Adam Rå
All Threads Suspended
X-IMG
Producer Adam Rå’s work favours the techno half of the techno-industrial equation to be sure, although there’s no shortage of brutalist, monochromatic design on new EP All Threads Suspended. The massive, annihilating kick of “The Sky Will Soon Rain Blood” is at once both a rhythmic and structural element; all other sounds, from the nervous delayed synth lead to its low burbling textures are bent around it, making it feel monolithic in contrast to its unrelenting momentum. “Agony” dials back the aggression, sliding easily into a dubby, noir sound whose samples and sharp stabs suggest menace that has yet to be fully realized. And in spite of its title, “Stark Raving Madness” is amongst the most articulated and controlled numbers present, with syncopated echoes, gated samples and percussive sub-rhythms playing off the main percussion loop to create propulsive dread. By the time you arrive at the title track, you should be well primed for all of this malaise to be paid off, and it is in its own way – a vocal makes its way into the cloudy mix of drums and warbling pads, coalescing slowly so that its mantra-like repetition only becomes clear near the climax. Atmospheric and grim, there’s more than enough of Rå’s signature disquiet to be unnerved by here.
Freddy Ruppert
All Dogs Go To Heaven
self-released
Prague-based experimentalist Freddy Ruppert cut his teeth in projects which drew elements of noise and drone to those of confessional songwriting and synthpop, and so while it’s never surprising to hear him exploring deeply personal themes, the execution and locus of that work can always take you by surprise. The theme of his latest solo release, then, the mixture of joyous memories and heart-flattening pain brought about by remembering a departed pet, works by virtue of both its universality and its extremity. Replaying the same set of videos of your dog jumping and playing over and over again at 3 in the morning is both the most natural and the most punishing thing you could do, and constructing warmly abrading pieces that turn the cut and glitch of those videos into the well-worn corners of Polaroids makes as much sense as anything else does when no good will ever enter your world again because they’re gone. Whether it’s degraded shudders or lo-fi pads, the steadily cycling reverie of the pieces here brings to mind both the stable routine and the fracturing thereof that a dog’s presence and absence conjures. There’s no need to go for a squalling feedback jugular or compressed screams when the edge of a memory is more than enough to slice you open or remind you of how home used to feel.
