Posts Tagged ‘collaboration’

3rd April 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Exit Void represents the coming together of no fewer than six notable names from the Austrian scene. Some may even designate them the title of ‘supergroup’. Their bio spins it that ‘EXIT VOID functions as a spontaneous search for sound, where the distinct artistic signatures of Manfred Engelmayr (Bulbul), Katrin Euller (Rent), Alex Kranabetter (Drank), Wolfgang Lehmann (Voyage Futur), Anja Plaschg (Soap&Skin), and David Reumüller (Reflector) collide in productive friction, giving rise to music that remains open to the unpredictability of the moment.

For context, they first played together in September 2025 at Dom im Berg in Graz, and first came together to work on a soundtrack for a video installation, and we learn that ‘the ensemble combines electronic and acoustic instruments with structured compositions and open improvisational passages’.

There’s little room for experimental passages on this single release, though, with ‘Void of Escape’ clocking in at just over four minutes, and virtual flipside ‘Residual Breed’ at a minute and a half.

The former is an off-kilter and intriguing composition that builds – from a lone, mournful trumpet, subsequently joined by slow drumming which is simply immense, positively industrial… but is nothing compared with the powerful vocal performance. The lyrics themselves are sparse, but Anja Plaschg’s delivery is nothing short of devastating in its power.

Lately, I myself have struggled to articulate the thoughts circulating – or moreover frothing in a wild frenzy – about my mind. I can’t keep pace with the news. I lived through and watched – compulsively – the Falklands War, and the first Gulf War. I was a kid, and it felt exciting, especially living near an RAF base and during the Falklands I would the planes take off over the back garden, and later see them on the news. But right now is the worst and most scary shit we’ve ever seen unravel in real time on TV, streaming live 24/7, and then there’s social media… It’s hard to find the words.

On ‘Void of Escape’, Exit Void keep it simple and focused ‘War in the East… War in the West…’ Plaschg sings, with all of her lungs. And that’s it – succinct, simple, direct: there is war everywhere: the world is at war.

‘Void of Escape’ hits hard, a powerful musical experience and a statement of… of what, exactly? It feels like music for the apocalypse. It’s music of the moment.

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Futura Resistenza  – 24th Match 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Well, it is Good Friday, so it seems an appropriate time to settle down with a large whisky and some candles to engage with an album of funeral procession music from Ryfylke, Norway. And as the title suggests, this is actually what this collaborative album contains:

Rooted in the bygone custom of ‘Liksong’ (literally ‘corpse song’) that was once sung by small groups of singers who guided rural funeral processions, Janvin and Joh tap into its uncanny, unbearably slow intervallic structures, reanimating the practice as a kind of ancient electronic microtonal devotional music. Voices and vocal effects, synths and melodic percussion seep into the cracks between major and minor, and the whole thing carries the creaking weight of ceremony, yet glows with an otherworldly modernity, as if a forgotten liturgy had been retuned for a dimly humming chapel of circuits.

The duo, with Janvin on vocals and electronics and Joh on synths, tape machines, and percussion, also enlisted Lucy Railton (cello) and Jules Reidy (electric guitar).

The nine tracks present a remarkably structured, linear funeral journey – and while the premise of the album is already most uncommonly literal, so is the linear structure, which begins with ‘Leaving Home’ and concludes with ‘Postlude’, which it arrives at via ‘Pasing neighbours’, ‘Before the burial site’, ‘By the grave’, ‘Lowering the coffing’, and ‘Processing grief’, among other almost instructional titles.

The pieces them selves are quite minimal in their arrangements: drones, hums and haunting, folk-inspired vocals, bathed in reverb and surrounded by echo come together to create soundscapes which are haunting, and, at times, other-wordly. ‘Pasing Neighbours’ is a slice of detached, rippling electronica, which on the surface couldn’t be further removed from ancient Nordic rituals… and yet Janvin and John succeed in subtly manipulating the sounds to conjure something which reaches deep into the psyche with its rippling dissonance.

