Suche:feral a look within

A catalyst for all sorts of noise-making endeavors, Bob Bellerue embraces chaos as a positive force. As a musician, he harnesses the violent timbres and textures from feedback clashing against piano wires, amplifiers, metal, zithers, electronics etc. He's also been central in harnessing community through his long standing Ende Tymes festival in New York, providing an intersectional platform for all voices to utter their noise. To a polite society, things such as chaos, noise, and anarchy threaten the normative structures that can assert control and maintain power over others. Bellerue qualifies his practice as a form of sonic animism, in which engages with that which is unheard in materials, equipment, and their relationships, developing a process of amplified discovery. The unhinged, the unquantifiable, and the unknowable are all possible outcomes in Bellerue's expansive works.

Chaos Is A Law is a macrotonal album, whose expressive de-centralization originates from rasping noise, intense textural accretions, brutalist drone, and inharmonic ambience. For all of the sustained harmonics and dissonant frequencies, the album is in constant motion, with Bellerue pushing dynamics that build, rupture, collapse and reform with an almost organic morphology. At times, it boils with a feral intensity. At others, its muscularity collapses into peculiar almost half-melodic figures, mutated within all the distortion. One could look to the free noise practitioners from New Zealand (e.g. A Handful Of Dust, Birchville Cat Motel, Surface of the Earth) or to the alchemical dronescaping of Stephen O'Malley and Organum. Yet, Bellerue's work maintains a bespoke tactility that is uniquely his.

In Bellerue's words, "The universe is a feedback loop. Creating and destroying. Growing and decaying. Loving and dying. Expanding and contracting. The big bang is the end result of everything merging together in the biggest black hole ever and then erupting into being over and over again. Praise chaos!"

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. "We were trying to find our own space," says Cinder of the formative period Camouflage Heart emerged from, amidst a move from Edinburgh to London and Cinder's evolving exploration of gender identity, well before culture at large was equipped to understand. With contemporary discourse we see that the project manifested her transgender ideas as visceral music. The guttural, feral sound marked a notably darker turn from The Freeze's sixyear run on the fringes of punk. Changing the project's name became vital, not just because they kept hearing the former was already taken, but the desire to embody the spiritual and sonic shift, "to uncover new pathways_to feminize it," she says. Cinder, with bandmates David Clancy and John Byrne, arrived at Cindytalk, a winking nod to Sindy, the British fashion doll rival to Barbie known then for its pull-string talking mechanism. "The goal was to have a more interesting narrative, more interesting dialogue. Music was ultimately my only way of talking to people. That was my conversation with the world, an abstracted conversation_an attempt to make some kind of tiny, tiny mark, if possible, you hope somebody will notice." Over the years, Cinder has heard from fans who did pick up on the signals and find refuge in Camouflage Heart. Camouflage Heart plays with tension and pace, from creeping to feverish to claustrophobic. The percussion moves between restless marches and barely-there pulses; for some parts, they scratched and hit a tin bath, among other objects. Guitar lines vibrate and stab as Cinder contorts her voice freely. She pulls poetry from a cerebral abyss, like "make the snake in your eye, pierce the camouflage heart" on the slow-droning centerpiece "The Spirit Behind the Circus Dream." In that register is raw power, both vulnerable and menacing, an ability to locate something deep and emotionally charged within. "I still remember that person who was way too intense for their own good," Cinder reflects. "I couldn't make a record like that now, certainly not vocally, while that anger hasn't dissipated; there's still a kind of warrior." For all the destruction and disintegration of Camouflage Heart, Cinder maintains the objective was never full-on fatalistic; these songs seek not to destroy but to poke and provoke, to transform and heal, to find cracks of light in a crumbling world. She points to the last lines of the opening track, "It's Luxury": "Don't look down," the lyric pines through static and rhythm. Cinder extrapolates, "I'm essentially saying, just keep fucking going. As time went on, for me, that falling became flying. Camouflage Heart is the beginning of believing in flight."