "voids," the common thread seems to be the attention to the invisible and indeterminate; "the air between words," to quote the title of the previous album. Added to this is the pain for the loss of a friend, DJ Marcus Intalex, with all the voids (cosmic, existential) that an event like death seems to open or generate.
It is therefore a more inspired Martyn that we find in his latest work, an experienced producer who, in a little over forty-four minutes, tries to process a mourning (a "void") and, at the same time, recover a weight or consistency: those of his own music. This explains the mix of garage, dubstep, techno, house and drum and bass that characterizes Voids, an album that after the rarefied intro of "Voids One" (sounds, voices, noises of slamming doors: the evocation of a fatal accident?) immediately dives into a particularly well-done trio of tracks: Manchester, where broken beats and keyboards accompany a voice stating: “Deep deep talent/And we’ve lost a big one”; the acidic "Mind Rain", which highlights a sophisticated and engaging layering; "Nya", another gem rich in dark sounds and disjointed drums, to be listened to closely with headphones. Starting from "Why" the rhythms become more regular, close to the ambient-house of Orb (as with the track in question, where someone evocatively and engagingly asks “Why?”) or Ostgut's techno (the driving "Cutting Tone"). There are also surprising moments like "Try To Love You", built with piano loops that create an unsettling but pleasant sensation, while the concluding "Voids Two" develops the ideas of the introduction into a drum and bass-flavored track (the drums vaguely recall "Firestarter" by The Prodigy), punctuated by a voice obsessively repeating “Explosive decompression”.
At the end of the playback, one has the impression of having listened to a concept album about loss and abandonment, a personal work with a therapeutic function for its creator. Has the grief been processed? It's hard to know, yet it's difficult not to appreciate Voids, a work that, while winking at the sounds of Great Lengths (at the risk of getting lost in dangerous déjà vus), stands out for a certain ruggedness and overall power, probably absent in its illustrious predecessor.
Welcome back, Martijn.
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