Head X'Change
Brooklyn experimental mainstay R.A. Jones and Aussie producer/songwriter David West reconvene on 'Head X'Change', a hazed but uneasy box of ferric delights that obscures gossamer guitar melodies behind crackly static charges, dub FX and knobbled, lopsided rhythms.
Scythe appeared back in 2019, releasing two ultra-limited tapes before disappearing once more into the ether they emerged from. 'Head X'Change' is their triumphant return, upsetting their DIY-meets-kosmische formula with bedraggled beats and nervous, hesitant textures. It's convenient to label Scythe's music as ambient, but there's far more to 'Head X'Change' than that. There's an outline of Christian Fennesz's best early gear on 'Tennessee' as Jones and West mangle their euphoric guitar tones with busted radio fuzz and blinkered glitches, and echoes of vintage dub and contemporary rap forms on the skeletal 'Dawngarden'. And although 'Genevieve' harmonizes with Brian Eno's 'Apollo' era - those pads, right? - Scythe's adherence to DIY/basement logic puts them a few paces away from the wider laptop ambient set.
The duo sound as if they're dubbing each sonic element to stretched-out cassette tape, then looping it through an arsenal of vintage delays; it's not lo-fi, exactly, but it's intentionally crusted, with each noisy layer adding to the kaleidoscopic whole. Even on 'Embryo', a cautious, emotionally charred haze of soothing pads and rumbling bass, Jones and West interrupt the expected Basinski-esque churn with naive, cheapo organ hits that wake you from the dream. And the mood pivots on 'Mark, Ring Me', when ghostly choirs dissociate into echoed-out static prangs and stuttering, insectoid glitches. Smeared, queasy goodness.
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Brooklyn experimental mainstay R.A. Jones and Aussie producer/songwriter David West reconvene on 'Head X'Change', a hazed but uneasy box of ferric delights that obscures gossamer guitar melodies behind crackly static charges, dub FX and knobbled, lopsided rhythms.
Scythe appeared back in 2019, releasing two ultra-limited tapes before disappearing once more into the ether they emerged from. 'Head X'Change' is their triumphant return, upsetting their DIY-meets-kosmische formula with bedraggled beats and nervous, hesitant textures. It's convenient to label Scythe's music as ambient, but there's far more to 'Head X'Change' than that. There's an outline of Christian Fennesz's best early gear on 'Tennessee' as Jones and West mangle their euphoric guitar tones with busted radio fuzz and blinkered glitches, and echoes of vintage dub and contemporary rap forms on the skeletal 'Dawngarden'. And although 'Genevieve' harmonizes with Brian Eno's 'Apollo' era - those pads, right? - Scythe's adherence to DIY/basement logic puts them a few paces away from the wider laptop ambient set.
The duo sound as if they're dubbing each sonic element to stretched-out cassette tape, then looping it through an arsenal of vintage delays; it's not lo-fi, exactly, but it's intentionally crusted, with each noisy layer adding to the kaleidoscopic whole. Even on 'Embryo', a cautious, emotionally charred haze of soothing pads and rumbling bass, Jones and West interrupt the expected Basinski-esque churn with naive, cheapo organ hits that wake you from the dream. And the mood pivots on 'Mark, Ring Me', when ghostly choirs dissociate into echoed-out static prangs and stuttering, insectoid glitches. Smeared, queasy goodness.
Brooklyn experimental mainstay R.A. Jones and Aussie producer/songwriter David West reconvene on 'Head X'Change', a hazed but uneasy box of ferric delights that obscures gossamer guitar melodies behind crackly static charges, dub FX and knobbled, lopsided rhythms.
Scythe appeared back in 2019, releasing two ultra-limited tapes before disappearing once more into the ether they emerged from. 'Head X'Change' is their triumphant return, upsetting their DIY-meets-kosmische formula with bedraggled beats and nervous, hesitant textures. It's convenient to label Scythe's music as ambient, but there's far more to 'Head X'Change' than that. There's an outline of Christian Fennesz's best early gear on 'Tennessee' as Jones and West mangle their euphoric guitar tones with busted radio fuzz and blinkered glitches, and echoes of vintage dub and contemporary rap forms on the skeletal 'Dawngarden'. And although 'Genevieve' harmonizes with Brian Eno's 'Apollo' era - those pads, right? - Scythe's adherence to DIY/basement logic puts them a few paces away from the wider laptop ambient set.
