sorbitol drops: Glitch Groves and Lo-Fi Lifeforms
G&P Always Finds the Odd Ones
Label: Gin&Platonic
Released: August 2024
Format: Digital (Bandcamp)
🎧 Listen / Buy on Bandcamp →
If you’ve been following Gin&Platonic for a minute, you know they have a taste for the beautifully strange- pulling in experimental artists who never quite fall into a single category. Their catalog feels curated like a gallery wall made of circuit-bent walkmans, field recordings from nowhere, and some genuinely weird MIDI ghosts. There’s usually a lot of texture, a bit of humor, and an unshakable sense that every release is trying to bend sound in a new way, not just impress with complexity.
That’s what makes Remízek Music by sorbitol drops such a perfect fit. It came out back in August 2024, but honestly? Still sounds completely fresh. This one’s not trying to be timeless, it just is, because it exists in its own little bent-up biome.
First Impressions: Fragmented but Fully Intentional
This album grabbed my ear right away: not just because it’s experimental, but because it’s unapologetically experimental. It’s messy on purpose. Drums and percussions roll in and out like they’ve been jarbled through some hyperactive tape loop clicks, clacks, glitched tension everywhere. Tracks don’t feel sequenced to flow traditionally, but somehow, the whole thing still feels purposeful. Like Antonín Závodný (aka sorbitol drops) knew exactly what he wanted to say and let the form follow the feeling.
The opener sets the tone: this isn’t a smooth ride. There’s no clear rhythm to latch onto, no beat drops or melodic hooks, just a shifting soundscape that constantly mutates underfoot. In the best way. The FX design and sound placement are top-notch, and there’s this playful curiosity that runs through every track. You can tell he’s just playing with sound here, not showing off, just exploring.
Sparse but Smart Sound Design
What really works on Remízek Music is how little it needs to do a lot. The compositions aren’t layered to the ceiling with samples. Instead, he keeps things simple, clean, clever decisions. Everything has space to breathe. You’re not overwhelmed, but you’re never bored.
The fifth track features Ursula Sereghy dropping in with subtle “ahh”-style vocals, which almost tricks you into thinking something more structured is about to happen: a groove, maybe a pulse but it just slides right back into beautifully shapeless territory. Teases and pulls, never quite resolves. It’s satisfying in a way only experimental albums can be.
If I have any real complaint, it’s that this thing ends way too fast. These tracks are little sonic vignettes, teasers of a much bigger world. Each one could’ve stretched out, evolved more, maybe even melted into a longform piece. But instead, they pop in, do their weird little dance, and disappear.
That said, tracks like “Edgy Ecotone” hint at something more structured, more composed. It has a nice build, some real anticipation baked in but still doesn’t blow its cover with anything too traditional. Feels like a peak moment in the album, if there is one. Otherwise, the vibe is consistent all the way through. No filler, no obvious singles, just one wonky grove after another stitched together with glue made from PVC pipes and bird calls.
Remízek Review Metrics
Modular Garden Weirdness: 🌿🌿🌿🌿.5/5
The whole album feels like someone planted a synth in a field and let it bloom sideways.
Glitch Ecology Rating: 🦗🦗🦗🦗/5
Clicks, chirps, creaks—everything sounds like it crawled out of a glitch ecosystem built from contact mic mulch.
Arrangement Intent Factor: 🎯🎯🎯🎯.2/5
It feels random, but that’s the trap. He’s steering the whole time.
Shortform Teaser Vibes: 📼📼📼📼📼/5
Every track could’ve been double the length and still held interest. Feels like a preview reel for a much longer piece.
Lo-Fi Storytelling Score: 8.8/10
Narrative through noise—tension, drama, micro-emotions built from simple elements.
What I love about Remízek Music is that it doesn’t try to please anybody. It’s not here for club play. It’s not ambient wallpaper. It’s an exploration of environment – like a little grove dropped into a synthetic field, full of strange creatures and bending soundscapes. And the more you sit with it, the more you notice, tiny glitches with personality, FX movements that feel like wind, percussion that sounds like it’s tumbling through broken architecture.
This one’s short, but it sticks. I’d love to hear what sorbitol drops does next—whether that’s longer compositions, installations, or more sonic experiments like this. He’s definitely one to keep an eye on in the Czech experimental scene, especially with the kind of restraint and creativity this debut shows off.