Glaswegian Salvatore Navarette, or Sega Bodega, as he prefers to be called, joins the ranks of a new breed of dance producers, crafting icy cuts under a taciturn shroud, ensuring an inscrutable allure reaches us before any noises do. However, the noises that have reached us have been promising - he's wowed us with airwave-bothering remixes of Lana Del Rey and his hyped single 'We Don't Know What Sexy Is' won him a support slot with SBTRKT. This is a burgeoning musician who will not stay this unknown or this enigmatic for long, as the bright lights beckon him towards fame. Of course, this imminent catapultation wouldn't be at all possible without the sounds to back up the mystique; we heard rumblings of what he's capable of last year, but his upcoming 34 EP will demonstrate his abilities of with grander scope and on a larger scale.

'Konerak' shivers with skewed sample bursts, torn-apart vocals stabbing the booming bass barrage as paranoid beats shuffle underfoot. The overall timbre recalls trance music of the 90s – it's oddly chilled, with considerable pace and just a dash of rave grit. 'Tantarantana', surprisingly not a species of spider, bulges with darkness and dubstep throbs. The pounding percussion and occasional howls inject a griminess into the EP, revealing a menace to Navarette previously unseen. 'Tuomi' shimmers like Crystal Castles-lite. It's a glitch-step number with whirring synths and night-sky chimes. There's something very '1950s B-Movie' about it - it's a blissful anachronism. 'Samson' is a 4am lullaby with jilted, drunken piano - it's ever-so-slightly dissonant minimalism. It's isolated, pensive and whispers against silhouettes of the city.

Navarette clings to the shadows here, remaining still somewhat out of sight. 34 presents itself as a snapshot of a city after dusk, with every angle attacked via neo-dance sounds. There are moments to party and moments to reflect, there are times to get psyched and times to relax. For only five songs, it spans a variety of moods and is able to construct a semi-narrative, or at least display a cohesive set of themes, which, for almost entirely instrumental music, is pretty impressive. Though lyrics are scant, it's not particularly hard to ascertain what you're expected to feel, and as with The xx or James Blake, loneliness and the fragility of modern living surface as strident core messages.

Sonically, each effort on 34 ventures down a different alley, parading every facet that Navarette can so far muster. Although approaching 25 minutes - which, for an EP is pretty substantial - the release feels fleeting, which is horrendously unfortunate. After the music runs out, you're left clamouring for more, and it's all to easy to let your finger press that repeat button. This is a fantastic omen for further outputs by Mr. Bodega, though it is somewhat soured by the lust for more (but that's just greed, and no real fault on his part) - these five beautiful tracks are mere hors d'oeuvres, pass us the main course.