There’s a gravity to this album which underlies the twisting, processed electronic experimentalism which is befitting of the subject and the context, and while ‘Passing neighbours’ does amalgamate shoegaze with robotix 80s electro, it doesn’t feel disrespectful to the source.

‘Rest – Bordvers’ which features Jules Reidy) is a sliver of ghostly folk which sounds like spirits ascending over an early Silver Jews outtake, and ‘Before the burial site – Jeg Raader Eder Alle’ is a heavily processed, almost space-age reindentation of a folk incantation – but it’s the haunting, eight-minute ‘By the grave – Akk, Mon Jeg Staar I Naade’ which really grips the attention with its ghostly wails and insistent pulsations and expansive, arcing drones. The dronerous ‘Lowering the coffin’ features vintage spacemuzak ripples and reverberating ululations contrasts sharply with ‘Processing grief’, which begins hymn-like, before swiftly transitioning to shuffling, fractal synthiness reminiscent of Tangerine Dream.

One suspects that in this modernisation, in this translation, something has been lost. But at the same time, this interpretation serves to keep an ancient heritage alive. And this is the sound of dark woodland, of glaciers, of spartan spaces – ice-dusted woodland. Often, it’;s trult beautiful, and this is nbowhere more clear on ‘Acceptance – Kom, Menneske, At Skue Mig!’, another piece which is more than seven minutes in duration.

The final track, ‘Postlude’ is gentle, and even alludes to a brighter future on the horizon. For mem it feels a little soon, although there s no use of timescale by which to orientate oneself available in the immediate entrance of the accommodation.

Having spent the last three years processing – and documenting – grief following the loss of my wife, Or Gare: Funeral Procession Music from Ryfylke, Norway is a difficult album to approach on a personal level. But there are times in this expansive, exploratory work, that death, in all its suffering, has been muted and spun into niceness – if not a palatable, packageable sound.

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The Melvins and Napalm Death share ‘Rip The God’, the latest in a chaotic alchemy conjured on their joint album, Savage Imperial Death March (10th April, Ipecac Recordings).

The album shares its name with the bands’ Savage Imperial Death March tours from 2016 and 2025, but marks their first full-length studio collaboration under the moniker.

About this next track, Shane says; “The opening Buzz riff begins with that classic timing – a hiccup right at the end of the riff cycle making the riff extra special! Simple yet tricky to remember…  it had my head spinning when I played the bass to it – Multiply that head spin with the guitar pedal noise static we all added – God was ripped and drunk on joyful noise…”

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The album was recorded at the Melvins’ Los Angeles studio, with Buzz Osborne (vocals/guitar) and Dale Crover (drums) joined by Napalm Death’s Barney Greenway (vocals), Shane Embury (bass), and John Cooke (guitar).

“I have loved the Melvins forever and their outlook on music,” Embury explains. “A chance to make an album of eclectic musical madness with them was truly an honour and a whole lot of fun, which surely is the whole point! Let’s do another one soon.”

“Napalm Death are one of my favorite bands ever,” Osborne says. “It was an absolute pleasure and a dream come true to do this collaboration with them. We wrote songs together. I would write a riff and we would learn it and record it right there. They wrote stuff and we would learn it immediately as well. It was truly a 50/50 partnership.”

"Funny how life turns out sometimes… collecting hard-to-find Melvins 7-inches on Bleecker Street in 1989 and then touring twice and doing an album with them within the following 35 years,” Greenway adds. “Had a great time with it all, and nice to work with fellow travellers in the Melvins who also couldn’t care about pandering to ‘demographics’. I felt myself almost
babbling lyrically during the recording, and that alone made for very fun recording times."

