Randolph & Mortimer
The Penultimate Truth
Surface Reality

We were fans of Sheffield instrumental EBM act Randolph & Mortimer’s The Incomplete Truth on release, and in retrospect the LP has had a remarkable sense of prescience; the dreamy trance, acid and classic techno sounds it hybridized are in ascent on modern dancefloors, meaning the record hasn’t lost relevance since it escaped into the world in 2023. The Penultimate Truth certainly drives the latter point home; a compilation of new and existing remixes from the album and various other singles and EPs, its wide range of styles and collaborators from across the electronic music spectrum speaks to Randy & Morts vitality and relevance.

First and foremost, there’s a considerable amount of dancefloor fodder here; those seeking dancefloor heaters will find them in the Mortal-Kombat-Kore of Alen Skanner’s take on “Solta No Caos” and the Semantix take on “Self-Medicator”, both of which hew close to the originals, but amp their DJ appeal by streamlining them to their bass and drums. There’s also a lot to be said for David Carretta’s remix of “Sermon 3”, a track R&M collaborated on with french producer ROÜGE, and that the former producer’s classic sense of how techno and body music interact with one another brings out a rougher, tougher angle on the smooth, speedy original.

The range of producers also points to the malleability of The Incomplete Truth‘s root sounds – the heavy-stepping thud of Kite and Mr. Monell’s mix of the title track extends directly from the roving moodiness of the original, but if you’ve been tracking Kite’s brooding dancefloor incursions at least since the V EP’s “I Can’t Stand” you’ll hear real kinship there as well. The sonic alterations of Brixx’s take on “Everything Was Forever” skew in the opposite direction, dropping the nodding rock kicks of the original for fluid early house ease, a milieu that both the Aussie producer and Randolph & Mortimer have proven to be equally comfortable within.

Often when we write about remix releases we get to gas on about hearing a particular artist’s aesthetic filtered through hitherto unimagined prisms or some such thanks to the range of remixers, but Randolph & Mortimer’s aesthetic is one that’s already so open-ended that it’s difficult to think of what would constitute a “radical reimagining” of it – each of these contributors are primed to mesh with Sam Evans’ all embracing approaches to dance music and do so handily here. The sound of Sheffield, amplified through global reinterpretations for another trying era.

Buy it.