Now then, as many of you will no doubt be aware, techno as a genre, along with many of its myriad sub-genres, is a modern musical phenomenon that often sees the artist retain his or her anonymity. Easy to retain when, to nine space cadets out of ten, the digitalised end-product is all that matters in the colourful heat of the moment, mid-trip.
‘Treated Timber Resists Rot’, a quite simply sparkling release that reeks of accomplishment and psychological dissection far beyond it’s immeasurable principal worth as an instant classic in it’s field, is no different in this respect; a glance at the credits reveals XPLODING PLASTIX to be a seven strong band of ‘sampled’ musicians with the alchemists/draughtsmen themselves omitted from the roster in person. As their profile is low generally, I am not about to blow it cover-wise for this Norwegian duo just yet, so I’ll just get on with bigging up the release.
So far, it might read like an anorak-convention signal to myself and other anoraks and trainspotters to get the flask out, but let me tell you that in terms of sound, this is for every single step of the way a full-on, five-star declaration of intent. Moogs and a mellotron spearhead the sonic arsenal of our ‘samplees’, with a dulcimer and kazoos also featured back to back with orchestra instruments. Although the musicians themselves sound a bit ill-equipped for the war against dancefloor mediocrity, the acid-headed breakdown ensures that every one of the seven is heard playing to their strengths within an ambient/deep chill framework that’s bursting with groove power despite the experimental veneer.
Oh yeahh, this is top-drawer stuff alright! It has depth in volumes, along with pure substance. The beats are often understated, sometimes random, but in a playground where incidental sounds are taken to ambient extremes, the pulse always comes back to make wonderful sense of it all.
Opening track, ‘Kissed By A Kisser’ weighs in as the best part of seven minutes long, and is kazoo-heavy. Breathtakingly, these sounds scratch away at the surface of the beats until, at the point where the track kicks in, around the two-minute mark, they become fragmented shards with full control of the ever-cranking tempo. The trance-inducing power of the tune is phenomenal, and the ambient spaced-out feel cradles the mind long after the music and probably y’self, have achieved unnerving levels of biorhythmic intensity.
‘Errata’ shines with pure joy that empties the head, now a vessel that’s washed along by the current and tuned seamlessly into a squeaky but booming stethoscope heartbeat. It’s that sensation where you feel that the music is coming from within
|
‘The Rigmarole Shell-Out’ bursts out from trainspotter-friendly metronomic clockwork beginnings without warning to underline the record’s dancefloor potential by way of warped disco/jungle rhythms.
Self-conscious again, the random nature of aptly-titled incidental number ‘A Rogue Friend Is Like A Wild Beast’ is all sparse psychosis and emotional coldness, refusing to settle until finding its groove somewhere within the unnerving half-solace that echoes spoons on crockery.
Elsewhere, other deft use of minimal percussion keeps the buoyant, bouncing ‘Cost Of Resistance’ afloat despite the warped, subsonic grind – one of many moments of synchronicity shared between the self and the music as revelations come thick and fast with the ever-widening grins.
‘The Full Graft’ hit me like a kaleidoscopic freefall backwards through Stevie Wonder’s ‘Smile Please’, but gladly, the landing was feet first. And I was smiling. The track then got my body and mind racing with a twisted low-key cartoon-jive that’s scratched-out, speeded up, slowed down and broken up. An irresistible breakbeat then nails the lot, spring-loaded. Absolute class!
Purring and mashing its way towards the light at the end of the tunnel, it’s a drum-rolling frenzy into brilliant light with the feelgood factor set to ‘full’ all the way to the inevitable collision course that leaves it stuck out on a looping limb in the side of your head somewhere.
Special mention must also go out to the the knife-sharpening mental instability of ‘Bulldozer Butterfly’ and the warped crash of the tea trays during penultimate track, ‘The Arts Of Exit’ (only joking lads).
As the album starts to make minimalist classical sense, so it reaches a truly dramatic crescendo – but whether it’s a touch of the avante-garde that you seek to hear, or a head-first plunge into hallucinogenic rapture, then this is on to hear. It really does shine on all fronts.
|