Savage Imperial Death March pre-orders are available now. The eight-song album will be released on CD, digitally, and across four limited-edition vinyl variants: Black As Your Soul, Indie Exclusive Obnoxious Orchid, Ipecac Exclusive Absurd Aqua, and Revolver Exclusive Neon Coral. An abbreviated version of the album was released during the band’s 2025 tour as a hyper-limited vinyl/CD edition. This iteration features new Mackie Osborne-created artwork and two new tracks (‘Awful Handwriting’ and ‘Comparison Is The Thief Of Joy’).

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Dark electro project, STABBED BY PRONGS has just unleashed their new full-length LP, Static Skin.

Drawing from EBM, electro, and 90s industrial influences, protagonist Craig Drabik has crafted six original soundscapes blending dance and destruction. Longtime collaborators Ry White, Andy Breton, Kimberly Kornmeier (Bow Ever Down), and Lail Brown return, along with newcomer Gabrielle Emerson. 

Human relationships are a primary lyrical theme that permeates the album.  The opening track, ‘Corpus’ hints at imposter syndrome under its moody S&M vibe, while ‘Another Realm’ embodies the longing and isolation of a long-distance relationship. ‘Violent Delights’, the album’s first single, is a harrowing look into an intimate relationship with a malignant narcissist. ‘Fall Into Darkness’ wraps up the album, longing to escape into the kind of love that consumes your sense of self.

STABBED BY PRONGS founder, Craig Drabik states, “Static Skin seems to have two personalities split between the male and female vocalists. I think there’s a nice contrast between the thumpy, heavy aggression of tracks like ‘Corpus’ and ‘Big Fake World’ and the laid-back electro-trip-hop of ‘Pyromancer’ for example. It provides more surface area to attract different kinds of listeners.”

As a taster, they’ve released a video for the opening track, ‘Corpus’, which you can check here:

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The release of this single is in itself a victory. Last autumn, Tombstones In Their Eyes lost guitarist Paul Boutin to cancer. Such a loss always poses the question of whether the right thing is to call it a day or carry on, and there’s really no right answer, no correct course of action. Things will never be the same again, and drawing the curtain out of respect acknowledges that, while to continue is to acknowledge that the future won’t be the same, but to go forward and carry the essence of that person on in future endeavours. I write this not as someone who has lost a band member, but my wife to cancer in recent years, and as such I find myself faced daily with decisions around transition and continuation, challenges over what feels like sacrilege and respectful accommodation of what once was.

Tombstones In Their Eyes are keeping on, and still count Paul as a member in spirit, which is why they elected to proceed with the release of Under Dark Skies in December last year, and now the release of the album’s third single.

‘You Never Have to Love Me’ is described as ‘occupying the uneasy space between collapse and clarity, tracing a moment where survival demands self-reckoning and the realization that repair begins from within’, and is dedicated to Paul.

‘You Never Have to Love Me’ is a magnificently hazy mid-tempo song that builds layers and blooms gradually, and is more of a work of collectivism than simply a band recording, as John Treanor (vocals and guitar) set out: “There are a lot of musicians on this track, with 3 guitar players, 6 people contributing vocals, 2 bass players and 1 drummer and 1 keyboard player. We split the bass parts as Joel was not longer going to be in the band and Nic was coming back in. I had them both do parts and we used some of each. Phil did an amazing outro guitar part that to me is a highlight of the song.”

The result is a magnificently layered piece that starts of gently and grows and swells to towering enormity, a texture-filled sonic monolith. This is a song that fills you up, then lifts you upwards, in a glorious surge, which arrives almost subliminally: one moment you’re drifting along, and then, before you know it, you’re floating… a beautiful blur.

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There’s a very good reason not to compile ‘best of the year’ lists until after the year is finished. There are always late contenders, and this is a prime candidate by way of a late entry for one of the singles of 2025.

‘Bound’ is the new single and collaboration from the past and the present of the femme, gender queer, punk scene, featuring Pettybone, Shooting Daggers and Petrol Girls. 2 and 1/2 years in the making, this is the first new music from Pettybone since their split in 2012.

