Connor Wrong – Chlorine

There’s an undercurrent in the underground scene that still knows how to gift us hidden treasures. Chlorine is one of them: the debut EP by Connor Wrong, a New York-based artist with mixes for Animalia and The Lot Radio already in their catalogue. Despite their young age, Connor shows a striking creative clarity and a refined stylistic sensibility. Their sound flows between progressive house, especially in its detailed sound design that at times echoes Roza Terenzi’s dreamlike detours, and ambient-tech, as in Medial Rey, where an arcane fusion unfolds. Tribal African chants, bursts of trumpet and sun-drenched percussion swirl together in a kind of tropical mysticism. Running through it all is a tight, intricate beat programming, and subwoofers that rattle the floor. These are club tools, yes, but their curious energy and eclectic palette make them just as vivid in more intimate, solitary spaces.

Timbral mutations are everywhere. On Crepuscolar, breakbeat patterns are haunted by spectral ancestral voices, shaped with trance-like tremolos. Yet the outcome is neither breakbeat nor trance. It’s something fresher, more ethereal, touched by delicate, celestial tones that lend a gentle glow, like a slice of new age riding a 4/4 pulse. Ante Meridium feels like an echo from the early 2000s, with mystic arpeggios that shimmer like half-remembered dreams. Post Namen races through hyperspeed UK bass territory, sketching new coordinates for the most adventurous dancefloors. The four spells Connor casts stretch from seven to nine minutes. Each piece unfolds like the ascent of a shamanic rite, a merging of ancient ritual and digital alchemy. Whether the kick is straight or sideways hardly matters. Whether the track obeys genre rules matters even less. Connor Wrong is an artist who follows intuition before tradition. And the result is magnetic, leaving us eager to hear what visions come next.