Saturday, January 18, 2014

Hicha, Robin Stewart, Ekoplekz and Tlön

The Cube Friday 10th January



Caught in the glare of his Macbook, Hicha (John Bence) was hovering over his kit with serial killer intensity... dishing out a sustained juju. Filmic hues digitally dusted in counter falls of hail and skipping glitch, often hitting a lovely processional vibe. Hypnotic jigsaws of sulky dance, snapshots of looming tension...dark city concrete.. the cross hatch of skyscraping shadows and hazy sodium washes. The piled high layers caught in the silky blare of headlights, too quickly sacrificed for a restless pan sonic drift of perspectives.



Robin Stewart (Giant Swan/ Naturals) spun his wares to a skateboarding vid. A sordid bass heavy vibe with rough cut frictions, deep tonal cuts and gloopy smears...the audio sometimes catching the adrenalins and the scorch of wheel caught pavement as the projected skaters seemingly wrestled with, or kung fu kicked the performer's nodding silhouette...





There was a lot of mastery going down under that Arthur Daley hat of Ekoplekz....his slippery dub corridors and electronically bent diversions were ticking too many boxes... a slapping of malformed beats leaked from some nice avant-shadowing and ratcheted squeals. He set up this trickling melody, counter-foiled with a fist of deep and ugly industry... a germ of an idea that developed into a hypno gem that stuck to you like some addictive Velcro, jumping with elasticised energies cut up in sped up / slowed down finalities...





Providing an improv diffusion of 'Truth is 13'... Tlon were great. Those digital billiards slamming the synth goo and curling capstan... lycra stretched key lines rubbed in discordant bliss... more fraught than that Kino outing... so many shifting layers, glinting mirrors, the rotating funnel on screen swung between the two protagonists ... that lush blend of awkward angles, shifting dramas and repeats, whipping you with their dark incising natures... Curling exotica, junk caking your hemispheres in broken kraut incentives, the off-kilter cosmic milk... symphonic candy zapped, clubbed... A crumbled wing flood of vortexing glimpses and sweetly licked torture... That Birkhouse cassette of theirs has got to be one of the best things I've heard in a long while...



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