Pettybone formed in 2010 after being drawn together through the individual struggles they had encountered in their lives, with the desire to speak up about their experiences. Their debut album From Desperate Times Come Radical Minds followed in 2011 and by 2012 the band split, but their impact and influence is still felt to this day, with both Petrol Girls and Shooting Daggers being inspired by them.

The same year that Pettybone split up, raging feminist, post hardcore band Petrol Girls were formed. Most recently they released their 3rd album Baby in 2022 (Hassle Records). While queercore punk band Shooting Daggers formed in 2019, going on to release their debut album in 2024.

The punk scene is small, in the femme, gender queer scene it is even smaller. All 3 bands know each other – Zel (Pettybone) taught Raquel (Shooting Daggers) to play drums way back in the day, and Zel also filled in on drums for Petrol Girls a couple of times. Raquel from Shooting Daggers comments, “We’re all friends as well as having massive respect for each others bands. So, what better than do a collab that spans the Globe?!”

Pettybone guitarist Ivona first had a guitar riff and sent it to Zel in Aotearoa to get some drum ideas, then sent it onto Lianna (Pettybone) in London for the bass. They met up in London early late 2024 to lay down the instrumental track with Sam Thredder in London (who also recorded the Pettybone’s debut album). The instrumental was sent to in Petrol Girls vocalist Ren in Austria to come up with some lyric ideas. At the time she replied: “I have something brewing! Something against white liberal feminism and liberation for everyone. It’s about discomfort not being the same as unsafe.”

Shooting Daggers vocalist Sal worked on melody and there was some back and forth on the lyrics and vocal lines with Petrol Girls’ Ren and Pettybone’s Ivona.

Unfortunately, Pettybone singer Amy was unavailable to take part in the project, and Ren also couldn’t do it from Austria, so Sal from Shooting Daggers stepped in and smashed out the vocal at Holy Mountain studio. The track was then mixed and mastered by Casper Maxwell in Naarm/Melbourne.

Ren (Petrol Girls) comments on the lyrics for the new single,

“’Bound up in our liberation we are bound’ comes from the Lilla Watson quote in the context of the aboriginal liberation movement in Australia, but its so well known because it expresses such a vital idea. I was really touched to be invited to write lyrics for this feminist collaboration and wanted to express faith in liberation and collectivity, which are the core of any meaningful feminism. The lyrics are mostly a response to arguments I was having at the time with people around me where I live in Austria about the genocide in Palestine, but I think they can apply pretty widely. We need feminist solidarity across borders. We need anti-racist feminism, abolition feminism, anti-colonial feminism, anti-fascist feminism. And we need each other.”

‘Bound’ will be self-released by Petttybone via their Bandcamp on the 5th Dec 2025.

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Foldhead had making noise for some time. Nosnibor had spent the last few months taking steps beyond the staid spoken word scene via a series of ‘versus’ collaborations with experimental artists in and around York. So when Foldhead put out a shout out on Facebook for a collaborator to provide vocals for a set he was booked for, Nosnibor’s name cropped up.

The pair met for the first time on the day. Consequently, no one knew what the fuck to expect, least of all the two guys plugging into the PA. In an instant, a ‘third mind’ moment occurred, yielding noise terror which was infinitely greater than the sum of the parts. In that moment, they knew that this had to be the start of something. And so it was that …(something) ruined was born.

This is a document of that first explosive coming together.

Recorded live at Chunk, Leeds, 1st March 2019.

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11th June 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Some artists thrive on collaboration. Deborah Fialkiewicz is one of those. While she’s prolific as a solo artist, the volume of collaborative works in her discography is also noteworthy: when she’s not working as part of SPORE, she’s part of the ever-rotating lineup of BLOOM – and that’s before we touch on the frequent collaborations with (AN) EeL, the most recent of which was only released three weeks ago.

