Opal Tapes tracks on Soundclound

#opal-tapes

My Love
Opal Tapes

Five years after "Privileged Life" was released P.H.O.R.K. is back at it for Opal with four hypercolour tracks referencing French House, Jit, UK Funky and all manner of hypnotic, percussive goodness. Opener "My Love" inverts a super tight duelling loop of voices against an increasingly staggered and glitched line throwing dancefloors off balance like Cassius with a head injury. Title track "No Afterlife" sits on a jerking snare pattern while air vents open to release plumes of steam, urban fields and angelic drone in a 7-minute ride. "Get That One Note Jam" has a clue in said title. The tracks bounces forward on a super simple riff while modular percussion pick out spaces in between. The track slow blends into resonating alloys of cyber-Kora offset with reload clicks and abrupt restarts. The EP closes on "Love Recirculation' a cartoon-ish barrage of wooden perc just keeps on pushing while synths WOW and moan all over the shop. Killer minimal funk throughout that is sure to build a smile.

690
No Afterlife
Opal Tapes

Five years after "Privileged Life" was released P.H.O.R.K. is back at it for Opal with four hypercolour tracks referencing French House, Jit, UK Funky and all manner of hypnotic, percussive goodness. Opener "My Love" inverts a super tight duelling loop of voices against an increasingly staggered and glitched line throwing dancefloors off balance like Cassius with a head injury. Title track "No Afterlife" sits on a jerking snare pattern while air vents open to release plumes of steam, urban fields and angelic drone in a 7-minute ride. "Get That One Note Jam" has a clue in said title. The tracks bounces forward on a super simple riff while modular percussion pick out spaces in between. The track slow blends into resonating alloys of cyber-Kora offset with reload clicks and abrupt restarts. The EP closes on "Love Recirculation' a cartoon-ish barrage of wooden perc just keeps on pushing while synths WOW and moan all over the shop. Killer minimal funk throughout that is sure to build a smile.

384
Get That One Note Jam
Opal Tapes

Five years after "Privileged Life" was released P.H.O.R.K. is back at it for Opal with four hypercolour tracks referencing French House, Jit, UK Funky and all manner of hypnotic, percussive goodness. Opener "My Love" inverts a super tight duelling loop of voices against an increasingly staggered and glitched line throwing dancefloors off balance like Cassius with a head injury. Title track "No Afterlife" sits on a jerking snare pattern while air vents open to release plumes of steam, urban fields and angelic drone in a 7-minute ride. "Get That One Note Jam" has a clue in said title. The tracks bounces forward on a super simple riff while modular percussion pick out spaces in between. The track slow blends into resonating alloys of cyber-Kora offset with reload clicks and abrupt restarts. The EP closes on "Love Recirculation' a cartoon-ish barrage of wooden perc just keeps on pushing while synths WOW and moan all over the shop. Killer minimal funk throughout that is sure to build a smile.

270
Love Recirculation
Opal Tapes

Five years after "Privileged Life" was released P.H.O.R.K. is back at it for Opal with four hypercolour tracks referencing French House, Jit, UK Funky and all manner of hypnotic, percussive goodness. Opener "My Love" inverts a super tight duelling loop of voices against an increasingly staggered and glitched line throwing dancefloors off balance like Cassius with a head injury. Title track "No Afterlife" sits on a jerking snare pattern while air vents open to release plumes of steam, urban fields and angelic drone in a 7-minute ride. "Get That One Note Jam" has a clue in said title. The tracks bounces forward on a super simple riff while modular percussion pick out spaces in between. The track slow blends into resonating alloys of cyber-Kora offset with reload clicks and abrupt restarts. The EP closes on "Love Recirculation' a cartoon-ish barrage of wooden perc just keeps on pushing while synths WOW and moan all over the shop. Killer minimal funk throughout that is sure to build a smile.

247
The Arrival
Opal Tapes

Brutish, noise-inflected modular machine music from the Shadows duo of Andrew Bowen & Dimitri Ploumpidis. Unlike the big-room sound of their usual hard-techno as AnD, Shadows explores a hinterland of radioactive waste. The six tracks within cover free-form experimentation and more propulsive fare as geiger-rhythms shell outward caked in liquefying synthesis (Pulsar, Waveshaper). Complete malfunction is achieved on some tracks as fully bugged electronics scream away in derailed union (The Arrival, Galactic Traveller) and near intelligence is found amid the toxicity in the ugly purring of "Cuthands" and closer "Badman" which calculates a primitive digi-dub smeared and smudged.

433
Galactic Traveller
Opal Tapes

Brutish, noise-inflected modular machine music from the Shadows duo of Andrew Bowen & Dimitri Ploumpidis. Unlike the big-room sound of their usual hard-techno as AnD, Shadows explores a hinterland of radioactive waste. The six tracks within cover free-form experimentation and more propulsive fare as geiger-rhythms shell outward caked in liquefying synthesis (Pulsar, Waveshaper). Complete malfunction is achieved on some tracks as fully bugged electronics scream away in derailed union (The Arrival, Galactic Traveller) and near intelligence is found amid the toxicity in the ugly purring of "Cuthands" and closer "Badman" which calculates a primitive digi-dub smeared and smudged.

