Campbell Kneale graces us with 24 minutes of audio violence, the latest transmission from his current incarnation Our Love Will Destroy The World. Building on the promise left behind by the mighty Birchville Cat Motel on albums like "Chi Vampires" (coincidentally one of my favorite records EVER) and "Curved Surface Destroyer", "Blondesummer Snowqueen" wastes zero time in showing its hand, growing to a total roar within 30 seconds and not letting up one iota throughout its short, brutal runtime. This is the sound of every Slayer riff collapsing, of all of Sonic Youth's amps blowing all at once, of Merzbow's most melodic dreams becoming reality in a blur of wheezed out sound decay and volume worship. This is sound totally fetishized and called forth for the sake of destroying any eardrum it might come across, enthralling those few strong enough to withstand the onslaught. It just rolls right over you, never stopping, single-minded in its quest for auditory raze. All this comes from a little hut in New Zealand, from a mild-mannered school teacher with a professed love of Judas Priest and a desire to "just make beautiful music." To the right ears, yes, this is completely beautiful, a painting in a thousand colours, a symphony of a million tones, a gateway to some other place where everything makes so much more sense and where experience and the present are the only things that matter. It's a tour de force of modern composition, a master demonstration in layering, but fuck, Kneale's been doing this for years. Do you really need me to tell you this is fucking amazing?
Saturday, January 23, 2010
OUR LOVE WILL DESTROY THE WORLD "BLONDESUMMER SNOWQUEEN" (Don't Fuck With Magic)
Campbell Kneale graces us with 24 minutes of audio violence, the latest transmission from his current incarnation Our Love Will Destroy The World. Building on the promise left behind by the mighty Birchville Cat Motel on albums like "Chi Vampires" (coincidentally one of my favorite records EVER) and "Curved Surface Destroyer", "Blondesummer Snowqueen" wastes zero time in showing its hand, growing to a total roar within 30 seconds and not letting up one iota throughout its short, brutal runtime. This is the sound of every Slayer riff collapsing, of all of Sonic Youth's amps blowing all at once, of Merzbow's most melodic dreams becoming reality in a blur of wheezed out sound decay and volume worship. This is sound totally fetishized and called forth for the sake of destroying any eardrum it might come across, enthralling those few strong enough to withstand the onslaught. It just rolls right over you, never stopping, single-minded in its quest for auditory raze. All this comes from a little hut in New Zealand, from a mild-mannered school teacher with a professed love of Judas Priest and a desire to "just make beautiful music." To the right ears, yes, this is completely beautiful, a painting in a thousand colours, a symphony of a million tones, a gateway to some other place where everything makes so much more sense and where experience and the present are the only things that matter. It's a tour de force of modern composition, a master demonstration in layering, but fuck, Kneale's been doing this for years. Do you really need me to tell you this is fucking amazing?
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