In Dan Snaith’s Daphni venture, style sometimes outpaces narrative. Off-kilter loops do many of the speaking; a observe will be “about” nothing greater than what it does to a room. That is music Snaith makes primarily to play in his DJ units, with “slower, weirder” cuts reserved for the suitable membership. That strategy got here to a peak on his final full-length, Cherry. Every music was an eclectic singularity: exact, glassy, poignant, and funky as hell. Cherry unveiled like a temper overture: Each winding synth line, chopped vocal shard, and sudden style swerve felt like a definite scene—time-traveling with out shedding a grip on the ground.
On Butterfly, Snaith’s fifth album below the moniker, the Daphni venture remains to be mainly recognized along with his proclivities behind the decks. However Butterfly, in contrast to Cherry, guarantees technicolor dancefloor certainty, the type of clear, stadium-ready churn that’s turn out to be the default for up to date DJs who promote the underground as a sense. The place he may’ve beforehand snuck in weirder cuts like “Cloudy” or “Ye Ye” for discerning clubgoers, right here he trades in his cool chip for mainstream enchantment. The issue with Butterfly isn’t that it’s useful. It’s that its perform feels pre-determined: The report strikes like a gross sales pitch for what a Daphni album can cowl in 2026, an immaculate presentation and walk-through of dance-music conference, quite than an unfolding journey the place the vacation spot stays unknown even to its creator.
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Butterfly is Daphni’s try at serving overground home with an edgier toolkit: sub-heavy four-on-the-floor with sparkles of acid, dub, and jazz. “Ready So Lengthy” barrels alongside at a techno-leaning tempo whereas sticking to disco-house fundamentals—four-on-the-floor, clear bass, and a vocal pattern positioned prefer it’s purported to be the emotional hinge. The observe introduces its massive concept and cashes it in instantly, which is why it falls flat: The hook is dropped in, looped, and left principally unchanged. Then it hard-cuts into “Napoleon’s Rock,” a sub‑minute jazz interlude that briefly interrupts the album’s 4/4 monoculture however refuses to behave like an actual pivot. There’s no significant handoff—no temper recalibration—only a fast palate wipe that clears the tongue with out affecting the urge for food. So when “Good Night time Child” arrives with its springy, vibrant arpeggios and high-gloss positivity, it doesn’t learn as distinction; it scans as a reset to the report’s marketability, engineered for video clips and crowd photographs. The sensation isn’t launched—it’s the crowded-room annoyance of a tech bro squeezing previous and spilling a drink throughout me.
Butterfly’s membership ecology is speedy: A lot of the album lives round that mid‑130s churn the place mixing is easy and momentum is assured. “Clap Your Palms” and “Cling” arrive as environment friendly engines—tight percussion, vibrant surfaces, big-room pacing; tracks that behave like they’ve already rehearsed their lighting cues. “Goldie” follows with a more durable face—metallic, blunt, constructed round weight—and the title nods towards a UK lineage of rhythmic menace and soundsystem tradition. However even right here, Butterfly treats reference like a wardrobe: a darker texture placed on for a scene, then swapped out earlier than it will possibly stain the report’s picturesque pastures.
