Charlotte de Witte fills Tomorrowland, Time Warp and Sónar. Now comes the album, the moment when even the most sought-after DJs have to show their cards. The debut is built around two pillars: straight kick drums and bass lines that hammer the same note like a jackhammer. The result is a ritual with a coquettish flavor, thriving on the contrast between muscular and seductive, as in the almost frivolous melodies laid over more menacing rhythms, or the Arabic-tinged vocalizations over acid basslines.
One of the main limitations is the skippability: a few minutes are enough to say you've made it through the track, and this holds true for nearly all eleven episodes. Minimal techno is built on repetition, certainly. But sustaining the same cell for six or eight minutes without slipping into tedium depends on subtle mutations, on nearly invisible filaments that create friction.
Here the approach is far too simple: that Roland TB-303 obsessively repeating the same note produces a worn-out effect. "Memento Mori", with its female Gregorian chant, and "Higher", ambient-breakbeat with suspended tension, are glimpses that confirm the potential, immediately squandered by tracks that share structure, timbres and almost interchangeable progressions. The suspicion is that this is a work completed with little ardor. Perhaps its universe remains that of the console, between CDJs and turntables, and that is not necessarily a flaw.
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25/11/2025
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Alessandro Giustiniano, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.