Vaudeville comes to computer world in this rip-roaring skeddadle through kinetic digital smash ups and warty dissonance from the ever-brilliant Orange Milk label. Koeosaeme, aka producer and Yellow Magic Orchestra collaborator Ryu Yoshizawa, deploys cut and splice techniques reminiscent of musique concrète to stich together these delirious jags and goofball outbursts, his sound palette mashing digital and analogue sources together in glorious splurging hybridity.
Across 13 tracks, pitched-down vocal snippets chase fizzling circuit crunch and subterranean whoomf around collapsing Minecraft landscapes. The cheeky wafts of flute on ‘m-face’ skip through crushing jackhammer stomps like Bugs Bunny chasing Eric Dolphy through Berghain with a power drill and a soldering iron. In ‘Point’, the morse code dripsody is totally unbothered by the hectic garble that erupts, periodically, in between its nervy chatters. ‘Synched’ even mashes some free improv astringency into the chip-tune warble and thumping white noise.
Yoshizawa’s meticulous arrangements do their best to look slipshod, their teetering chaos cunningly assembled to fool unwary listeners into thinking they’ve been slapped together by a zonked goober at the noise show who just wants to troll the Wall addicts with a full-on Technicolor catastrophe. But you know that ain’t so, right? On tracks like ‘Meat Symmetry’, each splotch and heave slots together in polyhedral symmetry, forming a multidimensional entity whose perfection is ungraspable until it’s not there anymore and you suddenly realise what you’re missing. Better just click back and ride the lightning all over again.