Patche, this local Montreal five-piece collective—Eliott Durocher Bundock (modular synth and drum machine), Étienne Dupré (bass), Lévy Bourbonnais (harmonica and sound manipulation), Mandela Coupal-Dalgleish (drums), and JB Pinard (modular synth)—has crafted something genuinely distinctive: techno that feels both cerebral and viscerally physical. Mode has this refusal to it; a refusal to follow the predictable build-drop formula that plagues so much club music. Instead, these nine tracks unfold with patience and purpose, weaving hypnotic patterns that reward deep listening while wanting to absolutely destroy dancefloors.
The production is immaculate—crisp, driving percussion sits perfectly alongside dubbed-out atmospherics and unexpected textural flourishes that keep you locked in from first kick to final fade. You can’t ignore the bat shit drumming on “Influence,” or the 3 AM crowd daze of “Dupré’s Paradise.”
Mode is full for those moments when a set transcends simple entertainment and becomes something transportive. The album works equally well through headphones on a late-night walk through the city as it does thundering through a proper sound system in a darkened club. It’s rare to find electronic music that operates on both levels with such confidence.
Patche has delivered an album that feels essential for anyone serious about contemporary, or let’s call it experimental techno. It’s club-ready and reminds you why you’re drawn to electronic music in the first place; euphoria.