The Improvisation Sessions was recorded live May of this year, with a lineup of Dan Dolby, Deborah Fialkiewicz, and John Koser, marking an expansion from the duo which recorded the trilogy of Parallel Minor, Besides, and Hybrid in 2020. Fialkiewicz is without doubt an artist with range, but one who favours the dark end of the ambient spectrum more often than not, and this is very much the case here.

The Improvisation Sessions features two longform tracks which would quite nicely align with a vinyl release.

‘Chameleon Soul’, which spans a colossal continuous twenty minutes, begins with low, rumbling ominous drones, but soon escalates to a busy, buzzy criss-cross of sounds, interweaving and interlacing, leaving one’s head in a spin as if after trying to trace several flies flitting about the kitchen on a hot summer’s day for any period of time. It’s a morass of warping tones overlaying a ballast of churning noise, and any comparisons to Hull luminaries Throbbing Gristle or Merzbow are entirely justified.

The layers of distortion only grow denser and gnarlier as the track progresses, crashing waves of white noise blast in from one side and then the other as they really push to test the stamina. And then you realise we’re only six minutes in. This is a positive: plenty more left to enjoy… Enjoyment is of course subjective, and enjoyment of this requires being appreciative of a dizzying, disorientating assault simultaneous with a full-on white noise blizzard.

The momentary lulls, the spells where they pull back from the precipice of all-out aural obliteration, are far from mellow, as serrated spurs of hard-edged drones, wails of feedback and brain-melting extraneous noise conglomerate to seismic effect. There are some nasty high-end frequencies knocking about in the mix, moments were one has to check if the whistle is coming from the speakers of if it’s that troublesome tinnitus nagging again, and said frequencies rise from a battery of ugly distortion, bone-shattering blasts of which simple explode around the twelve-minute mark, and from hereon in, things only grow harsher, more corrupted, more intense, more difficult to withstand. We’d be inching into polythene bags on heads territory were it not for the variation, but the last three minutes or so are fractured, damaged, and agonizing – part power electronics, part circuit meltdown.

As the world becomes evermore and increasingly fucked up, I find words fail me more by the day. It’s harder to articulate, and this is where I’ve found that sound has come into its own. Sound as the capacity to convey something beyond words, something that lies in the most innermost parts, giving voice to the subconscious, even. On The Improvisation Sessions, BLOOM convey anxiety, gloom, pessimism.

‘The Dark Room’ is indeed dark, constructed primarily around a fixed but thick, distorted hum. Oscillators whine and whistle, and something about it calls to mind Whitehouse around the time of Never Forget Death, when they discovered low-end frequencies and restraint, the impact of a low undulating wave and subtle tweaks of reverb.

It rumbles and drones on, eddying and bouncing around in a shrilling mesh of dissonance. There isn’t a moment where this is an easy listen, and so often, it sounds as if the equipment is faulty, whether it’s a stuck loop or generating unexpected noise.

This set hangs on the edge of ambience, but be warned, it’s dark, and noisy at times, to the extend that it may shred your brain. For me personally, that’s my idea of fun, so it gets a two thumbs up, but for the more sensitive, this is a release to approach with caution.

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19th May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Deborah Fialkiewicz’s neoclassical album Ad Vitam Decorus, has been in Bandcamp’s neoclassical ambient bestsellers chart for fully five years now, although she’s hardly been resting on her laurels and basking in the success since it’s release, having released a slew of works in a range of genre styles, with this, the latest, being a collaboration with (AN) Eel, who describes himself as ‘An Experimental Vocalist & Full Bodies Inhabitant of this Colorful universe’. His output is also remarkable, and his catalogue consists mostly of collaborative efforts, this being his second with Fialkiewicz (the first being Inkworks in April 2022)

Although the words are (AN) Eel’s work, those which are published on the release’s Bandcamp page could easily be about Fialkiewicz’s friendly foxy visitors, who she feeds and often photographs and writes of online:

Two Foxes, Out of Boxes,

In Your Garden

Seven Tales

Shape Shifter, Sun & Moon

Shadow Dancers, Rod & Womb

Silk and Cobwebs,

Perhaps this is simply an indication of how closely attuned this collaboration is.

