Nullptr - Terminus

Nullptr never fails. Since emerging in 2016 with the Optical LP, Eddie Symons' project has become a byword for top-draw contemporary electro productions. After triumphantly returning to Sheffield's Central Processing Unit with 2020's Future World full-length, Nullptr follows that album up with a new quartet of machine-funk slammers. Striking a balance between high wire, twitchy rhythm programming and some deft textural work, the Terminus EP demonstrates exactly why the Nullptr name is so respected in the world of electro. The first half here almost showcases the two sides of the Nullptr sound in microcosm. Opening track 'Connected' zips along like one of the racers from a Wip3out game. The 808s are all booming breakbeats and hissing-piston hats, with a jittery synth bassline nipping in and out of the spaces left vacant by the drums. Atop these swirl eerie keyboard pads, the reverb from them draping across the rest of the instruments like fog above a city. By contrast, following cut 'Mesospheric Cruise' is the yin to 'Connected's yang. Where it's predecessor was tense and coiled, this lilting number is expansive and open like a primetime Virginia joint - though the point where the wistful house pads strip back to foreground the twinkle-toed electro beat still has a pleasing crunch to it. The B-side of Terminus serves dystopian snap from the off. Genre masters Drexciya are invoked by 'Syndicate'. The needle-gun bassline here turns itself inside-out across these five minutes, and all the while the tune is laced with some evocative shadow-realm synth pads. A similar energy courses through the EP's closing title-track, a cut which also brings into play a booming four-to-the-flour that gives it an unstoppable sense of forward-motion. Like 'Connected' and 'Mesospheric Cruise' - indeed, like all of the Nullptr material that Central Processing Unit has brought us down the years - these jams will sound positively devilish when deployed in a dark basement. The 'Terminus' EP sees electro don Nullptr (Eddie Symons) deliver four slices of unadulterated machine-funk heat.