quête:taboos

After a brief wander 'round the garden, Chilean-born Ricardo Tobar returns to the ESP Institute bearing earthly delights. With 2017's Liturgia, he introduced his creative point-of-view—instantly substantiating a sense of rhythm that was deliberately complex yet slightly rough around the edges, while touching upon his musical origins from the guitar-driven corners of psychedelia— however with his debut 2xLP Continuidad, he leaves us gobsmacked and seeking shelter as he leaps from dancefloor comforts and descends into absolute chaos (in more ways than one). Emotionally, the artist has crossed all previously self-imposed and subconscious thresholds, putting his true imagination on display and exposing an unwavering attraction to all things loud, orgasmic and transcendent. He's not subtly hinting at a fetish, but opening his arms wide with conviction, abandoning genre taboos and personally inviting everyone to join his enchanted caravan. Sonically, his appetite for intensity is clear throughout—epic chord changes, ascending peaks in arrangement, accumulating layers of grit that build into impenetrable blankets of distortion and feedback—a kind of aural hedonism that translates visually into the potent video abstractions our Mario Hugo has summoned for the album's packaging. This follow-up single surrounding the Continuidad album boasts the dirty little secret Bailemix of album track Recife—we wont go as far as uttering the 'T' word, but this is unbridled merciless tops-off festival gear for the massive. The flipside is another exclusive non-album cut Cuatro Meses De Verano, a rhythmic build-up that breaks into a low-slung funky stomper, Tobar's idea of a warm-up weapon.

After a brief wander 'round the garden, Chilean-born Ricardo Tobar returns to the ESP Institute bearing earthly delights. With 2017's Liturgia, he introduced his creative point-of-view—instantly substantiating a sense of rhythm that was deliberately complex yet slightly rough around the edges, while touching upon his musical origins from the guitar-driven corners of psychedelia— however with his debut 2xLP Continuidad, he leaves us gobsmacked and seeking shelter as he leaps from dancefloor comforts and descends into absolute chaos (in more ways than one). Emotionally, the artist has crossed all previously self-imposed and subconscious thresholds, putting his true imagination on display and exposing an unwavering attraction to all things loud, orgasmic and transcendent. He's not subtly hinting at a fetish, but opening his arms wide with conviction, abandoning genre taboos and personally inviting everyone to join his enchanted caravan. Sonically, his appetite for intensity is clear throughout—epic chord changes, ascending peaks in arrangement, accumulating layers of grit that build into impenetrable blankets of distortion and feedback—a kind of aural hedonism that translates visually into the potent video abstractions our Mario Hugo has summoned for the album's packaging. This might all sound like a warning for Hurricane Ricardo, but fear not, listeners will still find some security in the album's rhythmic underpinnings, and although this foray into primitive, ritualistic bang-the-drum percussion is significantly more dangerous than his previous programming, its the imperfection in his passionate studio performances that imbue Continuidad with something remarkably human.

Released in solidarity with Tiga's anti-tech house crusade, a silent campaign fought everyday on the streets of your hometown, 'Blaze' finds Russian crypto-whiz Dimitri Veimar still dancing with the rawer-than-the-rawest-dog electro that's brought him to the dizzying heights of the mid-tier crags of Mt. Turbo Mountain. Throwing his weight behind what some in the media are probably already calling 'Tiga's War' was absolutely necessary following the events of a recent gig in Moscow. Veimar opened the night by playing no fewer than three Tiga tracks, which anyone who's read Tiga's Taboos can tell you is definitely a Tiga Taboo. Deeply immersed in the practice of pouring his own mineral water, Tiga ignored the hootin' and hollerin' of the VIPs crowding the DJ booth (including Dennis Miller and Diego Maradona), and proceeded to play a set entirely comprised of recordings of every embarrassing thing Veimar had ever said in his life. Four hours later, an emotionally-shot Veimar collapsed into Tiga's arms, with the magnanimous label boss whispering, 'I forgive you, Dimitri' into his ear. The release also features a 'broken techno' remix from mysterious European producer Florian Kupfer, who made us sign a Non-Disclosure-Agreement dictating that we can only describe him as 'mysterious,' 'enigmatic,' and/or 'European,' so we'll have to let the music do the talking.

VENT forges new alliances, as Dee Grinski and Tolga Baklacioglu joins forces to explore musical synergies on a collaborative LP release of drone alchemy, eternal rhythms and harrowing vocalisations, which explores the lightless mazes of subconscious voids, teasing at barely understood taboos. Tolga's past explorations of unrelenting industrial sounds are further refined, and enforced with Dee's vocal talent that covers a wide range of expression - from commanding and authoritative to harrowing howls of disembodied despair. They invite us to come with on a journey towards the lightless fringes of cognisance.

There is something singularly unique and peculiar in the degree to which seemingly unsettling themes and extreme taboos have been explored, most notably in the medium of film, in the land of Nippon. Free from the constraints of reality, notions of grotesque brutality, torture, fetishism, and sadomasochism, to name a few, have oftentimes served as driving motifs in the examination of the true nature of violence latent in the most repressed reaches of the human mind. Concurrently, in the realm of electronic music, many Japanese producers have often been able to cultivate and harness a daring yet distinctly refined and inimitable form of organized sonic chaos, one almost instantly recognizable to the occidental ear. The music of Tomohiko Sagae, and in particular his latest contribution to Furanum's catalogue, The Spurt of Blood, is perhaps a quintessential example of the confluence of the former themes and latter medium.
At the outset of the record, the beholder is faced with the 'Vacant Eyes' of a staggering monstrosity, a subdued and subjugated automata in the midst of a bleak dystopia, nearly lifeless but for the grudgingly conceded advance of its death march. As a battery of gratuitous aural violence led by a dominant synth is rapidly unleashed in the subsequent composition, a growing malaise transforms into fractured bone and psyche alike, with no distinction made anymore between the tearing of metal, flesh, or the fabric of the mind. Culminating in 'Severe Pain', with limits of endurance breached and descent into madness the only seeming form of respite, relentlessly rolling drums and hauntingly sublime howls provide the context for the dawning realization of pain as a virtue in and of itself, when a demented pleasure and the exhilarative liberation that lies therein begins to emerge. In the final act, reinterpreted by Furanum stalwarts Uncto, roles are tellingly reversed as the vacant eyes of the victim become that of the oppressor. With cold-blooded precision, the original is reengineered into a force of merciless domination, its elements machined and recalibrated for pure power.Words: PSD