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12"
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ACIDTEST 001-1
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Acid Test repress the very first Acid Test 12", a now-renowned outing by Vienna's Tin Man aka Johannes Auvinen. Acid Test 01.1 the repress serves up the original "Nonneo" alongside a new 2024 rework of "Mystified Acid" on the A-side, while the B-side sees the revered hypnotic "Nonneo" remix by Italian techno master Donato Dozzy, rounded off by long-time favorite "Love Sex Acid" from the Acid Acid album. It's a sweetly balanced package of vintage Tin Man vibes, always searching for the heart in the machine. Mastered and recut by Rashad.
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12"
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ACIDTEST 020EP
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Vienna-based producer and 303 maestro Tin Man returns to Acid Test for his first solo EP for the label in over five years. It's another impeccable outing of romantic acid variations, especially tailored for unforgettable dancefloor revelations. Tin Man has been setting the pace for forward-looking acid lovers for close to two decades now, and on his 15th Acid Test appearance he takes the vibe back to early and proto-house roots, stripping back the musical elements while layering in the euphoria with four perfectly crafted slices of feelgood 303. Opening track "Hidden Acid" already sounds like a long-lost classic, with strings draped over bouncy acid and motorik drums, stretching out over nearly nine minutes, and beautifully capturing the feel of house music circa 1991. "Swaying Acid" comes in all propulsive, toms and congas setting the foundation for melodic acid lines to weave through your heart strings. On the B Side, "Running Acid" is fully optimized for the autobahn fast lane -- a gradual, slow-filtered acid meltdown that builds and releases in tandem with driving hats and vaporous pads that hang over the track like early morning mists. "Wrapped Up Acid" brings the EP to a fitting close, slowing the tempo for a low-key easy dance excursion par excellence -- smooth yet spikey 303 riffs punctuate the chords that drift through with a hint of Badalamenti in the progression. With the Hidden Acid EP Tin Man might hark back to more vintage times, but the emotive power is as strong as ever. The naivety of the '90s is instead replaced with a conviction behind the musical choices that brings even more weight to the heartwarming vibes. This is acid in some of the best shape it's ever been, enhanced and upgraded specifically for the dance.
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CD
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BB 428CD
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Renowned acid cosmologist Johannes Auvinen, best known by his alias Tin Man, leaves the club floor behind for a full-length kosmische excursion on Bureau B. Since his first Tin Man records nearly 20 years ago, Auvinen has impelled acid -- in the grand tradition of Phuture and co. -- into shapes and forms heretofore uncharted. He does it again on his latest, Arles, exploring a new realm of impressionistic beauty where pristine, heartfelt melodies dance delicately atop austere motorik rhythms. It's a trip you'll want to take again and again.
"'Cosmic,' as defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary, means 'of or relating to the cosmos, the extraterrestrial vastness,' or 'relating to abstract spiritual or metaphysical ideas.' In that light, the first record by Tin Man, aka Johannes Auvinen, on Bureau B is cosmic indeed -- kosmische, if you will. Auvinen is best known for his manifold expressions of acid, in the house and techno sense, that pull your heartstrings as they move your feet. But on Arles, he leaves his dance floor bonafides behind for an album-length journey through inner and outer space. Although Arles isn't built for the club, it's unmistakably a Tin Man record, through and through. (Fret not: adventurous DJs will find much to work with here, naturally.) Auvinen's tender melodies, coaxed from an array of gear including his signature Roland TB-303, dance delicately atop minimal, propulsive rhythms. The form is different, but the fundament remains the same. In the manner of its namesake city, Arles is a portrait of impressionistic beauty. One might call it a turning point for Auvinen, a new direction, but like Auvinen's best work elsewhere, Arles is disarming in its unveiled simplicity. There is no artifice here; this album has nothing to prove, no need to convince the listener of anything. Its elegance is accessible immediately, its grace given freely. And after the record's done, chances are you'll find yourself dropping the needle right back at the beginning. Each listen reveals a new tenor -- each track becomes a new favorite. It's a trip you'll want to take again and again." --Chris Zaldua
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LP
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BB 428LP
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LP version. Renowned acid cosmologist Johannes Auvinen, best known by his alias Tin Man, leaves the club floor behind for a full-length kosmische excursion on Bureau B. Since his first Tin Man records nearly 20 years ago, Auvinen has impelled acid -- in the grand tradition of Phuture and co. -- into shapes and forms heretofore uncharted. He does it again on his latest, Arles, exploring a new realm of impressionistic beauty where pristine, heartfelt melodies dance delicately atop austere motorik rhythms. It's a trip you'll want to take again and again.
