Monday, November 5, 2007

Supersilent - 8

(10.2007, Rune Grammofon)

Supersilent have always reminded me of free jazz robots (of which I am an expert), with their mechanically wrought experimentalism and numerical labeling. After a near 5 year hiatus from the release of 6 (the DVD release, 7, not included), the group has finally released their latest studio album, wait for it…8. Predictable album and track titling aside, Supersilent continues its knack for inventive, challenging music. Something of an epic (we are talking about Supersilent here), I am just going to take this one track by track: The opener, "8.1" is a slow building wave of skittery distortion that takes more time than usual to sink its teeth in, but ends with a satisfactory grind. The voluminous weight of the sound is contrasted starkly by the immediately following tracks. "8.2" wanders lengthily, a little overly minimalistic for its own good and is followed by "8.3" which starts similarly but is eventually addled with mindless drums and a laser skronk climax. "8.4" dips again into sparse, low volume drone before gradually emerging trumpet and dim percussion save the lull and eventually peak with a brief synth line. It is at this point that the album begins to shed a bit of its metallic skin and capture some narrative. "8.5" returns to the distress of the opener with an incoherent android incantation (cursed jazz robots) prior to releasing some synthetic wooziness and pleasant guitar ruminations. Adding scrupulously planned layers and morphing beautifully, "8.5" turns the album on its top with a soft hand of slowly redemptive chords oscillating wonderfully to the addition of some incredibly delicious drumming. The surprising arrival of emotive composition seems to fry the inner robotic circuitry of 8, sending "8.6" into dizzying glitch electronic spasms. The clutter is empathetically overseen by an angelic voice, primitively swooning over the rubble, but never reassembling it. The impending destruction is blindsiding. "8.7" bursts at the seams spewing forth a blitzkrieg of fiery indignation. The contortions swell madly; bubbling over with intensity, deleting all previous notions of minimalism with is disparaging display. Completing the wild rollercoaster, "8.8" is a short reflection the waste laid of a gregariously malfunctioned beast. While 8 defiantly tests your patience, the exquisite adventure would be tragic to miss.

-Mr. Thistle

Listen to clips from 8 on Boomkat

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