|04-07-2018, 05:01 AM||#663|
17. Januar 2018
Gristle. The vinyl looks like a slab of glass, nice crackle.
Bouncy squelch. Sounds alright, more tuneful than the Aegea recording, Selected Ambient Works II-esque.
Eastern feel creeps in. Drums shutter. Could be NIN. Stop.
Picks up where it left off and gets creepier. Hops and whitstles segue into an alarm.
Dentist drill. Becoming a difficult listen.
Speeds up, better, softer. Fades down and yelps take over.
Alien soundscape, more atmosphere, swarm of bees.
This is going to be more difficult than I thought.
More oscillation (if that's the right word)
Plinks and plonks
Soft patter, slight echo, minimal.
Bleeps to the forefront, confused dance, mixed up thud underneath.
A machine still operating thru the night.
Snaffles and spits. Downward trend.
Meanwhile back on the spaceship.
Burning engines distorted as fuck.
Crackle. Snap and pop have long since departed. Up and down steadily as an army of tiny ants plough underneath the grooves. Hark a warning sound, and then gone. Repeats. Crickets talk now below the buzzing flies. Shoo shoo the laser seems to say. Techno chops at the low end Turning Dragonesque. Pop's back, this time atop a subtle little thrill. Crackle pull a knife on pop, drags him under slowly like a Canadian octopus. Yes.
Charming nonsensical notes. There is a tune here but it has been mangled into mud. Very different to before, playful like ring a ring of roses. Clumsy feedback swells divert attention screaming beams of windy sound all around. Atishoo, atishoo, we all fall down.
Plinky plonk, space bound, no real purpose jus' moochin' round. Dark here now. More dentist chair antics on this Savage Planet. Won't somebody think about the Ohms! Clangers won't, too busy foraging for scrap to know what to do. Emergency emergency, just for a second and then back to the business; whatever that is. More techno! More dragon! A cheeky little surprise, held back for the reprise.
Fists full of synth. Smash. Fatlip. A train, a train, a train, a train, would you, could you, step away? The guard whistles, playing his tricks, stop starting the train with the peep of his lips. Incas appear, pan-pipe bombing the creaking metal tracks and that is that. We're all ears, if ears were echoes, ringing out and squaring a circle at the break of a new day. Ambient embrace, all over the place.
Tick tock bass motors around a cuckoo clock. Swiss made so the legend says. Show your inners. Show the working. The bird chirps. Cuckoo ups the pace and the wood is replaced. Metal now and modern too. More stabs. More beeps and creeps for you. A swell of sound, grey cloud droops over the fictional mountain and away to Baden-Württemberg. In the woods the birds are silent as something lurks wandering around, batteries low, powering down.
All the ghosts flail about. Looking for the nooks and searching for the cranny's. Like poached egg white. Swooshing around a pan. The electricity starts, tradition. Spectre's are hiding now the sweet sound scared 'em. The sound subsides and the lasers are back, searchlights all around a very old factory. It powers up with a din and a thud, it's purpose a bump in the night. Inside the machine springs bounce slowly but I don't know why. Like breathing but mechanical, up and down and up and down lungs fill and deflate, the spirits chatter, free now, as the sounds wind down before one last up up up and away.
4.5 / 5
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