Cafe Kino - Thursday 21st March 2013
Dsic was plying this lush clash of prickly textures as we got down into the cellar of the Kino... Already mid flow creating a satisfying scramble of rhythm blocks squibbing an '80s pinball death race of collision... half heard radio chewed up and spit roasted on mouth mic(ed) feedback. Curved over the Mac Book a diluted wash of Quink highlighting his face, locked in total concentration as nibble fingers released an abstract goo of lush corrupted peaks and howling cyber hooligans. New shapes incubated in centrifuges of rough disco, an acrid centipedal giggling of cubic, sawing triangles and other geometric javelins... foreign voices... Lantern-like perceptions, broken down in a rash of machine language, plenty of mysterious ciphers that will burn for centuries to come...
Stu and Durgan's set was steeped in sci-fi flora and squeaky fits n spurts.... Trance-like butters of phonic blur. A conversation that seemed to slur around in an alcoholic stupor full of percussive jellyfish and avant ping-pong. Gorgeous radio injection and cassette fodder traversing a glitchy simmer of tactile modulation, diving into hypnotic gashes of rhythm. The final curtain to some mighty hemispheric play... These two have just got to make an album together!
Never heard of Rhodri Davies before... and wasn't prepared for the blizzard of wow that ensued... That souped up amplified roar coming from the tiniest of harps producing a glare, all mantra stitched, that shook you from the very foundations. A barbed brutality that totally satisfied, sounded like a JCB scraping out of Tom Waits' throat... apathy annihilation in distorted dulcimer like twang that seemed to be buried in shaking fists... I'm surprised Davies didn't break more strings, the man was siphoning some truly demonic energies...
Dsic was plying this lush clash of prickly textures as we got down into the cellar of the Kino... Already mid flow creating a satisfying scramble of rhythm blocks squibbing an '80s pinball death race of collision... half heard radio chewed up and spit roasted on mouth mic(ed) feedback. Curved over the Mac Book a diluted wash of Quink highlighting his face, locked in total concentration as nibble fingers released an abstract goo of lush corrupted peaks and howling cyber hooligans. New shapes incubated in centrifuges of rough disco, an acrid centipedal giggling of cubic, sawing triangles and other geometric javelins... foreign voices... Lantern-like perceptions, broken down in a rash of machine language, plenty of mysterious ciphers that will burn for centuries to come...
Stu and Durgan's set was steeped in sci-fi flora and squeaky fits n spurts.... Trance-like butters of phonic blur. A conversation that seemed to slur around in an alcoholic stupor full of percussive jellyfish and avant ping-pong. Gorgeous radio injection and cassette fodder traversing a glitchy simmer of tactile modulation, diving into hypnotic gashes of rhythm. The final curtain to some mighty hemispheric play... These two have just got to make an album together!
Never heard of Rhodri Davies before... and wasn't prepared for the blizzard of wow that ensued... That souped up amplified roar coming from the tiniest of harps producing a glare, all mantra stitched, that shook you from the very foundations. A barbed brutality that totally satisfied, sounded like a JCB scraping out of Tom Waits' throat... apathy annihilation in distorted dulcimer like twang that seemed to be buried in shaking fists... I'm surprised Davies didn't break more strings, the man was siphoning some truly demonic energies...
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