"'Cosmic,' as defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary, means 'of or relating to the cosmos, the extraterrestrial vastness,' or 'relating to abstract spiritual or metaphysical ideas.' In that light, the first record by Tin Man, aka Johannes Auvinen, on Bureau B is cosmic indeed -- kosmische, if you will. Auvinen is best known for his manifold expressions of acid, in the house and techno sense, that pull your heartstrings as they move your feet. But on Arles, he leaves his dance floor bonafides behind for an album-length journey through inner and outer space. Although Arles isn't built for the club, it's unmistakably a Tin Man record, through and through. (Fret not: adventurous DJs will find much to work with here, naturally.) Auvinen's tender melodies, coaxed from an array of gear including his signature Roland TB-303, dance delicately atop minimal, propulsive rhythms. The form is different, but the fundament remains the same. In the manner of its namesake city, Arles is a portrait of impressionistic beauty. One might call it a turning point for Auvinen, a new direction, but like Auvinen's best work elsewhere, Arles is disarming in its unveiled simplicity. There is no artifice here; this album has nothing to prove, no need to convince the listener of anything. Its elegance is accessible immediately, its grace given freely. And after the record's done, chances are you'll find yourself dropping the needle right back at the beginning. Each listen reveals a new tenor -- each track becomes a new favorite. It's a trip you'll want to take again and again." --Chris Zaldua
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4LP
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AT 008LP
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Acid Test reissues the highly sought-after Acid Acid LP from Tin Man, originally released in 2005. Now titled Acid Acid Acid, it includes a fourth disc of unreleased material recorded from the period. Remastered by Stefan Betke.
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2LP
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AT 004LP
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Gatefold double LP version, in gatefold sleeve. Includes download card. What does a rave sound like the next day? The strobe lights in a dark warehouse, the pounding kick, the blur of ecstatic faces lead to a morning-after emptiness, all fade into memories of the friends you once had. On Ode, Tin Man (proper name Johannes Auvinen) explores this feeling, offering tracks which possess an exhausted joy, the aural equivalent of the stretch of time beginning when the last record is played and stretching on towards the doleful contemplation of last night's unmade sheets. Appropriately, Tin Man's melancholic dance music is more club-ready than ever. The opening tracks explore the spacious atmosphere first proposed on Neo Neo Acid and the (recently-repressed) Acid Test 01 collaboration with Donato Dozzy. Auvinen continues to coax unique, bittersweet sounds out of the 303 -- his control is akin to a virtuosic Theremin-player, all dramatic lunges and dynamics. Yet on tracks like "Depleted Serotonin," the memories of half-remembered nights surface. That track reprises the minor-key rave breakdown, ending with nearly three-minutes of knackered techno throb. Similarly, "What a Shame" sounds like a forgotten Warp classic run through Tin Man's palette of tasteful reserve. Always conceptual, Tin Man is commenting on big-room techno music by presenting his thoughtful, hungover version of it. On "Vertigo," he reins in the acid box acrobatics -- opting instead for a rudimentary, early-Chicago style pattern, eventually following optimistic chords skyward. It's a simulacrum of that end-of-the-night moment when the music is so charged and utopic that all fatigue is forgotten. Auvinen's recognized talent to imbue machines with complex human emotion draws us into his world. With Tin Man's music, there is always something left unsaid -- he uses familiar elements yet his perspective remains singular and mysterious. Each dream-like track is another clue. He ends the set with the intensely dramatic "Memoraphilia" and "Ode." The former concludes on an ominous note with strings that evoke paranoia, yet this feeling, too, will pass. The final (and title) track begins with the Deepchord-level percussive filtering that acts as the album's textural base. Almost immediately, Tin Man introduces an octave-jumping acid refrain. The four-bar loop reaches operatic heights of yearning. "Ode"'s rave stabs indicate this drama comes from the implacable notion of being alone in the crowd -- an emptiness which can remain long after it's disbanded. What comes when the dance is over?
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CD
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AT 004CD
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What does a rave sound like the next day? The strobe lights in a dark warehouse, the pounding kick, the blur of ecstatic faces lead to a morning-after emptiness, all fade into memories of the friends you once had. On Ode, Tin Man (proper name Johannes Auvinen) explores this feeling, offering tracks which possess an exhausted joy, the aural equivalent of the stretch of time beginning when the last record is played and stretching on towards the doleful contemplation of last night's unmade sheets. Appropriately, Tin Man's melancholic dance music is more club-ready than ever. The opening tracks explore the spacious atmosphere first proposed on Neo Neo Acid and the (recently-repressed) Acid Test 01 collaboration with Donato Dozzy. Auvinen continues to coax unique, bittersweet sounds out of the 303 -- his control is akin to a virtuosic Theremin-player, all dramatic lunges and dynamics. Yet on tracks like "Depleted Serotonin," the memories of half-remembered nights surface. That track reprises the minor-key rave breakdown, ending with nearly three-minutes of knackered techno throb. Similarly, "What a Shame" sounds like a forgotten Warp classic run through Tin Man's palette of tasteful reserve. Always conceptual, Tin Man is commenting on big-room techno music by presenting his thoughtful, hungover version of it. On "Vertigo," he reins in the acid box acrobatics -- opting instead for a rudimentary, early-Chicago style pattern, eventually following optimistic chords skyward. It's a simulacrum of that end-of-the-night moment when the music is so charged and utopic that all fatigue is forgotten. Auvinen's recognized talent to imbue machines with complex human emotion draws us into his world. With Tin Man's music, there is always something left unsaid -- he uses familiar elements yet his perspective remains singular and mysterious. Each dream-like track is another clue. He ends the set with the intensely dramatic "Memoraphilia" and "Ode." The former concludes on an ominous note with strings that evoke paranoia, yet this feeling, too, will pass. The final (and title) track begins with the Deepchord-level percussive filtering that acts as the album's textural base. Almost immediately, Tin Man introduces an octave-jumping acid refrain. The four-bar loop reaches operatic heights of yearning. "Ode"'s rave stabs indicate this drama comes from the implacable notion of being alone in the crowd -- an emptiness which can remain long after it's disbanded. What comes when the dance is over?
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