Published March 6, 2012
I always feel insecure when I try to review music like this (probably because Ben Frost yelled at me about it when I was nineteen), but I just fail to see the point of improvised experimental noise if it’s just random clattering that can’t stand up on its own. I mean, I could easily see this working well on repeat at an art exhibition, or accompanying some kind of documentary or short film, but when noise really is just noise—no atmosphere, no layers, no general cohesion of any sort—it’s just boring. Only ‘10. Kafli’ contains the barest hints of what could have been depth, with its slow, ominous build of drums, synths and distorted guitar drones.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just some sort of pop-addicted, traditionalist reactionary with no imagination (feel free to take that last part out of context if I ever run for office), but I really do not understand why anyone would want to spend hours in a studio, days in a graphic design office and weeks waiting for their label/distributor to do their fucking job (I’ve put out an album or two before) to make, well, this.
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