Cloudwalker

Austrian producer Martin Haidinger—the man behind Gimmik, founder of the cult Toytronic label and one half of Abfahrt Hinwil—was there at the birth of 90s IDM, releasing a handful of beautifully skewed records before drifting from the spotlight. Cloudwalker, his first full-length in years and a welcome addition to the n5MD catalogue, finds him picking up exactly where he left off: 14 tracks of warm, melodic braindance that treats its machines as instruments of tenderness rather than complexity for its own sake. Already featured in A Closer Listen’s spring electronic preview, it arrives with the quiet fanfare the genre’s faithful have been waiting for.

The record opens in familiar territory. Short Wave Memories builds its six minutes around a shivering, looped melody and brittle, jazz-inflected percussion—the sort of track that rewards headphones and patience in equal measure. Propylenglycol follows, its synthetic string stabs and wobbling bassline leaning into the warmer, more analogue side of the sound. This is not the surgical, clinical IDM of reputation; it’s more curious and affectionate, the grooves human in their hesitations.

The highlights are scattered generously through the middle of the record. Patching Shadows laces a chiming lead over dusty breakbeats, whilst In My Family carries unexpected emotional weight, its soft pads and gentle chord changes sounding almost hymnal. Voltage Controlled Organisims—deliberately misspelt, in the grand IDM tradition—is a squelchy, playful little number whose acid line jolts the album awake, and Decay of a Ballblazer plays its reverb-drenched melody off a skipping rhythm to lovely, bittersweet effect.

Later, the record settles into contemplative drift. Sailing Everest is all slow-blooming pads, whilst All Around the Lake rolls on a gorgeous, unhurried chord sequence that ranks among the album’s finest moments. Even the minute-fifty shimmer of The Little Wave and the Sea earns its place, separating the two halves of the record with a breath. The title track Cloudwalker closes things with the album’s most expansive gesture—six minutes of slowly unfolding melody that feels like the whole record finally exhaling.

Cloudwalker doesn’t reinvent braindance, and it doesn’t need to. What Haidinger has made is a mature, confident return that prioritises feeling over flash: melodies that linger, drums that swing, and textures you want to live inside. For anyone who mourned the quiet disappearance of the Toytronic sound, this is a gentle, welcome homecoming.