So there you have it: a rush of noise if ever there was one. This one minute attack the band has perfected is pretty tremendous, there is a plan in all of this, despite the idea that this record is of the moment.
I have been informed that this band make unrepeatable electronic music, but after listening to this I’m wondering exactly what unrepeatable means as applied to this record? How this is all put together, and what, in the act of putting it together (do they edit it, or just bung it in the file?), actually makes it repeatable? They must do something after that first rush of inspiration. Or is it a case of trial and error, are there vast swathes of this band’s unrepeatable music hanging around waiting to be repeated, eating up the ozone in a cloud storage system in the Nevada desert? My flippancy aside, this LP is a hell of a listen, a chaotic steam of consciousness wedded to a whole host of uninviting riffs and electronic blares and screeches.
And it’s good fun, exciting at times: opening track G is a harum scarum video game that’s run naked out of the arcade, screaming for a cab. The ugly melody could be loosely described as “funfair rave”. A template is set from hereon in; that of crazy, sometimes extremely inspiring mood pieces that only lend themselves to hyperbowl: Ec=McCow soundtracks the methodical and ritual slaughter of Jean Michel Jarre by the Gurkhas, whereas E In Disgust is a sort of electronic soliloquy: there’s a message in this wiped out synth attack, the crumbling flotsam of electronic instruments that float about this track somehow making one emotional last emotional stand before they are swept off into mid ocean...
So this is very impressionable, “painterly” music. I think we can safely say that. Let’s try to describe the other bits. A voice yelling “I love the smell of carnage” introduces B Rip, a track that sounds like some long lost Throbbing Gristle piece - the voice does have something of Genesis P. Orridge about it. Just as things start to develop, it’s cut short, dissolved like a slug in salt after barely a minute. The weird, dislocated voice comes back for the dance stomp that is Eb/flo/hate, it’s actually not that far off having a structure, something which sort of makes it a full stop for the preceding 4 tracks, and like its predecessors it’s all over in a minute or so. ABCDivorce is a whopping six minutes by contrast; a veritable Smörgåsbord of shifting, sliding samples and riffs, a song populated by Daleks too, or so it sounds to me. Again there’s a warbling voice, it’s like a Stax track from hell. Dbase no pzlaens (yes, that’s the name) is propelled with the aid of sitar samples and some Krauty synth blurps: schizoid in its make-up, it’s forever changing its direction. What else? Well, a circuit board melody and a guitar riff battle it out for a minute on the aural spaghetti known as DC/Superunconductor and Haol sounds like the worst uninvited guest you ever did receive round at your gaff. CC is just plain daft, squiggling around on the floor like some eel looking desperately for the drain. And yes there’s more wailing. Last up, Ba dishonoured (surely not about Newcastle forward Demba Ba??), is a high tempo romp, again sounding like an escaping piece of machinery.
So there you have it: a rush of noise if ever there was one. This one minute attack the band has perfected is pretty tremendous, there is a plan in all of this, despite the idea that this record is of the moment. It may never get repeated, fair enough but it’s seized whatever moment it was created in, that’s for sure.