This dinky 3 incher from FMG is less 'full on' than his previous release, but by no means lacking in essential va-va-voom. Flowing out with that silky smoothness of post production, you’d never have guessed this was recorded straight to mini-disc if it wasn’t printed on the back; the pace really intuitive, the sonics just falling pleasingly into place…
The disc starts with a Boyd Rice huskiness, the narration, stammering, stuttering, the edges slipping on a fizzy digitized synthesis. Percussive guillotines erupt, cutting out chunky hard edged beats between the industrial squelch / shear underlay. Hydraulics crashing through the speakers collapsing back into the lap of the narrator…
Caught in the Act is all tasty elasticised guitar, novelty pencil heads flicking yo yo signatures. Startled pulses of pixelated blues (could this be the title track?) overlaid by a hyperactive Beaker speed reading morse code.
Unwound, starts with a piano key interlude sucked through a series of plastic straws… tubular distortions stretching out on elastic. This is in turn, chewed over by the noise goblins zapping dirty great craters - slightly akin to SY’s ‘Starfield Road’ intro…as a muted chorus of gas escapes like the exhale of a 30’s ocean liner. Your eyes are literally everywhere, the tracks crammed with activity. Granny is choking on her false teeth as a parade of gyroscopic bubble bath is bending shapes and crumbling cans, throwing out grated backwash all over the Laundromat window like a sudsy horror-show.
That narcotic slip of the zither on the last track Confidential is lovely; a tumbling delay coupled with some crispy rasp from the industrial department… a roosting of metallic crows with a slight murmur of vocals. A semi melodic pleasure that fades out all too soon.
I like the way that Arabian chap (Hadji srifi?) on the cover looks like he’s playing Sponge-bob’s head, it some how makes perfect sense…but be warned world music fans, the sounds within could seriously upset your expectations for the better.
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