Maelstrom returns to Central Processing Unit for the fourth time, and it’s the one born Joan-Mael Péneau’s lengthiest drop on the Sheffield label yet. The French artist has been a mainstay in the European electro game since the 2000s, and Malestrom brings that experience to bear on new LP The FM Tapes. He goes about this album with the assurance of a seasoned pro, combining his mastery of electro production techniques with a trademark guile to craft an expertly-paced eleven-track affair. The first section of The FM Tapes sets out the album’s stall with style and aplomb – listeners are in store for a rich feast of off-kilter machine-funk which will feature no shortage of intriguing detours. On opener ‘Ondes Courtes’ the mix throbs with all manner of strange electronic gristle: a distorted bass hum rattles the monitors; wisps of distortion float across the mix; eerily pretty keys wax and wane before giving way to a radar pulse. ‘Ondes Courtes’ is an ominous slouch of a scene-setter, and it lines things up perfectly for following cut ‘Alt50ser’ to lock in. This track’s churning, gurgling mid-tempo rattle brings to mind the wacky insistence of Modeselektor. Maelstrom repeats the slow-fast one-two again directly afterwards – ‘La Vie Sociale Des’, a strange nugget that sounds like an early Eski instrumental stripped for parts and blasted into the cosmos, is an ideal prelude to the twitchy space-funk of ‘My Digitone’. Maelstrom’s staying power in the electro world comes, in no small part, from his ability to apply his delightfully idiosyncratic choices to some of the genre’s staple production tropes. On The FM Tapes, he marks himself out once more as a pleasingly unorthodox talent by taking tracks in unexpected directions to produce surprising – and often rather moving – results.