Meathole
With Planet Mu finding some serious form recently through the likes of VEX'D and Exile, relative veterans like Aaron Funk (aka Venetian Snares) are finding the need to keep quality sky-high an ever more pressing concern. Thankfully 'Meat Hole' suggests that the Venetian Snares desk won't be cleared anytime soon. Eschewing the symphonies of his last album 'Rossz Csillag Alatt Szuletett', 'Meat Hole' is a return to the dank and disturbing breakcore of classic Snares work, with a record apparently made under a leaden sky of "devil worship and murder". Oh my. Opening with the rotating razor beats of 'Anguish', Funk really chucks everything into the pot, with a result that'll take your face off. As fierce as Hrvataski and with the mischievous claustrophobia of KarlMarxStadt, Funk continues with the knee-capping hot coals of 'Choprite', wherein the whole thing thrashes about as if trying to buck the rampant beats from its back. More relentless than a virile bout of Leishmaniasis, Funk doesn't readily provide respite; but that's not what you listen to the Snares for. Elsewhere, 'Contain' is like Star Wars as seen through the eyes of a beat demented nutter, 'Szycag' ropes some Plastikman into the equation and 'Sinthasomphone' goes for the jugular...via the cochlea of course. Whilst some may say it's a step backwards from his recent work, 'Meat Hole' is best enjoyed as a sensor f*cking descent into a beat ruptured Armageddon.
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With Planet Mu finding some serious form recently through the likes of VEX'D and Exile, relative veterans like Aaron Funk (aka Venetian Snares) are finding the need to keep quality sky-high an ever more pressing concern. Thankfully 'Meat Hole' suggests that the Venetian Snares desk won't be cleared anytime soon. Eschewing the symphonies of his last album 'Rossz Csillag Alatt Szuletett', 'Meat Hole' is a return to the dank and disturbing breakcore of classic Snares work, with a record apparently made under a leaden sky of "devil worship and murder". Oh my. Opening with the rotating razor beats of 'Anguish', Funk really chucks everything into the pot, with a result that'll take your face off. As fierce as Hrvataski and with the mischievous claustrophobia of KarlMarxStadt, Funk continues with the knee-capping hot coals of 'Choprite', wherein the whole thing thrashes about as if trying to buck the rampant beats from its back. More relentless than a virile bout of Leishmaniasis, Funk doesn't readily provide respite; but that's not what you listen to the Snares for. Elsewhere, 'Contain' is like Star Wars as seen through the eyes of a beat demented nutter, 'Szycag' ropes some Plastikman into the equation and 'Sinthasomphone' goes for the jugular...via the cochlea of course. Whilst some may say it's a step backwards from his recent work, 'Meat Hole' is best enjoyed as a sensor f*cking descent into a beat ruptured Armageddon.
With Planet Mu finding some serious form recently through the likes of VEX'D and Exile, relative veterans like Aaron Funk (aka Venetian Snares) are finding the need to keep quality sky-high an ever more pressing concern. Thankfully 'Meat Hole' suggests that the Venetian Snares desk won't be cleared anytime soon. Eschewing the symphonies of his last album 'Rossz Csillag Alatt Szuletett', 'Meat Hole' is a return to the dank and disturbing breakcore of classic Snares work, with a record apparently made under a leaden sky of "devil worship and murder". Oh my. Opening with the rotating razor beats of 'Anguish', Funk really chucks everything into the pot, with a result that'll take your face off. As fierce as Hrvataski and with the mischievous claustrophobia of KarlMarxStadt, Funk continues with the knee-capping hot coals of 'Choprite', wherein the whole thing thrashes about as if trying to buck the rampant beats from its back. More relentless than a virile bout of Leishmaniasis, Funk doesn't readily provide respite; but that's not what you listen to the Snares for. Elsewhere, 'Contain' is like Star Wars as seen through the eyes of a beat demented nutter, 'Szycag' ropes some Plastikman into the equation and 'Sinthasomphone' goes for the jugular...via the cochlea of course. Whilst some may say it's a step backwards from his recent work, 'Meat Hole' is best enjoyed as a sensor f*cking descent into a beat ruptured Armageddon.