Personally, I trust music that doesn’t beat around the bush. Sure we just awarded John Wiese the honorable Eureka status here on Tiny Mix Tapes, but when I was about four minutes deep into the first track of Deviate From Balance, my thoughts were, “This track entitled, ‘Just Warming Up?’” (joke stolen for Choco golden vet Sammy D-Bling, propz). LIDS gets RIGHT INTO the muck with “Blank Flag.” And sure the track sounds like other musicians and it’s nothing progressive, but my mind cannot stop moving to this track, and it’s also so familiar to stuff I love on Not Not Fun that it’s too undeniable for me to dislike.
Immediately, the beat intros against vocals echoing out, so unitimidating until the beat tunnels into your cleft mind’s vision that it peels away layers so subtly building that not until the singer shouts out, you don’t realize you’re in the thick of “Blank Flag.” And I suppose the title insinuates surrender, right? Considering there is nothing adorning LIDS’ flag. But the rhythm relentlessly sears into the listeners third-eye like a brand drawn from the embers that feels like an icy-hot patch against the deepest recesses of the brain.
Telephone Explosion Records gripped up “Blank Flag” zones by LIDS on 7-inches. Scope below:
• Telephone Explosion Records: http://www.telephoneexplosion.com
Running at a pace of distance through wet streets dripping with grime off building corners and street signs, awaiting for the next car horn to blare, and lights from around the corner blind your path. Quickly turning down the alley becomes another exit, or not, as climbing the nearest jutting brick wall turns doom into a new strategy, hearing feint *POPS* after tires squeal to a stop and doors are slammed. On the roof, a deafening ring pierces the ear drums, and looking for a way down only exists on another roof, which is a leap, a hang, a struggle to pull up fast as the whizzing of bullets whirl past and pock-mark the wall. But evasion lingers in the shadow of the trail left behind, and soaking in the streetlight ensnares your body in warmth.
sachi just dismantlement your world with “$$$uperjaMMMMM.” No, you don’t owe money. Yes, your psyche is still intact. But for 21 minutes and 20 seconds, you’re in pure atmospheric bliss. Your element is your own. Time becomes liquid. Enjoy:
• sachi: https://soundcloud.com/sachi-13
“Moteur Action” (SOPHIE & A. G. Cook Remix)
Start with this:
Add some of this:
Plus a little bit of this:
And you’ll get this:
“Deep Magic Begins Here”
In my Legowelt dossier, his real name (Danny Wolfers) isn’t so important, though I like to remember his seldom-used but delightful aliases such as Nacho Patrol, The Psychic Stewardess, Jackmaster Corky, and Twilight Moose, among others. He’s been putting out tracks since at least Y2K, but I never think of him as an old-timer, since his new material sounds as fresh as ever. All evidence seems to suggest he lives in The Netherlands, yet in my head he resides in the harsh wintery climate of Berlin - and I say, let him live somewhere where the temperature stays around zero degrees, if it means more time spent in the studio cranking out club freak fireworx like “Deep Magic Begins Here.”
Nothin’ but a gnarly hardware setup and intricate knowledge of it makes this track possible. Lord knows how many synth tracks are going on at any given time, yet it never feels cluttered, or rather it does in the gorgeous way that a lit-up city skyline at night looks cluttered, all the parts combining into something beautiful and calling to mind the million dreams of the city’s residents.
I keep refreshing the track, ostensibly to write about it, but end up just dancing in my room instead. Perhaps this gif can explain the mood of the track better than I can:
Check out Legowelt’s website (listed below) for info on upcoming shows this month in Amsterdam, Dublin, Cologne, and Frankfurt.
• Legowelt: http://www.legowelt.com
The Horny Bucket
“Your tail, it looks magnificent to me. It looks like a disgusting visage of my own face.”
While rummaging around out there in the moldy shipping crates of the American noise underground, you’ll encounter plenty of eager characters who will offer in so many words to [blow] [split] [fuck] your mind straight open with the deranged contents of some new limited edition release. Such sexual terminology feels out of place in the context of, say, one straight hour of no-input mixer feedback, you think. You imagine the perved out sonics that would warrant a true “mind-fuck” scenario. You’re not sure you’re ready.
“Down the rope goes into the water.”
Standing over a basement merch table, a mustached man will hold a cassette tape under your nose and tell you that he’s got “that good good.” You will wonder if this man really has that good good. You compile a mental inventory of who, based on your noise schema, can really deliver that good good when you need it. One human face comes to mind.
“Let the skunk in your life.”
Brian Blomerth (a.k.a. Narwhalz of Sound) has followed up the gloriously twisted Looney Tunes lobotomy of last year’s Pork Dust with a new C40 entitled The Horny Bucket. Indicative tags on Soundcloud include: #Suffering, #Difficult Listening, and #Horny. If Blomerth’s brand of hypersexual canine-heavy surrealism wasn’t your cup of motor oil before this moment, it’s time to shred those hang ups and crawl on your hands and knees into his empire of perversion. It’s nice there. The aromas of various flavors of Slippy Syrup hang in the air, meshing with the aroma of Slippy the real-life dog. Blomerth’s comics line the shelves. You pick one up and you start to vape as you ease back into a questionable beanbag.
“It’s me, waving my dick around.”
Press play on The Horny Bucket and prepare yourself for a corrosive verbal wave of philias (e.g. zoo-, asphyxio-, myso-) croaked out from a gallery of disembodied voices. Over a hell of modular synth squeaks and ‘verbed out industrial percussion, you will come to know these characters. Rich with randomizing processes, hilarious text, and physically unsettling tones, Blomerth’s music has the potential to redefine the phrase “anything goes” for you forever. In the same vein as the kitchen sink sample mangling practiced by Sam Gas Can, Foodman, or (TMT’s own) Rick Weaver, this is the sound of anything actually going.
“Is this how it ends, mademoiselle?”
• Brian Blomerth: http://www.brianblomerth.com/