Onandon

It's time to get your teenage kickdrums right through the night with the Little Lord Fauntleroy of electronica, Lukid. Weighing in with a debut album of epileptronica and hiccup-hop this prodigious talent from south London is so youthful, we've had to hastily cobble together a child protection policy just to release it. Sounding like the awkward teenage son of a civil partnership between Dabrye, Theo Parrish and Dougie Howser MD, Onandon is an unforgettable greatest hits collection of a misshapen teenage: replete with dusty loops, off-kilter riddims and unidentified clicky-clacky noises. While most teenagers struggle with cracking voices, strange bodily changes and the ever-present lure of guiltily beating themselves off to the lingerie section of the Argos catalogue, Lukid was stuck to his computer screen pleasuring himself in an entirely different manner. In fact, during sleepovers with his schoolmates, Lukid would arrive with a sampler discreetly tucked between the pages of his regulation copy of Escort, and would secretly sneak off to the toilets to edit together drum loops from obscure folk records while his friends played endless bouts of Extreme Soggy Biscuit. And while you might expect most young producers these days to be either knocking out tomytronic drill and bass or inane bop-a-long indie in regional accents, Lukid's voice is a far cry from the norm. There's a shocking maturity to the tracks which bely his youthfulness: like seeing a baby reciting Baudrillard or a chinchilla juggling swords. This is no freak sideshow for pimple-popping. Onandon is chock full of timeless instrumental slow-chug classics which might even have your Dad tapping his foot along to and remarking 'ooh, that's got a good beat.