I'm told this is a footwork album, surely the most fucked-up music ever made to dance to. I'm old as fuck.
Backstory aside, this album's pure skitterey minimalism, each song working with different mincings of the same sort vocal sample, chopping the same beat at as many angles as possible, all riding on the same album-wide 4-chord progression that reappears again and again, slowed down, sped up, skittering, extruded, diluted, melted and bent. There's prefuse crinkleup around every corner, jacked into seemingly arbitrary origami roadmaps, but underneath it's a stone soup of samples and acid house squiggles, seemingly no more than a dozen or two, just sent again and again through the wringer. That re-re-re-construction makes for a difficult listen, but that 4-chord backbone elevates it - each track's a kaleidoscope section of the same post-apocalyptic landscape 3.5/5
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
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