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Chris Griffin – 100% sincerity and absolute zero link to what you're thinking – is the man-wonder behind Acquaintance, Brighton's première electro upstart. He's on the cusp of dropping a debut LP – Satellite Stream – into the ether, and despite a pretty malnourished social media following, nothing's going to stop him carousing the masses with his synthpop charm offensive. Let Griffin schmooze you with this thundering goliath of a debut, and breathe in a gaseous cocktail of space-age digitronica, icy techno-pop and effervescent whimsy.

Similarities between Acquaintance and acts like Pure Bathing Culture, Hundred Waters and Saturday Night Gym Club are gleaned easily – though it's not derivative by any means, as these are all fairly contemporary artists appearing at a similar time. He slots in nicely as a missing link between these outfits, acting as a bridge between the organic tones of PBC and the heady ethereal dance of SNGC. Acquaintance has a blend of both natural and synthetic timbres: there's deep house blubs and synthpop melodies, but also smoky onslaughts of vocal harmonies and occasional piano hooks embellishing the robotica. It's cyborg-pop, straddling the world of circuitboards and wires with our own Terra firma.

On Satellite Stream, Griffin's tracks are "linked together by recurring themes and characters." While the narratives are perhaps more difficult to discern, there's definitely a completeness to the record – it feels like a fleshed-out sonic environment, a world to be inhabited by Griffin's fey vox and Final Fantasy/Nobuo Uematsu-esque earworms. "Welcome to a place that we believe you'll recognise/ similar you'll find to the one that you left behind," coos Griffin on 'Lifelike' between an e-marimba thicket and tribal clicks. There's '80s funk bass and an ebbing pastel-pink tide; Satellite Stream is a vivid, visual LP, full of life and colour. It may be electronically helmed, but it's, well, lifelike. Though his actual stories may be oblique, there's definitely a well-rounded milieu to be culled and adored.

'Open Secret' is a roided behemoth of juicy pop threads and crunchy drum machines. There's shimmering steel pan stabs mixed in too, giving a tropical air to the electric melange; Griffin's dulcet voice also lightens the track – he's all swoony sighs and dreamboat gasps. 'Telepathic' takes a wildly different route, chucking his oft-noted Balearic/Italo dance into the mix. It's not pure hedonism though, and he vies for the intelligentsia with his birdsong-sampling astrodance – the rhythms and bass are '80s club fodder, but when he slithers into the fray with debonair flair, it's all coolly calculated grace. These two tracks essentially sum up the two entities on Griffin's debut: you've got the rugged synthpop that meanders in jungles, and futuristic retro-dance. It's not a strict system of categorisation, but there's a general theme throughout Satellite Stream. The major exception to this is 'Living Memory', which sounds like a Mew doppelgänger.

Griffin's debut album is dazzling. It bombards with infectious riffs and neo-disco goo, but there's also a sprawling exploratory side to it as well. Between his knack for nurturing a living, breathing pop microcosm on Satellite Stream and oozing foot-tappingly solid dance, you'll barely have time to comprehend much else. Yes, it's a very full album – one that's basically breakfast, lunch and dinner in terms of your aural RDA – but it's one that's greatly rewarding. You'll get repeatedly lost amongst his music, and with every subsequent excursion, you'll stumble across something new to cherish. There aren't many albums out there with such replayability.