Suche:tittingur

The cinematic opening track Inthenever starts off as a film >> somewhere on a desolate coast, where everything has already ceased. This is going to be an album with a story and depth, a fearless tour of the barren shores of our days // or is it possibly just a mirage conclusion of their razor-sharp sound brutalism? Tittingur's third album, Epiphany, is here, pounding with waves they had not done before.

It seems as though this dyad has disposed of all the genre confines that had locked them in, and have grasped the sound of new subject matters, for which the moniker of experimental techno is finally too narrow. With utter urgency and candid to their emblematic, thunderous sound, Dominik's and Matus's deafening mallets collide in beats which are now, more than ever, drenched in a mass of palpable gloom and anguish. As though we could touch the rising levels of the oceans, and smell the melting of the glaciers themselves.

In one way or another, the music of Tittingur has always been about nature, its fierce essence, and its stark contrast with the post-era that we have found ourselves living in. However, whereas before, it was the sound of old, weather-stained concrete, and the pounding of abandoned, overgrown buildings, now it is, unavoidably, their most direct and honest return to nature landscapes, and to human, age-old traditions, referenced in the Slovak folk motives, recordings and found sounds.

On Epiphany, Tittingur's sound becomes yet more abstract, in a sound world that is ambiguous but also unified, and works on its own. The duality of nature and technology, of inland human folklore and the trenches of deepest oceans, invite us to come closer and observe the volatile obliteration taking place. Can we even attempt to re-assess our position with nature, or is this whole experiment doomed to fail?

Unsurprisingly, in the echoes, all the ingredients of the classic Tittingur sound are still present, distilled into new forms >> the ever-present over-saturation, the exaggerated, maximalist approach and megalomania >> the sound of impending climate change, doom, and near-apocalyptic visions, the scent of borovička mixed with the wild North Sea, the agony of contemporary urban life, and the adventure of wilderness: ferocious synths, monumental beats, aggressive basslines and crumbling noise-scapes built of a found-sound, music concréte-like, collagist approach.

At moments, it seems the means have changed. Just until you realise that the sentences of this story are spoken in a new language. If you dive deep enough, and listen to the essence that the music of Tittingur articulates, it's surprisingly easy to understand >> although the notions and emotions are difficult to put into words. The profound narrative of Epiphany is that of an endless inner struggle of society, anxiety, crises, and ambiguously easy // difficult solutions in the post-modern global chaos. It is the calm before a storm. It is the storm. Is it the calm. It is all of it, in itself. credits

In the beginning was a half-truth, the truth was of war and the half-truth was post-war. Fancying the pretensions of its cultural superiority, a continent chose to hide the truth behind ridiculous jargon and the soothing distance of offshored ?????????. Europe wished itself beyond war because it thought the privilege of peace a birthright, just as it refused to understand that post-war was a euphemism for interbellum. Then the truth has set us free.

The delusion was discarded and war was revealed as an inconceivable horror. Almost immediately it turned familiar and virtually comfortable. Novelty songs of drones gutting tanks became a laughing matter and the burning tanks, their crew inside, entertainment. Consequently, a plurality of people started to collectively dream of new stages of the righteous kind of carnage. This happened within weeks.

Our imagination has swollen to the point of loss of consciousness, compounded by the narrative form long in the sways of atrophy. All of this raises the question of to what degree were the years of peace culturally squandered. The art of the previous age prided itself on self-awareness, today we fail to even notice that we no longer recognize ourselves. But we have arrived where we started and our issues were not too complex for expression.

Since no art form generates action, the most appropriate art for a culture on the edge of extinction is one that simulates pain. In these times we shouldn't produce any other music, none but this, intended to prevent our silence from being misinterpreted.

Exactly two years after their debut album, the project formerly known as Weltschmerzen returns as Pain Palace. The project's new moniker resolves potential confusion with the eponymous record label, but it is a change in name only // the music remains ambiguous in genre but emotionally resolute, an amalgam of approaches bound by an awareness of the remorseful nature of the world.

This is a continuity in creed rather than sound. Apart from the occasional drums // peculiarly captivating in tempo and rhythm // Pain Palace do little to invoke their first album. Despite the similar setting of an intensive week-long recording session in rural Slovakia, the trio arrives at a place that is distinct even from all their earlier projects. From a viewpoint where the world's indifference is recognised as a landscape, the tracks are presented as seven distinct perspectives that range from brutalist chaos to tenderness but always remain compassionate.

This is best revealed in On the Height of Despair // the album's nearly ten-minute-long climax that seemingly borders on collage only to become an engulfing suite of severe movements. The music of Pain Palace stands apart from what Tomáš Pristiak, Matus Mordavsky and Dominik Suchy create either solo or in their respective bands (Tante Elze, Tittingur), and it is the 13th release by the wistful label Weltschmerzen.