also available as cassette (ltd.ed. 50 copies)
live @ echokammer, Ganze Bäckerei, Augsburg, 05.11.16
recording and mastering by EMERGE
soundsculptures and electronic wilderness
Keine Wellen, keine Wahrung eines Zustands, kein Vergleich, keine Hymne oder Reflexion, Festhalten oder Transformation. Blicke achtend, rück Sicht.
released April 10, 2017
I’ve Seen Demons appears to be a sonic excavation of the interiors of both animal and mineral. The first of the two untitled tracks concerning itself with the latter of these entities.
A steady driving drone speaks of industrial machinery. This is then accompanied by the echoed clink of distant hammers upon rock. Bystanders drum and chant as if exorcising an evil presence from this sacred land. Radio static bleeds snippets of orders through, too muffled to guide but laced with enough panic to warn. I’ve Seen Demons’ bass cavalcade shifts from a tranquil, steady yet firm ploughing march to a suffocating ritual dirge on the first half of this forty minute meditation. Mournful strings and keys soon arise as if unsettled spirits had spooked this section to a close.
The later and longer untitled cut on I’ve Seen Demons is like being inserted into the ailing body of a dying asthmatic. The heartbeat is infrequent and fading. Breath crackled and struggling as death approaches. Lungs give out and voices seem to seep in from a drifting outside. Reverberating flatlined signals are drowned out by a dark rumble of fear and realisation. Drums count out these last few moments like antsy pallbearers pacing up and down prior to shoulder time. A sound like tumbling soil slowly creeps in. The electrical signals in the brain become disrupted and erroneous. Everything slows down. Drifts. Fades. And then, like a mangled Nurse With Wound last hurrah of life, Psychic TV’s Just Drifting warbles in.
I’m not kidding.
Of an entirely different nature is the music by I've Seen Demons (which I accidently first read as 'I've seen demos') of which Bandcamp learns us that this was recorded at Echokammer when it was held at the Ganze Bäckerei in Augsburg in November last year and that these are 'soundsculptures and electronic wilderness'. What that is we find out when listening to the forty minutes this tape lasts. The first side contains a rather monophonic slab of noise drone music with much distortion and repetition of loops to go a long with it. Not bad, I was thinking, but perhaps a bit long to keep my interest going for all this time. Drones open up also on the second (also untitled) side, yet it's a bit gentler and as we soon learn there is much more going on here in terms of variation. The way sounds are mixed together, slow but steadily going in a different course, and half way through allowing for the use of a slow thump of a rhythm machine, along with the processed crackles of vinyl, make this all together for something that I enjoyed better than the other side. It ends with the weepy whining voice of Genesis P. Orridge, lifted from an old Psychic TV song, which for all I know, I would have cut off the master tape. Perhaps not something I would necessarily play very often and something that I would probably enjoy better in situ, but altogether it was pretty decent dark, experimental electronic music, just what we like best here Chez Weekly.