lol @ “songs,” amirite? And “music,” too. Deep belly lol there. Like, I like a nice cohesive verse-chorus-verse type thing as much as the next person, but my brain really starts to fire when any semblance of structure breaks apart before me into a mass of raw material closer to some hideous sculpture with sharpened metal protrusions than a song. Sunk Heaven takes me there. On the surface, the grab-bag noise recordings of Austin Julian (also a member Sediment Club) bear some vestiges of what could be called rock music, or something. I hear tom toms. I hear the sounds of a guitar. Sometimes, a human voice sings what could be words. Though the presentation of these elements skirts closer in practice to dadaist collage and/or ecstatic chance operation than any other recognizable tradition, Julian’s recordings never descend into randomness. Despite its complete unpredictability, the album presents its noise dispatches as instances of deliberate disfiguration. Everything is on purpose, and everything is fucked.
Jam Mirrored Confines and revel in how deep Sunk Heaven digs each session into the realms of pure disassociation. “He Came To Watch and Listen” hits us with a series of manic drum fills planted between expanses of whistled nothingness. Monolithic album centerpiece “Swam Too Deep / Sunk Ship” spews out its disgusting wares for 10+ minutes of confusion, chucking fresh peals of hell at us every couple seconds on the way to its garbled sub-bass swamp of a conclusion. Closer “Stretched Impossibly Thin” spreads its queasy peals of drone thick over screams of both human and mechanical origin. Mirrored Confines seeks to deconstruct, to question, and to annihilate reason. Because who needs reason anymore? Not me. Not you.
You can pick up Mirrored Confines alone, or paired with the surreal squall of Some Pepper, from Decoherence Records today.
• Sunk Heaven: http://sunkheavennoise.blogspot.com
• Decoherence Records: http://decoherencerecords.com
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