Łukasz Ciszak: guitar, baritone guitar, bass, field recordings
Influenced by a couple of stays in the US, during which he was affected by the evangelist televisions perpetually talking about the approaching ending of everything, Ciszak attempts to represent his impression of being the beholder of a forthcoming Armageddon through a pair of extended improvisations, on occasion interspersed with metropolitan echoes (TV again, children at play, road talk and so on). The climate is pitch-black, foreboding even in the quietest condition, such as the record’s very opening; clean picking and undistorted tones unwrap a predilection for non-consonant jangling and not exactly rosy shards of phrase. When the thicker strings of the bass and the baritone guitar come out and the mix changes state, turning into a drenched mass of overdriven layers and hectically unruly loops, we see what the Polish guitarist had in mind. The droning becomes consuming, the monolithic chords deadly grating. The cumulus of low frequencies takes command, and – with the exclusion of a few minutes of recess in “DC” – the whole roars until unequivocal mayhem, as the listener is ultimately left – without oxygen – in befogged muteness. Earnest sonic grimness, as we always acquire from this clever man.
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