"Pintai One is a stellar compilation for a cup of tea and a long stare out the window. And for well-chosen moments in the club."
The Pintai collective, since their conception in 2023, has been steadily accruing a reputation for putting on impeccably tasteful club nights, alongside a catalogue of music on their own imprint. In the spirit of quality over quantity, this output has been considered, just the four releases over the two years since they released their first various artists EP.
Now, that journey has culminated in the release of a collaborative LP, which invites many of the names associated with Pintai’s events to curate a physical artefact that encapsulates the warm, wholesome spirit that the collective has built with such care.
It seems apt then, that Pintai One opens with Karla Bohm’s Claire Shazam, droney pads and a hesitant kick gradually adopting into their sphere some shimmering metallic synths, rattling snares and a stoned, breaksy rhythm. Some old-school synth work chips out a bubbly little melody, there’s something almost innocently naive about it – the sound of 90s technological optimism, when glowing screens and synthetic worlds still seemed to promise something genuinely new. So it’s an appropriate opener, because of that nostalgic, VHS-warm sort of start.
Marie Lung’s Her Reflection heads somewhere more club-focused, beginning with a simple kick and hat beneath a fidgety little synth motif. After a miniature build – swinging subs, rushing hats, reverby shaker hit – they all tumble into place and suddenly it’s a proper toasty groover. Discordant pads fill out the space, while that initial synth remains fixed at the centre, giving the track its hypnotic pull. A female vocal marks the break before everything comes rolling back in alongside a growling little chord stab. Dubby goodness all round.
On B.E, Tibi Dabo provides something a little more muscular, complementing a plucky bassline with heavy kicks and crisp hats. Glitchy vocal snippets and synths flicker at the hazy peripheries, rolling toms and string-like swells broaden the horizon. In the break a dramatic sustained vocal hangs amid warped white noise and distortion, before bass, kick and hats snap back into place, with all those trippy little elements left curtain twitching.
With the first flip comes Martinou, and the king of pads is at his predictably majestic best. Stride True is yet another exercise in deep techno/heart-string tugging electronics. With rolling deep kicks, rushing hats and twisting, curling synths sat beneath those ubiquitous rising chord swells, there’s that ever-present gentle, epic beauty to the track, kept honest and propulsive thanks to a pulsing high piano note. Trancey strings arrive through the break, but what feels so remarkable about Martinou is his ability to build layer after layer of tension, atmosphere and harmony without ever overcrowding those mids. Everything just has room to soar, and take the listener with it. A track of gorgeous development for peak-time, eyes-closed, blissed-out, washed-over listening.
Alex Albrecht’s Too Much Traffic brings us back to more dubby territory, injected with what I guess you could call a tech-house-y rhythm, whatever it is it’s driving and danceable. Distant, reverb-drenched keys lend a nice wistful note while delayed chord stabs and drifting pads all dissolve into one another, suspended above a bouncy low end. Those subs are lovely, giving the track real drive while subtle rhythmic changes and the flickering appearance and disappearance of various elements keep things intricate and evolving from bar to bar. One to dissolve to, in pulsing waves of shining particles. Maybe.
Following this, Italian duo Orion strip things back on Horne, a track where tape hiss, dreamy keys and a lofi-y kick abound. These hazy elements are joined by soft synth washes, a simple hat and a sparing couple of bass notes, nudging their way into the track every 16 bars or so, and all the more impactful for their absence. A distant phone rings out, and what I’m pretty sure is a Twin Peaks sample provides the emotional core. It has that distinctly mid-2010s lofi feel, but its strength is its restraint and the restraint is refreshing. It stops the track drifting into the cheese territory that so many from that era got stuck in.
The edges are sharpened a little on Telfort’s Proceedings. There are more swirling almost-piano chords but they’re cut through by a crisp kick, hat and clap, all before a warm bassline and another, this time 4/4, hat settles the track into motion. Again, everything operates in warm tones and gentle turns, a ringing shaker rhythm here, extra ride or cymbal there, a steady stream of small additions nudging the groove forward. Sunset on the beach tackle.
Trebbiantico begins its life in a rain of swinging percs through a washed-out layer of static, injected with some sparkly synthy bits, tonal snare bops, subby business and lofi hats. A big-heavy-minimal-roller, to start with. But halfway through, soft chord progressions begin to creep into view, creating a lovely juxtaposition with the weighty percussion led structure. Slowly they become the focus, joined by delicate falling chime melodies until the tracks morphed into something entirely new. Here, Carebears deliver one of the compilation’s most subtle builders, willing to wait for its beauty to reveal itself.
That patience and restraint is evident on the closer, brought to you courtesy of label co-founder Hame. On Not So Broken, we get that intricately sequenced percussion we come by now to expect, and which adds a flavour around the 4/4 framework. Enjoy a pleasure trip consisting of a flow of constant soft rides, crisp hats, tiny rhythmic details, all while pads and chord sequences bloom overhead, falling unresolved into one another. Some eventually settle into sustained drones, offering a constant colour while the harmony continues shifting through different airy tones. Vocal fragments float through, a stabby sub arrives underneath, and increasingly vaporous, vocoder-like textures add to the warm, heady atmosphere.
Then a wriggling little acid line appears atop all that softness. During the break it takes centre stage, gently pulling the mood somewhere twitchier, before, predictably but very happily, those pads come flooding back in. It’s welcoming, warm, danceable, the sweet spot you want to exist and stay in, basically.
That feeling runs throughout Pintai One. It is warm, inviting music, music imbued with a bit of a sense of aching, but fuzzy and cosy nostalgia. VHS tones, soft-focus percussion, grainy camcorder textures and PS2 startup screen pads, a dip into Pintai One feels like a very specific shared experience of that cosiness.
Perhaps that is what Pintai does particularly well. Pintai is a wholesome record label and get-together, a welcome throwback to simpler times, and the tracks draw from old house, techno, tech-house, trance, breakbeat and the lofi scenes. But they’re refreshed, familiar sounds becoming a shared vocabulary for escapism, music that feels remembered even when you’re hearing it for the first time, Pintai One is a stellar compilation for a cup of tea and a long stare out the window. And for well-chosen moments in the club.
‘Pintai One’ is out now via Pintai. Listen to and buy a vinyl copy from Inverted Audio Record Store.
TRACKLIST
A1. Karla Bohm – Claire Shazam
A2. Marie Lung – Her Reflection
A3. Tibi Dabo – B.E
B1. Alex Albrecht – Too Much Traffic
B2. Martinou – Stride True
C1. Orion – Horne
C2. Telfort – Proceedings
D1. Carebears – Trebbiantico
D2. Hame – Not So Broken