Compelled by Nature contains two longform pieces, each hitting that magical twenty-three minute mark – meaning it would be ideally suited for a vinyl release, but in its digital form, has the feel of a ‘classic’ experimental electronic album, the likes of which you’d find on Editions Mego or Ici, d’ailleurs. The two compositions break down the title: ‘Compelled’ and ‘By Nature’, bringing an element of linguistic play into the frame.

‘Compelled’ offers up some fractured drones which crack and lurch in volume and frequency. As the piece progresses, looping, repetitive motifs emerge, atop of which gurgling, chattering, insect-like scratches emerge, chittering and bibbling, rising and falling, and when these incidentals fall to silence, the repetitive underlying sonic skeletal frame of the composition sits sparse and alone, becoming thoroughly hypnotic. The experience isn’t dissimilar from watching waves lap the shore on a calm day with a gentle tide. In time, 16-bit bleeps reminiscent of 80s arcade games ripple through an ever slower, evermore dolorous droning of a slow-strummed bass guitar. The vocalisations are eerie, ethereal, haunting – spiritual, but somehow detached from the world as we know it, a keening, crooning, mewling. It may or may not be wordless, but is in some ways similar to Michael Gira’s wordless articulations during the immense, immersive sonic expanses which have defined Swans output and performances in recent years – it’s not about song, or structure, but transcending sound and language. And in this context, the title, ‘Compelled’ takes on a clear and specific meaning: this is not music made for entertainment, or with an audience in mind, but music made because it needs to be made, the product of creativity as an outlet, a necessity as a means of getting through life in this insane world.

‘By Nature’ begins with distorted, distant babbling voices over a low, ominous drone, reminiscent to an extent of the start -and end – of ‘Pornography’ by The Cure. It’s dark and oppressive, not to mention somewhat disorientating. There are fragments of sampled narrative, but there are glitches, fractures, which disrupt it, and against this infernal, churning drone, chiming bells and similarly innocuous sounds take on a disturbing sense of portent, a certain horror-like suspense. Anyone familiar with the tropes of horror as a genre will be aware of how the most successful horror works because it transforms mundane situations to a source of fear by adding an undercurrent of the unknown, and / or a foreshadowing of nightmarish events ahead. This brings that quite specific sense of something bad about to happen. The digital bloops, computer game chimes and laser bleeps of ‘Compelled’ return, but this time against an altogether more sinister backdrop, a drone like a black hole opening up to swallow the entire solar system.

So many of the sounds are familiar, even if only vaguely so, but their collaging and recontextualization strips them of meaning by contextual connotation, and so what we find ourselves facing is something quite alien, and as such, uncomfortable, unsettling, even scary. What is this? What does it all mean? Only Deborah Fialkiewicz and (AN) EeL know – or perhaps even they don’t, really – perhaps – and it seems likely – Compelled by Nature is a work of instinct, something which happened because it simply came to be, and is as it is by happenstance. I can believe this is most likely, and that Compelled by Nature is more about process than product. It’s a compelling work. It is not, however, an album to be listened to in the dark.

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Human Worth – 18th April 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Given the event it supposedly commemorates, Good Friday has always seemed like a rather strange choice of name to give to the day – although I suppose for Christians it’s good because without it the religion probably wouldn’t exist. But this year, Good Friday actually lives up to its name, with the ever-dependable Human Worth dropping its second new release in a fortnight, this time in the form of TOTAAL TECHNIEK by KLAMP.

KLAMP first emerged in 2020, with the upfront Hate You, and since then, they’ve evolved considerably. Less a band and more of a fluid and ever-expanding collective, the original trio consisting of Jason Stoll (Sex Swing / Mugstar / JAAW), Lee Vincent (Pulled Apart by Horses) and Greg Wynne (Manatees) has now swelled to a lineup of seven performers, with Adam Devonshire (IDLES), Matthew Parker (Tall Ships), Rachael Morrison and Wayne Adams (Petbrick / Big Lad) having joined their ranks, along with a host of others who have contributed to this second album while passing through.

