“When music is folded back on itself in quick, frictive turns, a big erotic mirror starts flashing and the whole field of sound appears behind you like a pond where everything is connected physically and touching one bit of algae gives you a tingly tingle that implies another tingly tingler miles away. The muchness rockets geometrically into extra muchness, leading you to believe that this is how music is to be heard, always: in a big sticky, ecstatic cloud.”
“Scratchy screams fight across the stereo panning, drums play catch-up with the guitar line that taunted it in the first place, and a steady bassline does its best to hold things together down low– until it just can’t take it anymore, and must join the guitar for a unison breakdown.”
“Here’s a new dis: one of my biggest problems with The Mae Shi is that I can imagine being in their band.”
“Carson must have been hired on a dare, ’cause that dude has negative charisma. Gideon isn’t much more appealing, but at least it seems like he took a course or two in broadcasting. I have to say Carson, for the cringe factor.”
“Angel Alanis may be the greatest American house DJ/producer. His live set is tweaky and swirly (like this remix), while his techno production shouldn’t go overlooked. Long live the Chicago sound!”
“And then there’s the troubling title track, which fills out the EP with 52 minutes, every one less necessary than the last, of sputtering sine-wave skree . . . “
“Is this music? Sounds like a computer getting raped by aliens. “
