Album: Harmfulmelodics
Artist: Crepuscular Entity
Label: Basement Corner Emissions
Catalogue no: KV&GR/RECS #427
Tracklist:
1. Shiva
Agonistes
2. Engel’s
Tasting of the Hand that Fed Him.
3. Penitentiary
of the Core Mind
4. Quayside
Walk, Dark Waters
5. 10:00
PM Friday, a Bottle of Malbec, and a Vinyl Copy of the Mekons’ Honky Tonkin’
Some of us, and that
includes me, occasionally like to have their ears and sensibilities completely
shredded by blasts of seemingly unrefined, fierce noise. Crepuscular Entity’s Harmfulmelodics serves this purpose
rather well, and it left my ears and mind ringing with its raging abattoir aesthetic.
Here we have five lengthy tracks (the longest of which is 40 minutes!) of freeform
improvisation, creating huge chunks of raw noise-meat, bloodied and battered,
dripping with viscera, and unashamedly smelling of the fresh kill. Not for the
delicate of hearing or taste, these are not merely slabs of crude unprocessed
cacophony, but also physical steel blades and graters, sharp and ready to
slice, dice, and dismember.
It’s not hard to imagine
either standing in a blast furnace or in the midst of a nuclear detonation –
the smothering, claustrophobic blankets of nucleated, granular din paint a
vivid picture of vaporisation right down to the atomic level. This is the sound
your body makes as it disintegrates into its most basic molecular and cellular components,
and what’s worse is that your consciousness remains intact even as the
dissolution takes place, and your mind is unable to grasp just what’s happening
until it’s too late.
The barrage is
relentless, but having noted that there are nevertheless adornments and
highlights added here and there to render it all that much more
three-dimensional. Pain, grime, industrial decay, corruption, filth, oil and grease,
rusty machinery, tortured souls, and rebellious electronics: these are the
necessary ingredients of Crepuscular Entity’s elixir, a medicinal poison to
reduce all into an unidentifiable sludge and bone. This is the slaughterhouse
of civilisation, the clubhouse of the barbaric, the abattoir of moral codes and
social niceties. The hooks are sharp and buried deeply, the blades are
swinging, the blood flows freely, and we are turned to swill.
Unlike Merzbow, there’s a
different set of rules being followed here. It’s not a matter of being more or
less refined, or of being more polished or rough around the edges: it’s purely
a difference of approach, one which arrives at a specific destination. This is
in-the-moment creation, recorded and left as is, the only additions being those
which were added on the day - nothing else. This is more akin to an exorcism, a
cleansing, and an unleashing of controlled power, a catharsis meant to abate
something deep and angry. It’s extremely visceral, a force to be felt in the
pit of the stomach. This is as real as it gets.
Available from Bandcamp
at the following link:
Psymon Marshall 2019.
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