When approached in the right way – that is to say, with an open mind – collaboration can yield not only works which are greater than the sum of the parts, but unexpected results, as fresh input and different perspectives can throw wide open the doors to new ideas and possibilities. The converse of this is when a collaboration finds those involved arriving with egos fully inflated and preconceived ideas, and they simply stifle one another into playing to form. It’s abundantly clear that KLAAMP foster a spirit of experimentalism, a willingness to try things out, and see what transpires. The list of genres and influences, direct or implicit, noted in the liner notes is immense, and a reminder of why genres are not really the friend of artists who go with the flow of whatever happens creatively. But rather that dwell on that excessively, I’m simply going to replicate the ‘FFO’ list which accompanies the release, because it not only illustrates the stylistic range TOTAAL TECHNIEK offers, but also sets the scene in terms of expectation: ‘Swans / Sonic Youth / Black Sabbath / Godspeed You Black Emperor / Mark Lanegan / Einstürzende Neubauten / The Fall / Sunn O))) / Wire / Aphex Twin / Portishead / Godflesh / Earth / My Bloody Valentine / Gnod / Anna Von Hausswolf / The Bug and more… ‘ In other words, while there’s a lot of heavy and noisy stuff happening, there’s a whole lot more besides.

This means that the appropriately-titled ‘The First Song’ commences the set not with skull-crushing heavyweight riffery, but a subtle sense of ambience. Drones hover ominously, while chittering extranea evoke almost jungle-like sounds while distant beats flicker and echo like a collapsed synapse before they strickle into a drifting, psychedelic indie dream. There may be hints of later Earth about it, but ultimately it’s mellow and shoegazy, and while the pedals kick in just shy of the five minute mark, it’s steering hard in the vein of desert rock with an easy-going vibe, even with the raging vocals which are practically submerged in the mix. As it carries you along on its warm currents, there’s no frustration that this isn’t the heavy shit they’d promised. It’s simply good music, and has atmosphere and texture.

‘Zpine’ brings motorik drumming, a hint of Pavement crossed with Stereolab, with some noisy guitars slashing and splashing cross the solid, sequenced groove, while the vocals are harsh and ragged. The mid-section goes full Hawkwind, and the weirder and more wide-ranging it gets, the better it gets, too.

The album’s shortest song, ‘Wet Leather’ is a bass-led Krautrock-influenced psych-hued droner that bounces along nicely, and while it does kick off heavy a minute or so in, it mostly kinda comes on like The Fall circa Code: Selfish but with guitars from early Ride swirling all over.

‘Leprozenkapel’, the fourth track – which marks the end of side one – brings the rage and the noise and the throbbing noise, and it’s dark and heavy, and in some respects calls to mind late 80s Ministry as it pounds and snarls. Those drums, totally overloading with distortion and a metallic crunch… this is mean and brutal, while the eight-and-a-half-minute ‘The Crying Towel’ is different again, and altogether kinder. This is good: we need more kindness right now. And at some point a couple of minutes in, the ball-busting, super-weighty riff comes in, and there it is. But there are layers, texture, elements of shoegaze and more atop the lumbering rockout riffery. There is a lot happening here, and KLAAMP balance e it all perfectly.

Things shift towards menacing, doomy black metal on ‘Evil Pipe’, but the album ends – with another epic track in the form of the seven-and-a-half-minute title track, that comes on like a meshing of Joy Division or early New Order – particularly with the drumming – and Doves, before going full Melvins. And it somehow works. Of course, Human Worth would never release a crap album, but TOTAL TECHNITECH is truly outstanding. It’s not just the concept,  but in the delivery, and it’s all killer.

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