Doggy Bag

Picture yourselves abandoned in a room full of loudspeakers welcoming you with the amassed sounds of a thousand locked vinyl grooves (no, we’re not sure that this is the source). An inharmonic heap that crackles and fries, but somehow also rumbles and thumps – at least inside the skull. Hands Off amounts to over 55 minutes of this treatment, completely devoid of human presence (the series to which this recording belongs is called “No Touching!”). The equipment – whatever it is – moves alone, thinks independently and produces materials useful for generating states of complete mental numbness. In times of highly conceptual “art” to be “admired” under the sacred clothes of “developed perceptiveness”, here comes something that neither asks nor explains, like it or not. No sophisticated indications for the awakening of one’s wisdom, no alleviating resonances. No bullshit of any kind. Just this crepitating armada that goes on and on, gradually excluding the listener from the rest of the (apparently) active world.

So, leave the arcane interpretations to the philostophers and crank loud enough. The owners of a nice set of headphones could even be healed from headache with this. Frequencies do not need people to express themselves, especially when their polyphonic narrative is distant from everyday’s ordinariness. As scientifically camouflaged as it can be.

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