Suche:controlled demolition

Boisterous stuff out of Uruguay, courtesy of Kalahari debutant Michelle.

An early Nicolas Lutz protégé and live set demolition expert offering hard-edged techno and electro drama, with occasional pitstops into tech house turf. Lean, mean and utterly relentless with it. Pervaded by cranky, unruly dancefloor spectres and haywire cybernetics – all deftly constructed but administered with brute force and controlled ferocity.

Bearing heart and soul at the controls of her 303, it isn’t all full-frontal assault. A fierce feminine energy pervades every nook and cranny, brooding and angsty, totally rooted in that Montevideo warehouse sound. Straddles the beautiful and terrifying with ease.

Machine-powered and ruthless, the Slipknot-sampling closer is a fitting end.

Feel the poison in your veins… “The Venom In The Mouth Of God” is Combichrist at their most expansive and most honest, a record that tears open the gap between who we are and who we perform ourselves to be, and leaves it bleeding. Andy LaPlegua has been one of industrial metal's defining forces since the early 2000s, fusing EBM brutality with hard rock muscle in a way few acts have managed to replicate. This new album plays like a descent and a reckoning in one. The opening run from "ODR" through "Born Deströyer" lands like a controlled demolition: dense, mechanized, merciless. Mid-album the mood shifts and stretches, with "Each Scar A Vision" and "The Way We Want To Be Seen" pulling at something more psychological - the masks we wear, the versions of ourselves we construct for others. "Demons Wanna Be Summoned" features King 810, the Michigan-bred rap-metal outfit known for their confrontational intensity - a collaboration that fits the album's relentless atmosphere like a blade in a wound.

Feel the poison in your veins… “The Venom In The Mouth Of God” is Combichrist at their most expansive and most honest, a record that tears open the gap between who we are and who we perform ourselves to be, and leaves it bleeding. Andy LaPlegua has been one of industrial metal's defining forces since the early 2000s, fusing EBM brutality with hard rock muscle in a way few acts have managed to replicate. This new album plays like a descent and a reckoning in one. The opening run from "ODR" through "Born Deströyer" lands like a controlled demolition: dense, mechanized, merciless. Mid-album the mood shifts and stretches, with "Each Scar A Vision" and "The Way We Want To Be Seen" pulling at something more psychological - the masks we wear, the versions of ourselves we construct for others. "Demons Wanna Be Summoned" features King 810, the Michigan-bred rap-metal outfit known for their confrontational intensity - a collaboration that fits the album's relentless atmosphere like a blade in a wound.

In a recent interview, the California artist Jim Haynes was asked to name his top five noise albums. In quick fashion, he listed off Kill The King, Send, Desnos, Persona, and Carcinosi. Since then, he's equivocated on which albums to choose, but the artists behind such works remain as the adjacent signposts and landmarks to his own constructions of industrial noise. How those records connect to the output from Haynes is found in their unique combination of smoldering dynamism and psychological inquest. For over twenty five years, Haynes has been an autodidactic clinician into the processes of corrosion, decay, and rust, turning his attention away from visual practices and more to the metaphoric crucible of noise and sound. By now, it seems like a cliche that the pandemic changed everything; but since that viral encroachment, there is a noticeable shift in Haynes' work post 2020. It's more aggressive and yet more controlled: a rarification and telescoping of the research into decay for more potent noise and more potent metaphor.

The tools for Haynes' work remain limited: motors, electronics, shortwave radio, found objects, all applied with considerable pressure. Compositionally, Inauspicious is a very rough moire pattern from overlapping elliptical structures that can negate and obfuscate just as easily as they can compound and aggregate. The album surges and collapses upon the two twenty minute chunks of controlled noise that follow an internal logic that snakes from brooding power drones, spectral radio transmission, and an aktionist demolition cast upon metal, glass, and unfortunate wooden objects. Rupture and release. Purge and pulse.