In short, Stott doesn't sound like anyone else precisely because his aural vision sounds so singularly wrong. His work is off-kilter, erratic, and unpredictable in all of the most startling ways. Stott's tracks are baptised in a river of unrestrained distortion and acoustic artifacts in a manner which feels so unsustainable but sound so conceptually distinct; glass cannons that threaten to fall apart at any moment, but never do.
When surveying Andy Stott's musical trajectory, 2012's Luxury Problems stands like a monolith. With the masterful manipulation of his one-time piano teacher Alison Skidmore's vocals, Stott introduced the dangers of the heart into his bassed-out, inverted club bangers. While that human element has proved undeniable -- Skidmore has been present on every Stott full-length since -- it is all too easy to mistake the appearance of vocals as some singular watershed moment in Stott's artistic development.
A decade ago, the Manchester-based electronic musician Andy Stott extinguished the dub-techno torch he'd been carrying for Basic Channel and plunged into some lightless place where all the usual values got switched around. From that murk, he retrieved a pair of acclaimed short albums, Passed Me By and We Stay Together, which set his course for the next 10 years. What had been fast would be slow, what had been trim would be mussed, and what had been roomy would be cramped.