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Cult Noise
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Opening event at this splendid noise fete sees twelve tracks of colourfully garbles experimental noise emerge, beginning with a high pitched quacking squealmantra for a few sconds. Next song begins immediately, babbling forth a pleasant warbletune with backing squeaks, patches of wobbly effects and spare tweedles. Wet bloops can be heard as tablets of noise are dropped into the liquid soundscape, fizzing as they gradually dissolve into the sibilating quag.
The next few hypnotic sonnets interlace distorted drones, swirly sound whorls and whimsical chug with toxoid tottering, harmonious feedback and frail noise circumvolutions. Spumescent electronic syrup is churned, vitrified then smelted, this process repeated until a frothing mass ensues. Some parts hush into passages of perished electronics, while others perk up into highly danceable tunes. Lots of whistling, tapping, crackling and rapidly plipping water drops. There's also an abundance of doctored video game and PC sounds.
Of the tracks I can attach the titles to, Dogg Pooh is one of my favourites, which begins with a quaint sample then sounds like a farcical cartoon factory machine with lots of pipes and gauges and steam and whatnot, cheerfully chugging and clanking away. There's another good one near the end with oodles of uplifting rhythm, accompanied by effervescent noise fuzz. However, all the songs on here stand out, each one more elasticated and erratic than the last.
Kraftwaerk 8000 is a strain of noodling far removed from what I come to expect from many Noise artists. Refering to it in this way is in fact incorrect, K8000 preferring to describe itself as 'harsh industrial dance', which sums up these twleve refrains perfectly. A nonconformist, inspiring experimental soundpother with armfuls of variety and colour. Expert sound deliquescence, teeming with dissonant algae, rowdy spores and noiseweevils.
5/5
RECTAL LEAK
The shite starts off with a few snare rattles, which are promptly killed in favour of some farty basslines, rounded off with a well chosen Simpsons sample. The tracks collide in a mangled sound pile-up. Staccatto shards of drum tattoos are flung from the wreckage, along with liquid flange spurts, emaciated feedback and choked frequencies from the malfunctioning car radios, along with the tortured wailing of crumpled noise victims.
Of the noise tools used in this ramshackle workshed, the drum machine is the trustiest. The well worn implement comprises rhythmically thrumming kicks and toms, can-like snare and repetetive hats, providing a knobbly kernel for this Noisecore wholenut. Carved up feedback, sawblade vokill warble and din chippings litter the oaken percussive uproar. The row is often interspersed with samples, predominantly Simpsons soundclips, as well as the odd dishevelled break.
Rectal Leak has a distinctive sound, applying a versatile set of ideas to the creation of rapidly transposing aural hogwash. I find noise reviews difficult to write sometimes, specially when it comes to making any kind of comparisons to other such artists. If anyone, this reminds me of a slightly clearer, slower Nihil Fist with occassional Amoebic Dysentery style silicon squeals, ladled thick with layers of characteristic RxLx broth. The recorded prank telephone call badgering of Steveggs near the end recalls Troll Booger's acts of Egg bashing.
With each successive release, the RxLx sound sprouts a few more wobbling noise extremities, most of them beastly enough to snatch at your attention. Seeing as the material is near devoid of any perceptible breaks between the tracks, attributing any of it to the titles on the inlay is near impossible, so I can't say a great deal about any of them in particular. However, this does add to the chaotic atmosphere, leaving the listener little option but to digest the noisewad in its rigid, indecipherable form.
Turbulent digital drum thumpflurry with twangy bass claws and sudden harsh bustling.