Lackluster, infuriating? or just disposable and instantly dismissible? Is this the contemporary conundrum? Caught between the ADD and mindless craving for “more” of the social media generation/addicts and the online “like” hype and bluster of the progenitors themselves. Why even bother to release albums anymore? I’m genuinely lost for words with this particular one even after multiple listens. I wanted to like it. I follow and, more importantly, support his output by purchasing the material. I like what I perceive he is sonically stretching for. I’ve listened to this stone cold sober; after a few beers; blind drunk, but it irritates and annoys me in all states.
The simple fact of the matter is there are no bones or balls to any of it. It feels obtuse and wilfully obscure. What he may think is discipline and tech skill can just as easily be dismissed as pretension, even arrogance. “Snow Leopard” my arse! (I’ve tracked one in the Karakoram my friend and only ever saw its footprints, much less imagined a shitty racket like this as a soundtrack to their elusive beauty). Any of these tracks would bring a dance floor to a rapid standstill and see punters heading to the bar or for a smoke. Nothing wrong with that. So then as a listening album where’s the focus? It stutters and farts and crashes and jackhammers away, coated with the usual soft synth pads, washes and cod sci-fi FX/design, disappointingly veering into the weakest and most tired of breakcore undynamics. Only by the end of the 7th track “Pandemic” do we get any sense of slamming groove or focus evolving. And “Burnerz” finally gets into gear (for all of 3 mins or so) in a kind of vintage Italian Broken Beat stylee (think SNS, Anibaldi, ADC and their ilk) But by then so what? There’s a limit to the interest one can hold to repetitive “deconstruction”.
This should by rights be the last statement Rabit makes in this area, but after his even more useless and wretchedly awful 12” with Dedekind Cut on Ninja Tune I fear the man really has disappeared up his own proverbial.
I had a History teacher at school who used to score through whole paragraphs of our teenage scribblings with a red pen and capital letter “WAFFLE!”. Funny I should think of this and in my cantankerous middle age fully appreciate this now, but there we have it. Waffle indeed.
A deliciously simple, ultra phat, dance floor banger to get the sweat glistening on those young, thrashing limbs. Drenched in soggy, warehouse space reverb this has some clinically functional, lugubrious doomcore rave qualities. As with many Bass tunes of the moment the 4/4 kick drum is simply replaced to full effect by a 4/4 bowling sub. It does the trick.
I could probably, no definitely, lose it on the dance floor to this, coming up on 3 or 4 shit Es as the sirens wash over me and green lasers strafe the crowd. But those days are gone and hey, Hodge seems to have a pungent stench of annoying scenester about him and the Berceuse Heroique label even worse (don’t even get me started on them!).
He gets way too much online gush and props for his, frankly, pretty fuckin’ conservative, minimal, faceless grey output; I’ve checked it all, believe; most of it just more pointless techno junk to add to the endlessly burning plastic scrap mountains in China. But the cyberweb intershitnet craves more of everything now, continuously, so roll on the end of the world.
Who would want to be young these days eh? I’ll take my viagra and memories any day.