The duo sound as if they're dubbing each sonic element to stretched-out cassette tape, then looping it through an arsenal of vintage delays; it's not lo-fi, exactly, but it's intentionally crusted, with each noisy layer adding to the kaleidoscopic whole. Even on 'Embryo', a cautious, emotionally charred haze of soothing pads and rumbling bass, Jones and West interrupt the expected Basinski-esque churn with naive, cheapo organ hits that wake you from the dream. And the mood pivots on 'Mark, Ring Me', when ghostly choirs dissociate into echoed-out static prangs and stuttering, insectoid glitches. Smeared, queasy goodness.
Brooklyn experimental mainstay R.A. Jones and Aussie producer/songwriter David West reconvene on 'Head X'Change', a hazed but uneasy box of ferric delights that obscures gossamer guitar melodies behind crackly static charges, dub FX and knobbled, lopsided rhythms.
Scythe appeared back in 2019, releasing two ultra-limited tapes before disappearing once more into the ether they emerged from. 'Head X'Change' is their triumphant return, upsetting their DIY-meets-kosmische formula with bedraggled beats and nervous, hesitant textures. It's convenient to label Scythe's music as ambient, but there's far more to 'Head X'Change' than that. There's an outline of Christian Fennesz's best early gear on 'Tennessee' as Jones and West mangle their euphoric guitar tones with busted radio fuzz and blinkered glitches, and echoes of vintage dub and contemporary rap forms on the skeletal 'Dawngarden'. And although 'Genevieve' harmonizes with Brian Eno's 'Apollo' era - those pads, right? - Scythe's adherence to DIY/basement logic puts them a few paces away from the wider laptop ambient set.
The duo sound as if they're dubbing each sonic element to stretched-out cassette tape, then looping it through an arsenal of vintage delays; it's not lo-fi, exactly, but it's intentionally crusted, with each noisy layer adding to the kaleidoscopic whole. Even on 'Embryo', a cautious, emotionally charred haze of soothing pads and rumbling bass, Jones and West interrupt the expected Basinski-esque churn with naive, cheapo organ hits that wake you from the dream. And the mood pivots on 'Mark, Ring Me', when ghostly choirs dissociate into echoed-out static prangs and stuttering, insectoid glitches. Smeared, queasy goodness.
LP with double sided insert sleeve and postcard.
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Brooklyn experimental mainstay R.A. Jones and Aussie producer/songwriter David West reconvene on 'Head X'Change', a hazed but uneasy box of ferric delights that obscures gossamer guitar melodies behind crackly static charges, dub FX and knobbled, lopsided rhythms.
Scythe appeared back in 2019, releasing two ultra-limited tapes before disappearing once more into the ether they emerged from. 'Head X'Change' is their triumphant return, upsetting their DIY-meets-kosmische formula with bedraggled beats and nervous, hesitant textures. It's convenient to label Scythe's music as ambient, but there's far more to 'Head X'Change' than that. There's an outline of Christian Fennesz's best early gear on 'Tennessee' as Jones and West mangle their euphoric guitar tones with busted radio fuzz and blinkered glitches, and echoes of vintage dub and contemporary rap forms on the skeletal 'Dawngarden'. And although 'Genevieve' harmonizes with Brian Eno's 'Apollo' era - those pads, right? - Scythe's adherence to DIY/basement logic puts them a few paces away from the wider laptop ambient set.
The duo sound as if they're dubbing each sonic element to stretched-out cassette tape, then looping it through an arsenal of vintage delays; it's not lo-fi, exactly, but it's intentionally crusted, with each noisy layer adding to the kaleidoscopic whole. Even on 'Embryo', a cautious, emotionally charred haze of soothing pads and rumbling bass, Jones and West interrupt the expected Basinski-esque churn with naive, cheapo organ hits that wake you from the dream. And the mood pivots on 'Mark, Ring Me', when ghostly choirs dissociate into echoed-out static prangs and stuttering, insectoid glitches. Smeared, queasy goodness.