Their name meaning “weapons” in Russian, ОРУЖИЕ’s industrial-house soundscapes can liketheir own form of aural warfare. At times like these, squelchy kick drums tear through floorboards of rhythm, spilling the carefully-arranged interior decor that sits atop them. Nubbly rugs of warm synth pads slide through the newly-formed aperture. Snares dive from their perches like side-table vases, shattering and disappearing into the unseen space down below. The asbestos ceiling collapses.
Survey the damages. Look into the hole and here’s what you’ll find:
“ASMR” is a serene pile on a concrete floor. The grey pillar of light pushing through the gaping canopy casts a holy glow over the cone-shaped collection of rubble: specks of pulverized material ascend like migrating souls you’d take care not to breathe in.
Sift through the wreckage and what you’ll find looks a lot like the spacey transmissions broadcast by small-run tape labels in the late-00s that began to fizzle out when Pitchfork’s short-lived Altered Zones blog conglomerate began to pick them up in 2011. Remember Emeralds’ “Candy Shoppe”? It’s somewhere in here, looking a bit more like powdered sugar than a legitimate confectionery. Grippers Nother Onesers? I think I saw ‘em chilling beneath the broken body of an old Sun Araw jam sesh.
Somewhere below, down in the furnace, there’s more modern heat brewing. Nudges of sub-bass and echoing vocals suggest the sort of gothed-out trap rap chefed up by producers like Nedarb Nagrom and Keyboard Kid. The percussion’s little more than suggested, hinted at beneath the weight of the rubble. But as I bop my head to the phantom 808, it might as well be rattling my car’s trunk. “ASMR” slaps in the lowest key possible: call it a post-banger?
More about: ОРУЖИЕ
