Album Review — PXL by Nctrnm (Matthew McGilvery)

Written By: Dan Eachus

Release Date: October 17, 2025
Genre: Electronica / Experimental

Introduction

There are electronic albums that impress you technically, there are electronic albums that move you emotionally, and then there are rare pieces of work like PXL—records that do both at once while feeling like they were built from lived experience rather than studio experimentation. Nctrnm, the artistic identity of Matthew McGilvery, has long existed on that thin boundary where experimental electronica meets hip-hop sensibilities, global rhythm, and ambient storytelling. His past works like EQUINOX, TRACES, and NOVA earned him international praise because he treats sound not as a toolkit but as a language. On PXL, he speaks that language more vulnerably, more vividly, and more honestly than ever before.

This is not just an album; it’s the emotional map of a relationship unraveling, reorganizing, and eventually releasing. PXL is structured like a memory collapsing in on itself—tense at first, then quiet, then heartbreaking, and finally on the edge of closure. The pacing feels intentional, almost cinematic, and every track functions as a chapter of a story that McGilvery clearly lived before he arranged a single beat.

Track-by-track Breakdown

Red Planet

The opening track, “Red Planet,” begins with jittery movement—sounds that orbit each other in unpredictable patterns, like thoughts pacing in a room you haven’t aired out in weeks. The tension is immediate. Synths slide uneasily, percussion flickers but never quite settles, and the overall atmosphere feels like the moment before a conversation you don’t want to have. This is the beginning of unraveling: the awareness that something in the relationship has shifted, that warmth has become distance, and that both people feel it. Nctrnm doesn’t dramatize this; he captures it with microscopic detail through sonic friction.

Vista

“Vista” expands on that emotional turbulence but with a different perspective—almost like stepping back from the conflict and seeing the full scope for the first time. The rhythm is more defined, the harmonies wider, but the anxiety remains. Elements collide and separate, repeating motifs appear and dissolve, and the dynamic range breathes like someone trying to steady their thoughts. Together with “Red Planet,” it forms a two-part prologue of confusion, hesitation, and the quiet recognition that the relationship is slipping.

York

Then comes the stillness. “York” is a reflective, soft, memory-soaked track that shifts the album into a different emotional register. It feels like a recollection from 2009, colored by nostalgia and innocence. Downtempo pads stretch out like long exposures, and there’s a wistfulness in the arrangement that suggests McGilvery stepping back into a safer time. The track isn’t sad, and it isn’t happy—it simply is, functioning as a breath in the middle of emotional noise. This is the calm between storms, a reminder of why the relationship mattered in the first place.

Ova

With “Ova,” we enter the realization phase. Here, Nctrnm strips away much of the density and gives room to slow-moving textures that swirl like thoughts that have started to make sense. The emotional current is still present, but it’s gentler—less about conflict and more about processing. The track has a meditative quality, like acknowledging truths you’ve avoided.

Lighthouse

“Lighthouse” continues in that introspective vein but brings a faint glow with it, almost like a guiding signal in the emotional fog. The melodies are subtle but clear, and the rhythm has a sense of direction—something the earlier tracks intentionally avoided. It evokes the feeling of sitting alone late at night, finally understanding the shape of your own emotions. There’s no chaos here, only acceptance.

Essence

Then the heartbreak arrives. “Essence” hits like a sudden drop, pulling the listener into more kinetic territory. Chopped breakbeats, IDM-tinged percussion, and shifting synth motifs create a sense of fragmentation—the self splitting apart under emotional strain. It feels raw, unfiltered, and restless. The calmness of “Lighthouse” evaporates into motion. You can hear the moment the emotional floor gives out.

Fish

“Fish” continues this turbulence but in a more rhythmic, dance-adjacent way. Deep house pulses and fractured textures move in cycles, almost like the mind looping over the same thoughts again and again. There’s vulnerability in its repetition, a sense of trying to hold onto something that can’t be saved. The track breathes and contracts, capturing that impossible middle ground between holding on and letting go.

You

The emotional peak comes with “You,” a piece that mixes ambient space with rhythmic urgency. It’s personal, direct, and the closest the album gets to saying something outright. The textures are softer, but the beats are insistent, mirroring the conflicting emotions of heartbreak: part of you still reaching out, part of you forcing yourself to pull back. It’s tender and devastating at the same time.

Wildflower

What follows is the long exhale. “Wildflower” reintroduces air, wide spaces, and openness. After the emotional constriction of the previous three tracks, this one feels like stepping outside after days indoors. It’s not joyous, but it’s freeing—like the first moment you can breathe without feeling guilty about it. Melodic flourishes bloom subtly, mirroring the track’s name and marking the beginning of emotional repair.

Transit

“Transit” carries that healing energy forward with smooth, steady rhythms. The track feels like motion—like riding a train at sunset or watching a city pass by from a window seat. It’s the sound of moving on, not with excitement, but with quiet determination. There’s a warmth here that earlier tracks lacked, and it’s deeply comforting.

Omni

“Omni” widens the sonic landscape even further. Ambient layers stretch out into near-cosmic territory, placing the listener in a space that feels larger than the heartbreak that dominated the album’s middle section. There’s clarity now, a sense of perspective. Where “Red Planet” and “Vista” were claustrophobic, “Omni” is expansive. It’s the track that says: You survived this. Now what’s next?

Closure & Remaining Pieces

The album’s remaining tracks (depending on the full tracklist included on Bandcamp) reinforce that sense of release. They settle into a calm that isn’t numbness but acceptance. The beats are softer, the textures smoother, and the emotional weight lighter. Nctrnm ends PXL not with triumph but with peace, and that feels far more honest. Healing rarely arrives as a crescendo—it comes as a quiet shift no one else notices.

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Final Thoughts

PXL is a deeply personal project disguised as an experimental electronic record. It’s rooted in IDM, ambient, downtempo, house, and global rhythm influences, yet none of that defines it as much as the emotion behind it. Matthew McGilvery continues to carve out his own identity in the electronic world—blending hip-hop sensibilities, cinematic sound design, and global musical textures—but here he channels those skills into storytelling that feels lived-in.

This is an album for anyone who has felt something falling apart in slow motion. It is for those who replay memories, who analyze the smallest gestures, who need music to help them understand themselves. With PXL, Nctrnm isn’t just making electronic music. He’s making emotional cartography.

And every listen reveals a new piece of that map.

You can listen to the entire album and purchase the vinyl here on Bandcamp:

https://nctrnm.bandcamp.com/album/pxl