Some records come as diary entries, others as manifestos. "Mutation", the new EP by Pyrame, feels like a telegram sent from a dimension where Berlin clubs and post-punk rehearsal basements share the same fluorescent light. It’s only six tracks long, but it unfolds like a whole novella about instability: technological, personal, planetary. Pyrame, a Swiss-born, Berlin-based artist, has long been orbiting between electro, new wave, and left-field pop; here he fuses those impulses into something more urgent, almost frantic, as though sound itself is mutating faster than the hands that shape it.

The title track, "Mutation", doesn’t so much begin as it lunges forward - sharp synth stabs, a pulse that flirts with menace, vocals half-spoken like someone reading coordinates while the ship is already falling apart. It’s not a dancefloor filler in the usual sense, more a pressure chamber: the groove insists, but the air feels thin. Then comes "Hyperspace of Dimension 7", the kind of title that could only belong to someone knowingly poking fun at cosmic excess while secretly loving it. The track itself leans heavier into psychedelic electro, basslines stretching out like neon highways, melodies flickering with sci-fi melancholy.

Where Pyrame’s originals set the stage, the remixes turn the kaleidoscope. H.L.M. presses "Mutation" into sleeker, club-ready form - less jagged, more streamlined, like the mutant has been taught to dance. Oltrefuturo contributes not one but two re-imaginations of "Hyperspace": the “Voce Dimensionale Mix” adds vocal textures that make it feel like an alien transmission, while the “Trance-A-Lento Mix” slows the rush into something hypnotic, meditative, almost devotional. Acid Washed, meanwhile, take the same source material and inject it with their trademark blend of slick retro-futurism, landing somewhere between Italo disco fever dream and cybernetic elegy.

Together, the EP feels less like a collection of remixes and more like a philosophical exercise: how many shapes can one idea take before it ceases to be itself? Pyrame seems aware of the irony - he speaks of a world mutating too fast to follow, yet the music insists on repetition, revisitation, re-rendering. The result is oddly comforting: yes, things mutate, but they also return, echo, refract, as if reminding us that change is not erasure but a different kind of persistence.

"Mutation" may not answer the riddle of “Dimension 7” (if such a place exists), but it does what good electronic records often do: it proposes a temporary cosmology, a set of rules by which rhythm and tone rearrange the chaos into something momentarily livable. And if the ship still crashes, at least it does so with style, distortion, and a sense of humour.