Beautiful slice of mordant, unsynched strobe/flutter suspension from Serbian producer and resident DJ of the Drugstore club in Belgrade. Vaporous howling and wailing from the greasy swamp…
The usual Grey Area split of (less interesting IMO) 128bpm and (more tense, captivating) 85/170bpm excursions (‘Convergence’ & ‘Incoherent’) through intricately devised production line process.
Unsynched, metallic polyrhythms, sheets and blocks, glide past each other on vari-speed conveyor belts to undisclosed end points. Just as your brain thinks it has computed the pattern/groove it twists and bends into something else…
A strange feeling of intimacy. Up close observation. A dispassionate void. The machinations of AI automation. While there might be a certain amount of poetry in that (and it might be your kink?) there’s a niggling that this is just another souless interaction with another cybernetic organism?
God! This is about as grey and depressing as electronic music gets.
The continuum of dour people out there with bleak tastes (myself included at times…) shuffles on. Which is same as it ever was I suppose. It has the hopeless trudge of a prison exercise yard (and funnily enough Van Gogh’s painting immediately came to mind. Don’t ask me why? I’m a visual person with a ‘Fine Arts’ background ahem ahem, so I can’t help myself…nevertheless, the visual analogy seems perfect).
Round and round they go, heads down, lost in reverie, cut off from the real world.
Fair play though, the JK Flesh remix tries for a break out and nearly makes it over the wall too, managing to lash out with a vintage Reese – before he’s dragged back to solitary.
Dense, murked out slices of almost old schoolish ’94 hardnoize 4/4; tidal waves of rumbling noise and booming impact but with a kind of suppressed headroom/digital grot? (as opposed to any gleeful up front, run-it-red mixing desk overdrive of analogue years gone by). Check the 2 minute breakdown and hissing-foam-on-the-rocks swell build in ’Science Gardens’ at around 4:00 mark.
Almost movie soundtrack clean and borderline pretentiously sweeping.
Middle eastern voices take you out to the desert – it’s a night time ops thing and there’s a bit of cold industrial gnarl alright but it’s deeply bedded in, somewhere out of reach.
‘Telane’ gears up promisingly to a moody, heads down, off kilter, post-industrial, robotic 129bpm funk but those fuckin’ Vangelis, sweeping cinema pads kick in again and put the dampers on it just as it’s starting to crank.
There always seems to be more bass coming outta Bristol. Can’t fault these for the slamage damage and precision separation of the frequencies; it’s OCD, Groundhog Day, caustic loop hell all the way (triggering possible flashbacks to the mid-90s analogue hardnoize days?)
Which is the fly in the ointment really, with all this contemporary industrial techno innit (and my pet topic to moan about) – it’s SO fuckin’ clinical and pernickety it almost feels sinister, like a spotless plastic surgery clinic, the producers now all well trained technicians, nipping and tucking your MDMA rush with the (albeit very) skillful tricks of their trade, but with a kind of detached boredom? “Scalpel….suction….swab….forceps.”
On his own User Experience label he ran a remix competition (Britain’s Got Talent?) for his track ‘Don’t Be Afraid’… there were 146 submissions! (and only 4 made the record). That’s A LOT of man hours for a fairly slim to none return no!?! Make of that what you will, but it says quite a lot about the times we live in. Zero Hours contract techno anyone?
Choicest cut off the EP. Ultra deep, seismic judder kicks with an undulating hymnal dirge that tightropes the line between irritating (and a bit obvious) and faintly haunting. It’s the little harmonising snippets of choralesque refrain that keep it interesting (and quite catchy too).