Realize that I love Prefuse 73. His kinetic, muscular, elastic, plundering, cacophonous, resplendent, visceral, hyper-tectonic, maximalist sound is awe-inspiring. There is rare a spot among his discography (despite some entries spending more time in my headphones than others) that don’t twirl me up into a meglomaniacal state of uber-gushery on his behalf. Flying Lotus has been making some records of note, of late, but Lotus has yet to reach the hierarchal status, in my mind, of hyper-electronica’s god-incarnate: Prefuse 73.
I feel even more comfortable in this position now, in light of The Only She Chapters.
In which our hero, Prefuse 73, sets his sensory-blitzing aesthetic into slow motion, allowing the moving parts -- bundles of gears and samples, crossbreeding flurries of interwoven, multi-material textiles, bushels of thickly painted voices, all set aflight with a murderous rage of dragons -- be seen and distinguished at a more manageable frame per second.
Thing is, it’s still a confoundingly impenetrable mess of enlightenment. No one does it quite like Prefuse 73.
PREFUSE 73 | The Only She Chapters | The Only Direction In Concrete
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