Artist portrait on Rhapsody

To call something "unclassifiable" is the oldest trick in the artistic playbook -- and it's an even hoarier cliche in electronic music, which derives so much of its energy from classifications. But the U.K.'s Mike Monday has actually earned the tag. His productions -- for labels like Great Stuff, Freerange, Playtime and Om -- are all over the stylistic map, folding together elements of chunky tech-house, breakbeats, disco and deep techno; he's not afraid to foray into dubstep or Crayola-rubbed drum 'n' bass, nor to drop a long spoken- word sample from a certain Man in Black. What ties his music together is attention to detail -- every one of his sounds, from a sax bleat to an acid squelch, seems like the only sound possible in the moment it rings out -- and the ever-present element of surprise. And refreshingly, for an artist who ranges so widely, Monday's work never feels cluttered or willfully "eclectic." (He's even in the habit of producing lean, slightly deranged dub versions of his singles, revealing an unexpected dancefloor purism lurking beneath his just-for- a-lark attitude.) By turns goofy and gorgeous, his music is sure to bring a smile to your face (and a swivel to your waist).

And a review of Songs without Words (also Rhapsody).

Mike Monday's second album feels almost like a sampler of the best electronica circa 2008 -- you've got subaqueous dubstep ("Grace"), polychromatic minimal house ("Through the Keyhole"), spring-loaded neo- acid house ("Salieri Complex") and, for good measure, wonky, lopsided funk detours that sound like parade horns coming off a weekend bender. No matter how many styles Monday ropes in, he always sounds 100% himself; for all his tempo changes, the album works as a singular mood piece. This wordless set speaks volumes: it's a box full of boxes of surprises, stacked Russian-doll style.