Autechre - Tri Repetae (2LP)

Tri Repetae arrived in 1995 on Warp Records, and even among Autechre’s famously future-facing catalogue it still feels singular. Rob Brown and Sean Booth had already carved out their own corner of UK electronic music, but this record sharpened the edges and turned the room lights down. It is machine music with a pulse, intricate yet physical, built from loops that grind and bloom until your ears start hearing shapes. Put it on good speakers and the details start to reveal themselves, tiny shivers of percussion tucked under thick chords, a low-end thrum that lands like passing freight.

The opening track, Dael, sets the terms. A dusty kick locks in and stays put, while a cloud of metallic tones keeps shifting around it, like a mobile spinning slowly in a draught. Clipper pushes deeper, shearing pads rubbing against a clipped rhythm, all grit and glow. Leterel is the moment that often surprises new listeners, its woozy harmony riding a loping beat that hints at hip hop roots without tipping into pastiche. Autechre are known for abstraction, but here their tunes are more like sculptures, rhythmic figures that gain character from wear and friction.

Eutow is the obvious entry point and remains a fan favourite for good reason. It has a marching insistence, every bar tightening the screw, and that rattling high-end chatter feels like a hi-hat turned into a swarm. It works in a club yet still rewards headphones, which is a neat trick. Overand closes the album in a long exhale, a slow-motion drift that feels earned after all the metal-on-metal pressure. Rsdio plays like a companion piece to Eutow, all piston kicks and smeared synth stabs, but with a more cryptic grin.

One of the curiosities around this record is how it was presented on different sides of the Atlantic. In the United States it was issued as Tri Repetae++, bundling the album with the Garbage and Anvil Vapre EPs from the same year. Those EPs are excellent, but the core LP stands on its own. The designers at The Designers Republic handled the artwork, as they often did for Warp in the 90s, and their stripped-back approach suits the sound. Little ornament, just the sense that the music is the system and the system runs deep.

It is tempting to talk gear with Autechre, but they have always steered the conversation away from specific boxes and toward process. You can hear that here, the way patterns evolve without obvious filter sweeps or breakdowns, as if the tracks are being grown rather than arranged. The density never feels flashy. Even at full tilt there is headroom, space for a ghost melody to step forward or for a drum tick to shift a few milliseconds and change the groove. That is why Tri Repetae vinyl pressings get a lot of love, because the physical format plays nicely with the record’s weight and texture.

If you are hunting Autechre vinyl, this is a pillar. It pops up in Melbourne record store racks, and it is an easy recommendation if you want to buy Autechre records online without overthinking where to start. Among Autechre albums on vinyl, Tri Repetae is the one that threads the needle between their early warmth and the more rigorous systems music that followed. It is not pop, and it is not trying to be beautiful in a tidy sense, yet there are moments that feel oddly tender. The short chord steps in Gnit, the blurred harmonics that flicker through Stud, these little gestures stick around after the sub has stopped rattling the windows.

The record’s standing has only grown, with critics and fans often pointing to it as a high point for mid 90s Warp. It still sounds fresh in part because so many later records borrowed its language. Heavy drums, corroded timbres, repetitive structures that transform slowly, it is a template that reduced a lot of dance music to essentials and then rebuilt it. If you are lining up a cart of vinyl records Australia wide, make room for Tri Repetae vinyl near the top. It is a cold classic that runs hot, a piece of electronic history that still feels like tomorrow arriving five minutes early.