Swedish producer, DJ, and vocalist Oli XL brings a certain glitzy ambition to his glitchy creations, the kind that can translate the ambiguous atmospheres of left-field electronic music for relative newcomers. There’s an earnest fervor around his work; in fan Q&As, he fields nerdy, in-the-weeds questions about the minutiae of his process and inspirations. Acolytes have clamored for Oli’s debut project on Warp Records for years (single “Go Oli Go!” came out way back in 2021), circulating the tongue-in-cheek hashtag “#FreeOli” as he’s navigated what he terms “contract hell” with the label. Following a surprise drop in August, the record is free: Lick the Lens — Pt. 1 (which anticipates an eventual Pt. 2 later this year) offers chic, indie-tronic glamor and the irrepressible fizz of a kid winning the science fair.

It’s been a long, atomized six years since Oli’s year0001 imprint Bloom put out 2019’s Rogue Intruder, Soul Enhancer, a perceptive set of zero-gravity breakbeat meditations that drew on Basement Jaxx, Laurel Halo and Beck. Since then, pandemic-induced school closures gave legions of young DAW warriors an excuse to polish, share, and export their productions; Oli’s Stockholm peers now sell out world tours with their polarizing aura; one of the UK’s biggest acts went viral by cooing into the void over Adam F. Oli has said Lick the Lens’ mini-album format was inspired by K-pop, a choice that might scan as gimmicky in an earlier era of IDM, but hardly registers as such in 2025’s online hodge-podge, a decade removed from PC Music’s emergence. Still, it hints at a tension in appraising these songs: Behind their glossy surface aesthetic, do they work as communal pop, introverted electronica, both, or neither?

The answer, like the music, is hard to pin down. “HOODIE MUSIC” plants its hands in its pockets: Oli proclaims his own insularity (“I’m shy!”) while delirious post-dubstep chords buoy the track in the absence of percussion. With a somewhat muted presence as a vocalist, Oli doesn’t quite attempt the art-school cheek of, say, the Copenhagen scene, or the koan-style writing of the drainers. Instead, he’s frank and understated. Think of him as the quiet tinkerer who lights up when you ask about his favorite plugins. As he works queasy lines in between james K’s gossamer melodies on “DRIFT REGALIA,” you worry he might float away into the ether like his giggly samples, heart-flutter kick patterns only briefly steadying things.