Okay, real talk: I put on “than that” by Rzekomo for the first time at 2 a.m. while the city outside was finally quiet, and within 30 seconds I forgot I was supposed to be “working.” This track just… pulls you into its own little pocket universe. If you’ve been craving new downtempo electronica that feels both cerebral and deeply chill, stop scrolling and press play right now. Trust me.
Released November 28, 2025, “than that” is the second single from the upcoming album The Gray Zone of Talk (dropping winter 2026), which is the third chapter in Rzekomo’s insane ten-year plan called “10 times 10 gives 100.” The concept alone is wild: one 10-track album every year from 2024 to 2033. That’s a decade-long commitment most artists wouldn’t even make to a gym membership.
What makes this particular record stand out? Jazz-tinged guitar lines run through granular synthesis—like someone took a smoky late-night improv session, shattered it into a million glittering pieces, and rebuilt it inside a glacier made of sub-bass and hushed electronic percussion. The result is this spacious, almost liquid ambient electronica vibe that feels like floating through fog in a noir film nobody told you was in 4D. It’s downtempo at its most sophisticated, but never pretentious; you can meditate to it, cry to it, or throw it on while you’re doom-scrolling and suddenly everything feels… manageable.
The whole project is built on layers of mystery. Rzekomo refuses to reveal the human (or humans?) behind the music. Instead, their Instagram is literally just one tree photographed from the exact same angle every single day. No face, no studio selfies, no “here’s my cat on my MIDI keyboard” posts—just a tree slowly changing with the seasons. It’s a quiet social experiment asking a brutal question: in 2025, do we actually need to know who made the music to love it? Or are we just addicted to the story more than the sound?
That philosophical thread ties straight into the album title. The Gray Zone of Talk references Henri Bergson’s idea that real understanding happens through intuition, not just intellectual chatter. When you stack all ten upcoming album titles vertically, they apparently form one long aphorism. We only have three pieces of the puzzle so far, but I’m already obsessed with figuring out the final sentence by 2033.
Look, the downtempo and ambient electronica scene is absolutely stacked right now—everyone and their roommate has a modular rig and a Bandcamp page—but “than that” carves out its own lane. It’s warm enough to feel human yet distant enough to make you question if it even is. Fans of Jon Hopkins’ more introspective moments, Kiasmos’ glacial pulse, or even Max Cooper’s brain-melting sound design are going to lose their minds over this one.
If you’re an independent artist reading this and feeling inspired (or mildly intimidated) by Rzekomo’s long-game vision, you’re going to need rock-solid distribution that grows with you. DistroKid is still the move for forward-thinking electronic producers—unlimited uploads, you keep 100% of your royalties, and it’s stupidly easy to get on Spotify, Apple Music, TikTok, everywhere. Plus, if you sign up through this link you get 7% off your first year: https://distrokid.com/vip/seven/2058328. Ten albums in ten years? Yeah, you want the plan that doesn’t nickel-and-dime you every release.
So what do you think—is great music still great if we don’t know who made it? Does the tree on Rzekomo’s Instagram make the tracks hit different? Drop your theories in the comments, I’m dying to know. And go stream “than that” immediately. Your late-night playlist deserves this kind of atmospheric magic.
