Man With the Magic Soap
Nads out experi-metal gnarl by none other than Blawan & Pariah as Persher, debuting a surprising volte-face from their technoid club gear to exorcize demons akin The Body, O.L.D., $hit & $hine, Wold/Fauchion
While not a total departure from the heavy energies of their Pariah works or Blawan’s solo shots, we’d wager techno DJs, proper, won’t get away with dropping the beastly forms of ‘Man With the Magic Soap’ in the middle of a set unless they want to invoke the wrath of the business techno crowd’s solicitors. In its seven white-hot prongs they congeal modular electronics with hairy, carbuncled guitars, ork-pummelled percussion and possessed, processed vocals in a lurching swagger that dredges up memories of metal and “alternative” clubnights from the dankest recesses of our memory circa the last ‘90s/early ‘00s.
It’s a vicious fantasy of mutant metal alloyed with their wider-ranging tastes, surging up with the thrashing nu-metal rage of its title tune and running the voodoo down across the caged beast of ‘Calf’, to warped speed/grindcore in ‘Ten Tiny Teeth’, Marilyn Manson-esque glam swag in ‘World Sandwiches 2’, and buzzsaw cybergrind in ‘Face To Face Cloth’, and a puddle of muck on the deeply unusual synthesis of styles in ‘Patch of Wet Ground’. Caveat emptor; it’s.definitely.not.techno! But it is a lot of fun.
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Nads out experi-metal gnarl by none other than Blawan & Pariah as Persher, debuting a surprising volte-face from their technoid club gear to exorcize demons akin The Body, O.L.D., $hit & $hine, Wold/Fauchion
While not a total departure from the heavy energies of their Pariah works or Blawan’s solo shots, we’d wager techno DJs, proper, won’t get away with dropping the beastly forms of ‘Man With the Magic Soap’ in the middle of a set unless they want to invoke the wrath of the business techno crowd’s solicitors. In its seven white-hot prongs they congeal modular electronics with hairy, carbuncled guitars, ork-pummelled percussion and possessed, processed vocals in a lurching swagger that dredges up memories of metal and “alternative” clubnights from the dankest recesses of our memory circa the last ‘90s/early ‘00s.
It’s a vicious fantasy of mutant metal alloyed with their wider-ranging tastes, surging up with the thrashing nu-metal rage of its title tune and running the voodoo down across the caged beast of ‘Calf’, to warped speed/grindcore in ‘Ten Tiny Teeth’, Marilyn Manson-esque glam swag in ‘World Sandwiches 2’, and buzzsaw cybergrind in ‘Face To Face Cloth’, and a puddle of muck on the deeply unusual synthesis of styles in ‘Patch of Wet Ground’. Caveat emptor; it’s.definitely.not.techno! But it is a lot of fun.
24 bit / 48 kHz
Nads out experi-metal gnarl by none other than Blawan & Pariah as Persher, debuting a surprising volte-face from their technoid club gear to exorcize demons akin The Body, O.L.D., $hit & $hine, Wold/Fauchion
While not a total departure from the heavy energies of their Pariah works or Blawan’s solo shots, we’d wager techno DJs, proper, won’t get away with dropping the beastly forms of ‘Man With the Magic Soap’ in the middle of a set unless they want to invoke the wrath of the business techno crowd’s solicitors. In its seven white-hot prongs they congeal modular electronics with hairy, carbuncled guitars, ork-pummelled percussion and possessed, processed vocals in a lurching swagger that dredges up memories of metal and “alternative” clubnights from the dankest recesses of our memory circa the last ‘90s/early ‘00s.
It’s a vicious fantasy of mutant metal alloyed with their wider-ranging tastes, surging up with the thrashing nu-metal rage of its title tune and running the voodoo down across the caged beast of ‘Calf’, to warped speed/grindcore in ‘Ten Tiny Teeth’, Marilyn Manson-esque glam swag in ‘World Sandwiches 2’, and buzzsaw cybergrind in ‘Face To Face Cloth’, and a puddle of muck on the deeply unusual synthesis of styles in ‘Patch of Wet Ground’. Caveat emptor; it’s.definitely.not.techno! But it is a lot of fun.
24 bit / 48 kHz
Nads out experi-metal gnarl by none other than Blawan & Pariah as Persher, debuting a surprising volte-face from their technoid club gear to exorcize demons akin The Body, O.L.D., $hit & $hine, Wold/Fauchion
While not a total departure from the heavy energies of their Pariah works or Blawan’s solo shots, we’d wager techno DJs, proper, won’t get away with dropping the beastly forms of ‘Man With the Magic Soap’ in the middle of a set unless they want to invoke the wrath of the business techno crowd’s solicitors. In its seven white-hot prongs they congeal modular electronics with hairy, carbuncled guitars, ork-pummelled percussion and possessed, processed vocals in a lurching swagger that dredges up memories of metal and “alternative” clubnights from the dankest recesses of our memory circa the last ‘90s/early ‘00s.
It’s a vicious fantasy of mutant metal alloyed with their wider-ranging tastes, surging up with the thrashing nu-metal rage of its title tune and running the voodoo down across the caged beast of ‘Calf’, to warped speed/grindcore in ‘Ten Tiny Teeth’, Marilyn Manson-esque glam swag in ‘World Sandwiches 2’, and buzzsaw cybergrind in ‘Face To Face Cloth’, and a puddle of muck on the deeply unusual synthesis of styles in ‘Patch of Wet Ground’. Caveat emptor; it’s.definitely.not.techno! But it is a lot of fun.
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Nads out experi-metal gnarl by none other than Blawan & Pariah as Persher, debuting a surprising volte-face from their technoid club gear to exorcize demons akin The Body, O.L.D., $hit & $hine, Wold/Fauchion
While not a total departure from the heavy energies of their Pariah works or Blawan’s solo shots, we’d wager techno DJs, proper, won’t get away with dropping the beastly forms of ‘Man With the Magic Soap’ in the middle of a set unless they want to invoke the wrath of the business techno crowd’s solicitors. In its seven white-hot prongs they congeal modular electronics with hairy, carbuncled guitars, ork-pummelled percussion and possessed, processed vocals in a lurching swagger that dredges up memories of metal and “alternative” clubnights from the dankest recesses of our memory circa the last ‘90s/early ‘00s.
It’s a vicious fantasy of mutant metal alloyed with their wider-ranging tastes, surging up with the thrashing nu-metal rage of its title tune and running the voodoo down across the caged beast of ‘Calf’, to warped speed/grindcore in ‘Ten Tiny Teeth’, Marilyn Manson-esque glam swag in ‘World Sandwiches 2’, and buzzsaw cybergrind in ‘Face To Face Cloth’, and a puddle of muck on the deeply unusual synthesis of styles in ‘Patch of Wet Ground’. Caveat emptor; it’s.definitely.not.techno! But it is a lot of fun.