Grain’s Untitled G2: A Techno Beast That Still Kicks Ass in 2023
Alright, let’s cut the crap. Grain’s Untitled G2 isn’t just another electronic album from the late '90s—it’s a raw, pulsating beast that slaps you awake and doesn’t let go. Released in 1999 via FatCat Records (yeah, those legends), this UK-born monster is all about techno and tribal vibes. It’s not perfect, but damn does it leave a mark.
Let’s dive straight into the tracks because nobody’s got time for fluff. First up: “Raply.” This one hits like a sledgehammer to the chest. The beat builds slow—too slow, almost teasing you—but then BOOM, it drops harder than your drunk mate at a house party. You can feel every kick drum rattling your ribs, and the layers of synths? Insane. Feels like someone took a dark warehouse rave and bottled its soul. If I close my eyes while listening, I’m back there—sweaty, disoriented, loving every second of it.
Then there’s “Untitled B1,” which is basically chaos with headphones on. It’s gritty as hell, man. The percussion sounds like broken glass being stomped on, but somehow it works. There’s this weird little melody loop halfway through that sneaks up on you, kinda haunting, kinda beautiful. And just when you think it’s gonna mellow out? Nope. Grain flips the script again, throwing in these industrial clangs that make your brain itch in the best way possible. Remember this track? Oh, you will.
Look, some people might call Untitled G2 repetitive or overly aggressive, but screw them. That’s what makes it so good. It’s unapologetic, raw, and refuses to hold your hand. Tracks like “Telephone Prank” and “Untitled A2” keep the energy high without ever feeling forced. Even the untitled stuff has personality leaking out of every crack.
Here’s the kicker though—this album doesn’t try to be anything other than itself. No fancy concepts, no overproduced nonsense. Just Grain doing his thing, carving out a slice of techno heaven—or maybe hell, depending on how you look at it. And honestly? That’s rare as hell nowadays.
So yeah, if you’re hunting for something that punches you in the face and drags you onto the dancefloor, Untitled G2 is your ticket. Weird flex, but listening to it feels like getting into a fight you didn’t start—but secretly kinda wanted. Go figure.
