Actress - LXXXVIII (2LP) - Blue Vinyl

Actress has always loved a good riddle, and LXXXVIII is another one worth getting lost in. Released on Ninja Tune in November 2023, it lands like a late message from a dim booth at a long night, equal parts smoke and flicker. Darren Cunningham has worked this terrain for years, from Splazsh and R.I.P to Ghettoville, AZD, and Karma & Desire, but the mood here feels freshly dialed in. The title reads as 88 in Roman numerals, and the record leans into a game motif that keeps resurfacing as you listen. Chess coordinates show up in the track listing, melodies seem to move like pieces across a board, and the tension builds in small, precise steps. It also happens to be the number of keys on a piano, which suits an album that threads its rhythm science with ghosted harmonic phrases.

“Push Power ( a 1 )” set the tone ahead of the release, and it still does. The kick lands with a steady, boxy punch, but the interest lives in what creeps around it, a haze of detuned synths and clipped voices that feel half-remembered. That push-and-pull runs through the album. “Game Over ( e 1 )” is even starker, a piece you might think was skeletal until a new layer slides in and the whole thing tilts. Nothing rushes. He lets friction do the work, so small timbral shifts feel like big moves. It is club music if you squint, though the real club might be the space between your ears at 2 a.m.

What makes LXXXVIII sing is how tactile it is. You can feel the rough edge of the hats, the rubber in the bass, little clicks that behave like room sounds rather than gridlocked percussion. That ear for texture has always been a Cunningham signature, but here he pares back without drying out. The influence of his more orchestral side work lingers in the way chords bloom, then evaporate before you can grab them. He has said in interviews over the years that he treats the studio like a laboratory, and the approach still fits. You sense decisions made by touch, not by rule, which is why a single lodged bass note can feel as dramatic as a chorus drop.

For anyone who came up on Splazsh, there are friendly echoes, and yet LXXXVIII doesn’t read as a return. The harmonic language is warmer than the metallic futurism of AZD, and less bruised than Ghettoville. It chases a hush rather than a void. If Karma & Desire flirted with melancholy R&B shapes, this one seems to breathe in and out around them, giving you outlines and smudges where others would draw bold lines. The sequencing helps. Tracks speak to each other in near-whispers, the way a series of feints can decide a match more than one flashy gambit.

On wax, this world gets even deeper. The low end likes the extra space and the air in the high mids comes through nicely, which makes LXXXVIII vinyl easy to recommend. Actress vinyl tends to reward volume and patience, and this pressing is no different, a fine companion to a quiet room and good speakers. If you’re crate digging in a Melbourne record store or scrolling through vinyl records Australia listings, it is the kind of sleeve you clock, then come back to after a second lap. And for anyone looking to buy Actress records online, this is a safe bet, both for fans and for listeners who only know the name from whispered praise.

Critical ears took notice when it dropped. Coverage across outlets like Pitchfork, The Guardian, and Resident Advisor zeroed in on the album’s restraint and atmosphere, how it sets its own pace and keeps it. That feels right. LXXXVIII does not chase a hook so much as a presence. The melodies show up as hints or stains, the rhythms keep their shoulders low, and then a tiny turn of phrase pulls you under. You could drop a needle anywhere and hear the craft in the negative space.

If you are collecting Actress albums on vinyl, this one slides in neatly alongside the landmarks and holds its own. It feels lived-in on first play, then starts handing you small gifts on the fifth. There is patience here, and humility, and a quiet confidence that comes from a producer who trusts his instincts. The pieces move, the clock ticks softly, and the board never looks the same twice.