Sunday Morning Medicine Vol 157, with Duskus, Boston Bun, ATTLAS, + more

Sunday Morning Medicine Vol 157, with Duskus, Boston Bun, ATTLAS, + moreSmm@0.

Sunday Morning Medicine is a feature from Dancing Astronaut dedicated to the mellower side of electronic music. We bring you our favorite therapeutic selections—old and new—in attempts to alleviate the agonizing effects of a long weekend of partying.




Lane 8/This Never Happened young gun, Anderholm, is first on the scene with his mellifluous chord progressions and clattering percussion to rouse the sleepiest listener from the worst alcohol-induced slumber. “Timecode”‘s subtle splendor is like a gentle reminder to reacquaint oneself with the universe.

The San Holo-housed, Duskus‘s most recent single, “Where To Go,” has the technicolor tenderness to make your Sunday morning neuroticism cower in its tracks. One rendezvous with the track’s minimal magic—led by simple, saccharine vocal intonations and a deliberate, ardent beat—counts as full weekend’s act of contrition.



Parisian house project, Boston Bun, knows how to not only pull, but full-on yank on the heart strings. “Missing You” exemplifies the Ed Banger producer’s ability to make poignancy feel like ecstasy—which is unanimously at least mildly applicable for some good-old-fashioned requiem for the weekend.


Anjunadeep duo, Eli & Fur, can leave any purposeful listener in utter awe, bringing emotive, cinematic tension to each and every record they let loose in the oh-so-saturated blogosphere. Rodriguez Jr. recently got his hands on “Night Blooming Jasmine,” and even Eli & Fur took a liking to the outcome, bolstering the rework in their sets as of late. The newfangled rendition offers fluttering synth-patterns and the original’s hazy, incantation-like vocalizing, in remembrance of that hazy, sublime figure from the club last night who scampered off just before you could catch her name.



ATTLAS‘s new mau5trap EP, Charcoal Halo, acts as a vessel for listener’s to reconnect with both themselves and the boundless latent energy around them. “Coldest Night,” with its slow-burn breakbeat and blissfully despondent vocals, is like a rhapsodic snapshot of listeners’ end-of-weekend contempt.

Source: dancingastronaut.com

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