Let me use language here that isn’t applicable to anything insinuating “The Abyss” or manicuring Gel Set. The core that I enjoy in a lot of female-lead pop music this year (Beat Detectives, Smurphy, Eartheater, Lolina, Chikiss, etc.), flickering in the wee-corners, is the hale-yet-faded vocal delivery. And as subversive as Gel Set can be in lyrics for “The Abyss,” it’s just the visible and audible culture of the current generation to be utterly and happily incomplete. Satiation within a plethora of mistakes is is the progression of swag. Like, Gel Set’s “The Abyss” is pretty much 2015’s “Dirt Off Your Shoulder.” So what if my makeup is smeared by the tears, it was also raining on the way here, and I’m a man, which means I’m killing this party, either by getting all the yuppies to leave, or am just completely trashed out that it’s turning the night into a slow-faded mosh-pit of lipstick and saliva and bathwater, champagne, celibacy, fake eyelashes on cheeks and beaks, and [always, and almost completely] etc. Really, Gel Set’s music video for “The Abyss” is my anxiety attack just before I leave the house anywhere. “Ether Or” and Star Trek Generations.
Gel Set (one half of God Vol. 1) recently dropped an LP entitled Human Salad on Moniker Records and you can grip the spin on that vinyl RIGHT HERE. Back-end TMT gChatters been blowing me up about this record, so be sure there’s enough left before this piece of stress-melt music propels pop into the next realm of music destiny. And this Gel Set video of “The Abyss,” –directed by Julia Dratel– below is like:
Taking it easy, tubing on the lazy river that winds through the ruins of music, the depleted rainforest. Remember its old architecture? Precise and perfect? Valuable… sacred even? Like a toilet, the greater its functionality, the greater was its value. At some point, someone turned that toilet upside down, then someone or some persons took a sledgehammer to that toilet. Now we shit where we eat; now we tube down our own piss stream. And it’s fun now that it’s “anything,” more fun than the old discipline required. No need to be persuasive. There are few listeners left, anyway, to rate the value. Music is subordinate to the theater, a shopping spree, google searches, heavy petting, fine dining, tubing, chewing gum. A fixture in total mall ambience. In its minor role, its intentions and arrangements are excusable, if not entirely ignored. With hardly a soul listening, and with little to no chance at financial compensation, the rules have lightened up. Musicians, no longer a guild, can do anything… anywhere… anytime. They are still jesters, inversions of how the rest of us operate, but they don’t receive an invitation to the King’s Court, as they once did. They wear swimming shorts and sunscreen, instead of clown paint and red noses, instead of leather jackets and hairspray. Their music sounds cuter, more relaxed than, say, Landed, less assaultive than No Trend, but, in general, just as irritating, and, oddly, as confrontational. Confrontational, that is, if anyone bothers to listen.
• Mumbles: https://musicmumbles.wordpress.com
“Your Face When I”
Aaron Funk possesses a musical genius that is hard to legitimize. He used to make hardcore dance tracks almost exlusively in 7/4. He’s a kindred spirit to Aphex Twin in terms of eccentricity and tongue-in-cheek attitude, as well as a well-documented history of unorthodox production methods (both artists made albums while in a state of near-sleep). He’s is extremely articulate in interviews, but his aesthetic is vulgar; classic breakcore ridiculousness. He released one of the best electronic albums of all time, and learned to play the trumpet to do it. He also dedicated an entire album to shitting on Winnipeg, Canada. He also dedicated another album to his cats, and inserted their aural ghosts in the mix via spectrogram. He’s infamous for producing his music on ReNoise, a vertical-scrolling music production software that is basically NES-tunes with an updated GUI. Pretty much all of his album covers have sucked.
What does his new EP, Your Face, represent? Well for one thing, it kind of sounds like Funk is playing an epileptic excel spreadsheet, triggering entries from a database to fly by on the screen before the sonic qualitative data can be properly registered. This is a song to effectively remind you why Venetian Snare exists. It’s 100% tracker madness in a year that’s been dominated by grain randomizers and all manner of fuckboi algorithms mulching everything that’s ever been recorded in a desperate bid for originality.
Into the light
Recently, the DREAM CATALOGUE Twitter account asked “What’s your favourite DREAM in the catalogue?” Too much. This answer is unbearable. And then you end up in a room. Or, like you wake up, right? At that party I was telling you about. Sing, man. Sing!
Just, on a more serious note: Into the light. Infinity Frequencies has entered your atmosphere. Aura’d in an almond that you can’t remember the artistic name, only the definition, and then Infinity Frequencies strikes every chord in your body. Nerves vibrating into complete serenity. Reality of the intangible. Dancing like a club girl to music that avoids people equally as well. Wasting money on antacids, whilst Infinity Frequencies’ Into the light reigns samples of bubbling stomach acids.
Sometimes, there’s an area of your sleep that exists without memorable visualizations. Into the light is when you cannot see, but only remember trudging through sand-dunes, sinking into each step. Drowning because the reflection of sun and wave, salt in parts of sandy crevasses on your body. Mint green samsies. Infinity Frequencies. Like, so hard:
Get ready to head-bang HAwwwRD: Day Ravies just gave birth to their newest banger Liminal Zones on Sonic Masala Records and Strange Pursuits. With a subtlety that’ll rock and sock your smock off, Liminal Zones finds away to peel all them *eye roll* layers of hater from your heart and get feet moving and hips swaying. Harnessing equal parts rock and gaze, Day Ravies continues to conjure up a wave that’s easy to ride along with and just tall enough to keep you waiting for more. Synth buzzing. Dueling gender vocals. Drumming paces that keep the Liminal Zones energy continuous. A bassline that licks itself in every song. And guitar-work that’s like an unkempt room, “But, yeah, I got it all under control.”
Unfortunately (but fortunately for sober listeners), there’s no gimmick or repeatable factors on Liminal Zones from song to song in order to play a drinking game. But who needs a game to drink? Day Ravies should just be blasting your buds constantly enough that if y’all got a Fosters on the Staten Island ferry, but the clerk said it was warm, you should still pay for it (or two) and glug-glug away before the ship captain goes “Land Ho!” Either way, Liminal Zones by Day Ravies is out TODAY on Sonic Masala Records and Strange Pursuits, and looking for listeners to sway with. Listen below and head to the label sites below for the REAL DEAL: