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A radical reinvention from one of Detroit techno’s most uncompromising figures
Alan Oldham’s transformation into THE BLACK WARHOLS isn’t cosmetic—it’s existential.
Everything here rejects the velocity and clarity that defined his DJ T-1000 output. The beats drag, dissolve, and fracture. Rhythms feel submerged. Melodies emerge only to collapse into vapor.
“Rock On” is a highlight precisely because of its improbability. Oldham transforms glam rock bravado into something haunted and introverted, echoing Massive Attack’s ability to turn pop into emotional architecture.
“Screengazer,” featuring Lee Margot, is another standout. Fragmented vocals drift through layers of fogged-out guitars and dub-processed percussion, evoking the digital alienation implied by its title.
Even moments of energy, like “Choke,” feel unstable, referencing electro-punk’s skeletal violence without fully committing to its catharsis.
THE BLACK WARHOLS thrives in ambiguity. It’s music about erosion—of identity, genre, and certainty.
Oldham hasn’t abandoned techno.
He’s escaped it.