268
Pulsar
Opal Tapes

Brutish, noise-inflected modular machine music from the Shadows duo of Andrew Bowen & Dimitri Ploumpidis. Unlike the big-room sound of their usual hard-techno as AnD, Shadows explores a hinterland of radioactive waste. The six tracks within cover free-form experimentation and more propulsive fare as geiger-rhythms shell outward caked in liquefying synthesis (Pulsar, Waveshaper). Complete malfunction is achieved on some tracks as fully bugged electronics scream away in derailed union (The Arrival, Galactic Traveller) and near intelligence is found amid the toxicity in the ugly purring of "Cuthands" and closer "Badman" which calculates a primitive digi-dub smeared and smudged.

189
Waveshaper
Opal Tapes

Brutish, noise-inflected modular machine music from the Shadows duo of Andrew Bowen & Dimitri Ploumpidis. Unlike the big-room sound of their usual hard-techno as AnD, Shadows explores a hinterland of radioactive waste. The six tracks within cover free-form experimentation and more propulsive fare as geiger-rhythms shell outward caked in liquefying synthesis (Pulsar, Waveshaper). Complete malfunction is achieved on some tracks as fully bugged electronics scream away in derailed union (The Arrival, Galactic Traveller) and near intelligence is found amid the toxicity in the ugly purring of "Cuthands" and closer "Badman" which calculates a primitive digi-dub smeared and smudged.

144
Cuthands
Opal Tapes

Brutish, noise-inflected modular machine music from the Shadows duo of Andrew Bowen & Dimitri Ploumpidis. Unlike the big-room sound of their usual hard-techno as AnD, Shadows explores a hinterland of radioactive waste. The six tracks within cover free-form experimentation and more propulsive fare as geiger-rhythms shell outward caked in liquefying synthesis (Pulsar, Waveshaper). Complete malfunction is achieved on some tracks as fully bugged electronics scream away in derailed union (The Arrival, Galactic Traveller) and near intelligence is found amid the toxicity in the ugly purring of "Cuthands" and closer "Badman" which calculates a primitive digi-dub smeared and smudged.

129
Badman
Opal Tapes

Brutish, noise-inflected modular machine music from the Shadows duo of Andrew Bowen & Dimitri Ploumpidis. Unlike the big-room sound of their usual hard-techno as AnD, Shadows explores a hinterland of radioactive waste. The six tracks within cover free-form experimentation and more propulsive fare as geiger-rhythms shell outward caked in liquefying synthesis (Pulsar, Waveshaper). Complete malfunction is achieved on some tracks as fully bugged electronics scream away in derailed union (The Arrival, Galactic Traveller) and near intelligence is found amid the toxicity in the ugly purring of "Cuthands" and closer "Badman" which calculates a primitive digi-dub smeared and smudged.

102
Trial 6
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

443
Android
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

254
Suicide Drone
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

186
Glow
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

150
Direct Registering
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

107
Hollow Body
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

110
DNT
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

99
Taking Over
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

84
Second Escape
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

85
External
Opal Tapes

Acre presents a new digestion of technologically advanced cyber-grime on the ‘Hollow Body’ album, a ten track answer to the age old question “when will the robot kill me?”. Earlier music on Tectonic, Codes and Brainmath has solidified Acre’s music as a station of forward-thinking bass music for todays dystopic street. This issue though Opal Tapes, takes the trans-humanist art of Stelarc, the rattling of kinetic sculptures and reductions of the grime sound palette into new direction entirely. Collectively ‘Hollow Body’ is both a warmer and more fleshed out face to Acre’s work while also taking the statuesque sound design and bone shaking bass of his productions into new spaces. Opening track ‘Trial 6’ degenerates into error and computer pollution before huge sheets of brightly resonating plastic synth sail off like Steve Roach playing the most ambient of Eski-beat in some unknown void. Signatures of error and failed translation continue in ‘Android’, a signal sent to re-awaken an earlier version of your metal self. ‘Suicide Drone’ plays with sample-rate in a kaleidoscope of broken glass and blasts a part-gabber, part-industrial jack hammer into your head. ‘Glow’ and ‘Direct Registering’ close out the first side with a Chain Reaction-esque procession of flickering zero points, stubbed out chords and fluttering visions recalling the plastic bins behind the call centre. Something beings to unspool as b-side opens with ‘Hollow Body’, sub-wobbles under lay a stumbling loop of disembodied voice. Guns are out for ‘DNT’ as the metal body which was earlier awoken, dresses and arms itself. All the forward momentum of bass music is inverted into a lumbering swagger replete with cyborg horn. ‘Taking Over’ offers a soft relief of aliasing tones clashing into each other like fucking modems before ‘Second Escape’ stokes the fire once again in an obliterating crush of noise percussions and jewel like synths. Closing track ‘External’ is the desert, the dust of the universe. After the earlier crush everything has to settle and fall back down.

73
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