Imaginary Boyfriend: Versions

Are more men in your life a good thing? Kevin Kenkel has some ideas.

Over the past years, the Brooklyn composer has built up a body of work that unleashes a tangle of modular synthesizers to map out the networks we use to connect with each other — socially, sexually, sadly, hopefully. His self-released debut album, Will You Please Let Me Pour My Heart Out? (2021) reached out to the world like a cat bathing in the sun, aching for a rub. His second album, and first for Soap Library, Break All the Bones in Your Heart (2024), hosted guests such as Colin Self, Eve Essex, Adam Tendler — and a few ghostly samples — for a series of intimate encounters. What developed was a suite of songs that, like love itself, remain irresistible in their mystery.

Break All the Bones in Your Heart standout “Imaginary Boyfriend (Elodie’s Haunted Memory Version)” now plays the field on Kenkel’s new EP, Imaginary Boyfriend: Versions, for which he commissioned a series of remixes — and added a few of his own.

Originally a three-way between Tendler’s aching piano, waves of distortion, and a few words from the late microtonalist Elodie Lauten, “Imaginary Boyfriend: Piano Version” strips Tendler’s performance to bare bones, with only a bit of room tone, warm as blush. The result is handsome yet lonely — a lover with nimble fingers and stamina. “Imaginary Boyfriend: Original Version” mirrors Tendler’s solo performance with one of Kenkel’s own — an offering of the seminal composition for synth. Its slow and steady analog arpeggios keep time with the kickdrum’s gentle pound — a reminder that sometimes you’ve already got what you need.

Maybe a duo would suit you better. “Imaginary Boyfriend: Beat Detectives Remix” brings in the venerable New York pair for a heavy dub session. Here, a rustling bed of filtered drums opens the door for Kenkel’s modular hooks, with curious vocal samples making for excellent pillowtalk. Ready for self-reflection? “Imaginary Boyfriend: Dub Version” takes its time exploring the original’s solid frame, probing the harmonics, flexing the rhythm to let the ventricles pump, creating a space for the song to shiver and contract, then relax and rise again. It’s not so much a reinvention as a generous linger — an invitation to stay just a little bit longer. On the other hand, “Imaginary Boyfriend: Arcade Mode” revels in playing games. If the original version seduced you with its soft languorous sounds, this one flirts with 8-bit toxins. Game over, but give it time — a bad date eventually becomes a good story.

Perhaps though, this is all too intense, as simple affection is often the hardest to find. Open your eyes to “Imaginary Boyfriend: Tropical Version” — a warm suspension, sonically bathing in self-care, a moist furrow through which synth lines gradually glisten. The mix leaves long echoes like stains — afterglow made aural. In the end, what more could you want?