Cataract

In 2014, Sam Shepherd penned a career-defining tune in minutes. “Nuits Sonores” was completed on a flight to Lyon's eponymous festival and it sounds as effortless as it apparently was, soaring towards the heavens without overboiling. That's one of Shepherd's two main modes – when he's not a jazz maker, he's a crack house and techno producer. (He also has a PhD in neuroscience and is a respected and adventurous selector behind the decks.) This other side of him has earned him notoriety from all corners of the music industry, culminating in Promiseshis 2021 partnership with Pharoah Sanders. More recently, he got it huge festival stages with crossover DJs like Caribou and Four Tet following them in their quests to break into the mainstream on their own terms. All these parts of Floating Points are connected, but not always obviously. Enter Cataractan album that reinforces Shepherd's club cunning with its tracks in the service of a single-minded mission: bliss on the dance floor.

The mood for Cataract kicked off 2022 with “Vocoder,” an industrial anthem to be submitted alongside 2019's “Nuits Sonores” and “LesAlpx.” “Vocoder (Club Mix)” opens the album in a raucous rush, gearing toward a breakdown chopped vocal samples pouring out like a load French fries from an inverted half. It's almost reckless by Floating Points standards, capturing that feeling when the strobes hit hard and you can't tell if the lights are coming your way or you're just more faded than you think.

The rough album is a direct follow-up to 2019's aggressive Crush. On this record, Shepherd showcased his new mastery of modular composition, creating waves of swell and distortion that fed into matching rhythms and unpredictable song structures—the result, he saidof opening huge spaces for the xx and wanting to provoke the audience with “chaotic” music. This time he's focused on getting people moving instead of confusing them. Cataract it's what happened when Shepherd couldn't tour at all, an exorcism of dancefloor impulses hampered by the pandemic and then nurtured by the return of DJ gigs. In the middle of recording, he left for the Southern California desert to write the score for a ballet, which he Cataract holidays and accounting all in one.

These tracks redirect the jazz vamp of classic records like Shadows on zig-zag trips, like those of the 90's screen saver mazes. The approach culminates in centerpiece “Fast Forward,” where frenzied cues wrap around each other like a Medusa's head whizzing by countermelodies and swelling textures. Melodies decay and detune in real time, highlighting Shepherd's handiwork—electronic music you can practically hear breathe, grow, and die. “Afflecks Palace” takes this idea and throws a whirlwind of conflicting emotions into it. A nostalgic trip through early IDM, acid house and jungle, it's languid and unpredictable, held together by a thin thread thanks to Shepherd's now considerable experience making this sort of thing on the fly.