The Jean-Marc Lederman Experience returns with a new set of material. The theme, this time, is a throwback to the synthetic sounds of Lederman’s formative years.
Lederman escaped Brussels and Digital Dance at the beginning of the 1980s with Phil Wauquaire. The two met up with Frank Tovey, at Daniel Miller‘s suggestion, and became the original backing band for Fad Gadget. That freed up Tovey to get more physical on stage, which often led to broken bones and bruises while the Belgians took refuge behind their synths. After a short European tour and a period of recovery, Fad moved to his next stage with a new band.
Lederman, in turn, moved on to Kid Montana; combining trendy shirts and solid beats with a persistent sense of humour. More commercial material followed, using a similar formula: The Weathermen, a collaboration with Bruce Geduldig of Tuxedomoon, skewered alternative pop with tongues firmly planted in cheeks. Across all of his projects, Lederman has maintained a distinct sense of levity, no matter how heavy the grooves.
Which brings us to Electronic Slipper Music. With lyrics written by Emileigh Rohn (Chiasm) and Jacques Duvall (of “Banana Split” fame), the album maintains Lederman’s penchant for collaboration. With its retro-electronic feel, it is a nostalgic trip into the modular and single-oscillator sounds of Lederman’s early forays into music.
“Last night, I saw the ghost of Alan Vega,” he intones over a track infused with the style of Suicide. Lederman doesn’t often sing on his own songs; but that is a pity, as he conveys a subtly comedic element that carries the theme.
On “False Start,” the beats are wrought from iron, but there is no let-up in the hints at levity. Electronic Slipper Music sounds ridiculous as a title, but Lederman’s humour is entirely self-depracating.
Overall, the album succeeds in its references to the late 70s and early 80s, despite being made using very modern equipment (Ed: Now that is ironic, Alanis Morrissette). It is also hugely entertaining.
The full album is out in physical and digital formats on 31 August 2025.

Fryer’s work attracted the attention of Trent Reznor, who picked him out for production work on Pretty Hate Machine, the album that launched Nine Inch Nails. Other artists followed, from Vancouver’s Moev (who spawned the Nettwerk label, home to Skinny Puppy and Sarah McLachlan) to Sweden’s Ashbury Heights, looking for a touch of the studio magic that had made Fryer’s previous work so successful.


The first band on stage at TEC003 were among those fascinated by the mystique of early 80s Basildon. Speak & Spell have established themselves as the fans’ favourite Depeche Mode cover act, devoting themselves to faithfully playing the classic songs from the band’s seminal first album. Most of them have been dropped from Depeche Mode’s live set over time, but there is still enormous interest in the songs on Stumm 5. One of the accomplishments of Speak & Spell is to recreate many of the original instrument sounds, so that “Big Muff” sounds headily like it did in 1981; another is to base their stage show on live performance, replicating the experience of an early Depeche Mode show. Their inspiration is clearly drawn as much from the bootlegs of early Depeche gigs as from the recordings made at Blackwing Studios, and they get knowing cheers from the crowd for their version of unrecorded track, “Television Set.”
DJ Sarah Blackwood took over the sound system between sets, deploying an arsenal of heavy duty beats that hit the high notes of 1980s electronics. Simple Minds’ “I Travel” filled the room with rhythm, and a seamless mix of Fad Gadget’s “Lady Shave” with Les Liaisons Dangereuses’ “Los Ninos del Parque” was a revelation. A singing set followed, with performances of Blackwood classics, including Dubstar’s “Not So Manic Now” and Client’s “Price of Love.” Blackwood’s voice is as distinctive and classy as ever, as she recently demonstrated on Fotonovela’s A Ton of Love album, and she easily charms the (speak and) spell-struck audience. Later in the evening, Blackwood would go on to perform a storming version of Depeche Mode’s “A Question of Time,” ensuring that every melodic base has been hit solidly.
Live electronics can be a difficult beast to tame, but Vile Electrodes are capable disciplinarians. Their searing show depends on the flow of electrons through a seemingly endless tangle of wires, but every plug has been checked, tested and tested again; the ambience of the room has been measured; the positioning of each element carefully assessed. It is difficult to name another act that places so much reliance on temperamental hardware and carries off their show with as much professionalism. When they take to the stage, it is like watching a Tesla coil unleashed at its highest setting; but, instead of lab coats, its operators wear electric blue suits or latex skirts.
The Future Through a Lens was one of the top releases of 2013, and it is played through at TEC003 with a new running order but all of the creative power of the album. The central shopping precinct of Hertford shakes to “Empire of Wolves” and “Damaged Software,” marvels at the grandeur of “Proximity” and finally has its heart torn open by “Deep Red.” Anais Neon’s vocals sound extraordinary, marking her out as the Debbie Harry of the new generation of poptronica artists, while Martin Swan teases pulses from his keyboards and hammers drum pads with abandon. The Vile ones are sitting on top of a dynamo, and the ride is breath-taking. They are at the pinnacle of British poptronica, and at TEC003 there are a lot of happy Sherpas.