Glenn Morrison, Prango / Over My Head

Glenn Morrison drops a rare double-sided single, ‘Prango / Over My Head’, released February 27th on Fall From Grace Records.

It’s a two tracker, no remixes, two actual original songs, that’s rare enough these days that I almost want to cover it for that alone. But I’ll take ‘Prango’, I like where it sits, kind of a comedown-adjacent thing, patient without being boring.

It rolls out slowly, a soft pulse underneath, then a synth line that feels like it’s been waiting all night to speak. Morrison doesn’t rush it. The kick stays warm, the hats are tucked in, and the melody does the talking. By the time the breakdown opens up, you’re already in it, swaying, eyes half closed, that moment where the room feels like a slow exhale.

Glenn Morrison has been doing this for a long time, and it shows. He knows how to make a track that breathes. It feels like a good way to end the season, one from each of us, like the Jeremy Olander thing.

apologies if this one reads a little scattered, i'm writing it from an apartment that is currently ninety percent cardboard box, movers came through this weekend and i have not fully located my brain yet.

over my head is a track that doesn't ask for permission to float. it opens on a cool, patient pulse, the kind of loop that feels like standing at the edge of a very calm sea. the chord work hangs in the air like humidity, and morrison lets each element breathe with a restraint that borders on hypnotic. a stately vocal, distant and processed, repeats the title phrase as if it's the last thing you'll remember before the club closes. the drums arrive soft, cushioned, almost apologetic, but they hold the whole structure together with quiet authority.

this isn't a peak time stomper. it's the record that clears the room of chatter, the one that pulls the crowd closer to the booth, the one that makes people close their eyes. the arrangement is sparse to the point of vulnerability, a few keys, a low sub, that voice, and space. so much space. it's a masterclass in negative space, a reminder that techno can be just as powerful in its silences as in its drops. if you're looking for a weapon, this isn't it.