1979

Two years after he first appeared on Balmat with 1977, Mike Paradinas returns with 1979. The sense of continuity between the two records is clear, and not just from their titles. Both capture the Planet Mu head venturing into the wilderness, seeking something—half-formed memories, thoughts caught in midair—in some of the most abstract, searching music he has released.

Just like 1977, 1979 surveys a synth-heavy array of ethereal soundscapes, ominous crevasses, and strange, psychedelic fugues. Like its predecessor, the new album’s atmospheric cast sets it apart from much of the work Paradinas has released as μ-Ziq on Planet Mu. It’s not strictly an ambient record, but it’s close, as close as this famously mutable artist ever comes to inhabiting a particular genre.

Paradinas’ inspiration for the record began on visits to the Spanish cities of Ávila and Majadahona, where his family hails from. That might account for the sense that there are spirits flitting through this music, presences you can intuit if not quite grasp. But 1979 is also a record to meet on your own terms, and to find your own meanings in.

It’s a stunning record, every track a world unto itself: the mysterious contours of “Majadahonda at Dawn”; the playful melodic fillips of “Clari”; the airy melancholy of “Galletas”; the full-scale breakbeat abandon (yes, you read that right) of “Houzz 14,” the rarest of dancefloor detours for Balmat. There are echoes of classic braindance and isolationist ambient and golden-age IDM; there are easter eggs and recurring themes and hidden symmetries. Every time we listen, we discover something new. Despite what the title might suggest, it’s less a trip back in time than a portal to another universe, a destination for(to?) which only Mike Paradinas knows the exact coordinates