Something’s coming. It’s cold, and rusting, and dark. You can’t quite make it out, over there in the shadows. Is it real? Are you awake, or just dreaming? Or are you dreaming of lying here in bed, looking at that damp mouldy corner of the room? The one you always meant to get treated. The one with the weird stain. The one that’s cold all the time. The one that seems to be moving.
But if you’re dreaming, it’ll stop, right? You’ll wake up in a minute and it will be morning, the sun will be streaming in through the window (although it’s weird, that corner never seems to get any light or warmth).
But you haven’t woken up yet, and the … shadow is still there. It’s starting to feel freaking now. There’s a tense feeling in your guts and you feel cold and sweaty.
You can’t stop peering at that corner in the dark. In fact, it seems to be getting bigger. And there’s that harsh sound, like something heavy and rusting scraping across the floor.
Why can’t you turn away? As you stare helplessly into the darkness, your eyes start to pick out odd details. Glints of metal. Light, from the street lamps outside, glints off a flat surface. But is that fur?
Then you hear it. Like background noise at first but, once you hear it, you can’t ignore it. A chorus of voices, hissing, sighing. Entreating. Pleading. They want you to come. ‘Please enter our world’, they’re whispering. You start to feel sick, a heavy, queasy feeling in your guts. You’re sweating.
But there’s more. Underneath it, underneath the fear and the vomit, you know you want to go to them. ‘You must trust in me,’ says a voice, louder than the rest. And you know it’s right.
If only you could run.
(OK, for those of you who are immune to my literary pretensions, here’s some information about this album in a more conventional format.
Produced by the Italian sound artist Rosa Maria Sarri under her Moon Ra alias, this is a set of eight electronic tracks, released on cassette by Witclub.net tapes. that explore the eerie territory of science fiction and horror.
The pieces themselves are dark and claustrophobic, ranging from structureless scrapes and buzzes, such as the looming musique concrete of Run Baby Run, through to more beat-driven pieces.
Mr Denton on Doomsday is a current favourite of these, a sinister and pulsing work propelled by echoing, rattling percussion like some Cabaret Voltaire out-take. Broadcast Nightmare deploys a sluggish techno thud against a backdrop of shifting drones, summoning up a sense of shuffling horror, while some good old Boards of Canada-style corroded synth arpeggios are barfed up by The Eye of The Beholder.
All of this is just an entrée for the 10-minute noise terror show that is U Must Trust In Me. As overwhelming as its title suggests, this is pure evil will, a multi-tentacled subterranean fuck-up, marching out of the caves under the earth to spread fire and gibbering hatred across the fair lands.
In case you hand’t guessed, I really like it.)
Get it here: http://witclub.bandcamp.com/album/the-twilight-tone
Read my review of Sarri’s album of ambient pieces inspired by Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, released under her Marie e le Rose / MonoLogue alias, here.