No Records presents the Untitled Works series from God Is A Deejay. This time the producer shows the recycled sound area of past old experimental rave ones songs above all Nühn company age. Six tracks in vertiginous and constant moving through the last decadence of Drum & Bass remembrance music. Not only for alternative electronic fans, it's something else, a walk into the reissued clockworks exciting and hard redrumed job music. God Its A Deejay is the Alter Ego of Nühn from now to the next future, with more features and releases. There are no names here. No defined frames. No intention of narrative. Just moments — found, not built. Untitled Works is a collection of open doors. Each track a space without furniture. You enter. You listen. You leave. But it stays. There’s no central voice. No arc. No resolution. It resists the listener who needs structure, but rewards the one who listens without demand. This is music without ceremony. Without illusion. Without commentary. It doesn't speak in statements — it sketches. You hear ideas, not declarations. Processes, not outcomes. Beginnings, not destinations. Some tracks move like thoughts that forgot where they were going. Others repeat like memories retold so often they've lost shape. There are rhythms, but they never announce themselves. They appear, dissolve, and return like breath. Each piece is subtle, but not passive. It’s reserved, not empty. The production is clean, but never polished. Edges remain. Noise breathes beneath the skin. This is not ambient. It is not techno. It’s somewhere between the two — and outside both. The album feels like a sketchbook — pages torn from different seasons, but somehow sharing the same shade of grey. Even in the most minimal moments, you can feel the presence of the hand behind it. A hand that doesn’t want to be seen. Only felt. There is quiet tension throughout. But no release. Only evaporation. Some tracks sound like test signals. Others, like forgotten dreams replayed on broken tape. You can’t tell if you’re inside the music, or if it’s inside you. And that’s the point. It’s not a message. It’s a trace. Not a name. Just a mark. Untitled Works does not invite interpretation — it invites presence. It asks nothing of you except that you remain. In a world obsessed with branding, categorizing, and explaining, this album stands still and unnamed, like a sound left behind in an empty building. And in that stillness, it becomes something greater: not music to be understood.