Scuba
Claustrophobia

I think the greatest charm of Claustrophobia lies in not knowing the context from which it was generated, allowing oneself to be immersed in its murky atmospheres. A kaleidoscopic darkness has descended on the brightness of Scuba, aka Paul Rose, the producer behind the HotFlush label who has provided his particular interpretation of dubstep, but also an artist who has extensively demonstrated his prowess in the house music realm. The new album is a mysterious and captivating sonic syrup, very different from the previous Personality: vocal parts are totally (or almost) gone, as is any desire for high rankings. If the previous single The Hope prominently featured in video game soundtracks like Forza Horizon, you shouldn't expect a similar outcome for the tracks composing this very personal release.

Sprinkled with oriental suggestions, tracks suspended in an endless limbo with pulsating techno discharges incredibly close to Richie Hawtin, the album is also noted for its worrisome titles, such as All I Think About Is Death, Needle Phobia, and Why You Feel So Low. Unsurprisingly, these are also the most intense episodes of the album, but the quality is exceedingly high in all tracks. There's no trace of filler, just great mastery in maintaining control over complex compositions like Levitation and Transience, the two extremes of the album that never use drum machines to take off but captivate with their ambient nuances. The sound quality is simply phenomenal and demonstrates Rose's unmistakable ability at the mixer; no sound is out of place, everything is meticulously curated with spatiality crafted surgically to never lose the listener. Even Black on Black, the longest track and closest to Plastikman's world, never bores despite reaching 9 minutes in length.

Again, compared to the colorful and lively Personality, the seemingly forced pessimism of Claustrophobia might appear forced, if not incomprehensible. However, what happened to Rose between the two albums somehow justifies its essence. A severe illness suffered by the musician seems to have infected the tracks with anxieties and fears about health and life itself, with what seems a spiritual escape evidently facilitated by a stay in Japan. Not least, one should also consider the trilogy of Rose's experimental EPs released before this album, which already distanced themselves from dubstep or however you prefer to define its personal derivation. Of course, these are hypotheses that help us understand the mood of an album; everyone is free to experience these compositions as they see fit. What certainly cannot be criticized is the lack of coherence; though diverse, the ten tracks are splendidly cohesive. My favorite track is the aforementioned Needle Phobia, which contrary to the title is almost seductive, thanks to the brilliant intuition of slowing down an ethnic percussion to create a micro-universe sprinkled with EDM sounds. Hats off. Another noteworthy aspect, perhaps the album's most intriguing feature, is that Rose never really manages to evoke anguish, thanks to the insertion of melodic elements—always very pronounced—that significantly soften the final effect, let's say even with some sounds that are too "easy". This is a darkness cast over a very powerful light, difficult to suffocate, generating a clash with uncertain outcomes. A beautiful chapter for this brilliant artist, even though we're sorry about the not-so-positive context that inspired it, it's certainly worth more than one listen.