Cerca:phones

Yeah, we get it: You cant technically be clinically paranoid if everything youre afraid of is actually happening. Its been a few years since we were scared shitless of letting cell phones anywhere near our crotches and suddenly, the electromagnetic waves mess with our brains big time. Lets not beat around the bush here, its all true. Your thoughts are being supervised, the government even has taken complete control over them, all while your moral compass is spinning at 78rpm like a broken shellac. Its bad, it feels weird and just so wrong. It doesnt even pay well, for fucks sake.
We know, we know: You need a remedy and you need it, like, yesterday at the latest. What we can offer for now is Konrad Wehrmeister from Munich, whose handcrafted alpha waves will interlock with your brain activity and set your will free by taking it over - it hasnt been yours for a while now, after all. Wehrmeisters pummeling techno is the B2B (business to brain) or even B2B2B (business to brain to booty) solution your sorry existence needs in these dire times, and he will professionally lead you to your destination with a little splash of »Radiation« to fire you up. Hes done it for Public Possession, hes done it for Ilian Tape. He can do it for you, if you trust him enough.
So please come and join us in eternal dispersion. RSVP by the complete loss of your sanity.

Repress!

As Sure As Night Follows Day is Russell Haswell's landmark second album for London's Diagonal Records. Consolidating a quarter-century at the coal face of extreme computer music, techno and death metal in 19 tracks and 49 minutes, it's Haswell's most coherent yet varied burst of activity to date — zigzagging from improvised n0!se outbursts and asphyxiated R&B to a brace of thundering acid bullets that positively froth for the 'floor.

The album was extracted over a fast-working period in late 2014, and is best perceived as a sort
of fractured regression to his formative influences: you can hear the picnoleptic recollections of
grindcore shows in the Black Country, the refracted shades of mega-raves at Coventry's Eclipse,
the conflating toxic texture-memories of early Japanese noise, and the incandescent stomp of
Mills and Hood in that early 90s phase.

Fortunately for the ravers, this album includes some of Haswell's most direct dance floor attacks to
date. 'Hardwax Flashback', for instance, finds him in pure tekno panik mode — a four-to-the-floor
wrecking ball groove that someone, somewhere, may even be able to mix. 'Gas Attack' distils his
penchant for all things Belgium into a vicious strain of New Beat lactic acid. Haswell then doffs his
cap to Detroit electro legends Drecxiya on 'Underwater Electronic

Struggle' — a story goes that he once thrashed a jet-ski all over the Mediterranean while listening
to 'Wave Jumper' in his 'phones — before he does the salty freestyle electro flex 'ting on 'Industry
Knowledge (For Oscar)' while reminding his trusty apprentice, Powell, that he still has a lot to
learn. In between these 'floor-flexers, we find more freakish disturbances and intrusive drum-box
improvisations: the modular mind-floss of 'Rave Splurge Noise' or 'Noise Rave', for instance, or the
self-explanatory 'Improvisation #1'. 'In The Air

Today' investigates warehouse-ready electro-acoustic percussion, while the chaotic clusters
of 'Interlude' swarm and invade your senses with psychoacoustic incision. This is Diagonal and
Russell at their most f**ked up and fizzy, and an important reminder of the artist's stream-of-
consciousness genius — and the pressing need for more chaos and unpredictability in electronic
music today.

More extra-terrestrial, technoid vibrations from the Ill River nucleus.
This latest transmission delivered by the one and only Hakim Murphy; and received through biosynthesized artefacts planted on Earth by the higher civilizations during the Great Experiment.

Reports of strange noises in the sky have been circulating since 2010, posing many questions as to their origin.
Secretly, III Rivers have been communicating with the space beings, securing their place in the interstellar Shangri-la when at last we finally transcend the cosmos.

"Smog" is the initial signal to land - beginning with cascading bleeps and sonars before a buzzing sawtooth assumes first contact. Proceeding to encapsulate all Earthlings with its electromagnetic hum - it's no wonder people are rushing to the top of apartment blocks to try and bootleg this shit on their phones.

"Vortex" is next, taking us right through the wormhole into the domain of machine-elves and humongous multi-headed entities, all eager to show us the porthole to paradise. A blissful bubble of ricocheting snares, delectable synth rubs and celestial goodness awaits.

“Spanking Tables” concludes the set and sees Hakim display his amazing control of percussion and unusual sounds; comfortably easing us in with our new galactic friends. Synthetic toms, drifting pads and sharp hats all converging on our bodies.

Beautiful stuff. Maybe the Maya were just a year too early….