Review: PST: Kognitiv Discodans

"A celebration of dreamy, dubby house spiked with enough late night 
grime to muddy the sun shining through the windows at the afters."

For decades (!) now, Ulf Eriksson’s Kontra imprint has been championing producers of high-grade house music, and Porn Sword Tobacco’s (PST’s) Kognitiv Discodans EP fits that bill as comfortably as slipping into your favourite armchair after a third glass of red.

His fifth release on his Swedish compatriots label, the EP is a five track affirmation of everything good we’ve come to expect from artist and imprint alike; a celebration of dreamy, dubby house spiked with enough late night grime to muddy the sun shining through the windows at the afters.

Title track, Kognitiv Discodans, is a perfect encapsulation of PST’s approach. Opening with softly oscillating pads, hazy, sun-warped textures that seem to breathe and shift beneath the surface of a minimal rhythm section glides into earshot. Kick, clap, hat – that’s pretty much it. There’s no excess here and there is absolutely no need for it. Instead, the track leans into movement within the chords themselves, letting them shimmer and evolve in slow, patient cycles. Vocal samples remain distant, submerged in the shimmering heat haze of distortion.

PST displays true craftsmanship in the details: kicks briefly dropping out before returning to emphasise warmth; the introduction of a high, ringing synth line that cuts through the haze; the subtle filtering that gives each transition a sense of levitation. It’s sunset-on-the-beach music, yes, but pulled off with enough restraint to avoid slipping into cliché. Cuts and drops feel deeply satisfying, minimal tweaks of the mixing desk made to maximum effect.

Pst Kognitiv Discodans 2

Flöjten leans further into the weightless atmosphere aesthetic. Airy pads and gentle chord progressions carry the track, elements interweaving in a flowing arrangement, claps landing softly, keys drifting in and out of the mix. House that’s content to take its time.

Potwot shifts the energy slightly, picking up the pace with rapid hats and sharper, more insistent chord stabs. A fragmented vocal sample chatters away in the background, giving the track a sense of nervous momentum. Momentum that carries into Bag It, the shimmering chromatic surfaces of the previous tracks find themselves soiled with a little grit, a little sweat and spittle. Breathy vocal snippets and glitchy synth squiggles ride over a more driving rhythm, while a rising, pressure-cooker lead line pushes the track towards a near fever pitch.

By the time Rollin Credits arrives, the EP resolves in a wash of warm, closing-time euphoria. A slow, chugging groove underpins everything, with faint disco inflections sluicing through the mix. A burning, revolving disco ball of a track, it’s the sonic incarnation of those final moments on the floor stretching out just a little longer.