seven

Emre [Dark Matter] is a compelling collection of tracks dealing with "things that remains hidden and unconfirmed... without the presence of light... a place of fear from childhood to adulthood... the unknown." "Threshold" opens the proceedings appropriately, souRce research aligning the dark exploration with a collage of organic, rippling, imaginative flashes of electronic disparity, somehow woven into a singular piece. Cyclobe follows with "Silent Key," in which a voice emitting sounds of trepidation and confusion wanders aimlessly amidst scattered, humming discharges, brooding synths, and the fluttering, tinfoil wings of indecipherable insects; the insects drown in a static waterfall, leading to a lake of glimmering electronics, the cicada murmur of nightfall. Anxious, arching horns and a snippet of female vocals add to the dream-like trajectory of the track... and a rattling of the electronic forest, finally succumbing to a calm generator hum finale. Whew!

Andrew Poppy's sparse, uneasy piano plinks and plunks create a mood of uncertainty on the brittle "Blind Fold." Ragged fingernails scratch at the electronics of CoH's "Netmork," the dials of some anomalous radio spitting and snapping and lurking through gray matter radioscapes. It's as if the frequencies harbor a sentience of their own. Smoldering electronic embers bristle during the subtly unnerving "Fear (the scuffle of angels)," a pairing of souRce research and Leif Elggren. Through looped cadences and a multitude of imaginative textures (electronic itches are rubbed, not scratched; manipulated voice samples depict strange tales...), an impression of discomfort overwhelms.

Loops of twitchy, needle-thin, piercing electronics introduce Coil's "Broken Aura," followed by an illusory recitation: "As I fell into the water, I slipped and broke my aura." What ensues is an hallucinatory trek through a restless mind, a harrowing nightmare of disperse sonic elements that slow to a crawl, and crawl into a corner, seeking refuge from the fathomless dark pool into which it has precariously plunged. Ovum's "Inonia" utilizes a flood of streamlined static on the surface, while underneath, looped sounds of dread and suspicion skulk along the jagged rim; as the background rises to the fore, a windstorm of agitated electronics swirls uncontrollably, upending the taut currents of static. Closure is attained as souRce research leads us into a machinery loop landscape of moistly percolating squiggly tones during "Dark Of Heartness ii." Closure, but no peace, as the dark sonic exhibition that is Emre [Dark Matter] lingers, ever insistent that I push play again. Wonderful, tantalizing electronic sonicscapes!