A banal snapshot of an overcast Devon seashore from behind a drab mobile unit isn’t the immediate creative direction one thinks of when considering crunchy industrial new beat, but intriguing thematic schisms of cutting-edge electronic music alongside a perennial focus on the South West’s culture and folklore at its most affectionately moribund (as captured by John Strover’s artwork for Grockle Vision) permeate throughout the shadowy cabal of artists that operate in the Bristol music underground, from Kelan‘s flag ripping videos in Barry Island to Avon Terror Corp’s Goram stone head that serves as their mascot.

Grockle Vision (the second offering from Noods Radio offshoot Dummy Hands after dj_2button’s Transient Communications) is the latest release from Yokel, one of the many aliases and projects behind long-standing Avon-garde stalwart Matt Light. Founder of experimental label Plaque and Slack Alice DJs member, Yokel lifts himself out of the arcane murk of 2020’s Smell of Deer in favour of taut EBM skulks and machine punk beats that somehow effortlessly scores the seaside desolation that adorns its cover.

Caustic basslines and limber minimalism have rarely sounded so muscular and lissome. Album opener ‘A.S.V. (At Surrey Vaults)’ (first heard on Slack Alice’s fifth birthday compilation) honours Bristol’s musical lore with a near two minutes of some of the most head-slamming, primordial techno you’ve ever heard. Brawny synths jerk and pulse like streaky veins hit with amphetamines, its combative flaunt teaming with such physiological heft you taste sweat and panic in its urgent strut. ‘Salaryman’ borrows early Front 242’s commando synths with a robot groove that would stand among any of their Wax Trax! efforts, and Light’s deft hand at bruising production crush with vigour on ‘Getaway Scene (Escape From Zoggs)’ a nod to Noods’ much-loved bar Mickey Zoggs charged with propulsive beats and throbbing sequencers that intermingle infectiously with a character all on its own.

Exmouth Beach’s grey skies hover listlessly across Grockle Vision, imbuing the otherwise razor-sting techno with brittle haunts of spectral vocal samples and DIY hiss. The gurgling lurk of ‘Born Sloppy’ evoke a subtle sensory wander through faded seaside environs and tatty pier hangover, distant gulls and brontide braying presents the resort town through the eyes of its locals, the track’s menacing sparsity illustrating the incoming ‘grockles’ (a disparaging term used by Devonians for the invasion of holidaying outsiders) met with suspicion and fatigue. The album ends on a welcome change of pace with the languid shuffle of ‘— (Dub Mix)’, a heady and introspective ripple of resonant synths and stirring keys that instils a delicate sense of drama after the record’s preceding sonic assault, hinting at Light’s long-rumoured disparate body of work that’s yet to see the light of day.

The thriving Avon subterranean continues to conjure fantastic pieces of work that truly innovate and feel like relics sent from the future via some strange time-warp continuum. With Grockle Vision, Yokel delivers a thrillingly gripping trip of ice-cool industrial that darts between ructious electronica and hazy hypnagogia like an Exmouth seagull searching for discarded chips, providing another reason why every intrepid and curious music explorer should have all eyes on Bristol.