Sunik Kim's new album is a frantic conflation of giddy General MIDI instrumentation, homespun RPG fantasies and Henry Cow's inaccessible freeform improvisation. Cyborg music for the information age's dying gasps - RIYL Stockhausen, James Ferraro, Roland Kayn or Carl Stone.
Within seconds of the 23-minute opening side, Kim drags us into a sonic biodome powered by haphazard, fictile orchestral blasts, redlined, stuttering percussion and tinny, 16-bit videogame fanfares. It's not background music, let's just say that. There's something captivating about Kim's compositional process, not in its stylistic trickery, but in its unpredictable narrative that unfurls asymmetrically, linking various nodes and curling back on itself with tongue firmly in cheek. Gretchen Aury, aka The Ephemeron Loop, who handles the album's liner notes, says it best: "This sound is a blistering Electro Magnetic Pulse wave of revolutionary hope, exclaiming defiantly that History is not over, that the future is not 'history'."
'Potential' is computer music, but it's not boxed in by the form's academic limitations. Inspired by Henry Cow's slapstick anti-commercial experimentation, Kim pierces staid processes with bizarre tonal clusters and harmonic animation, staying a few feet from anything structurally resembling noise, but within the genre's orbit at all times. We're positioned right now on a timeline where computers and algorithms guide our "experience" whether we like it or not, and 'Potential' sounds as if it's a disruption agent, summing those same fragments of cultural entertainment and melting them into jagged, unrecognisable forms. Agitated piano rushes collapse over stormy, digital rainfall and surreal horns, heaving uncanny pipes bellow across microscopic facets that crack and disintegrate under the weight. It's virtuosic, beguiling and completely singular material that easily encapsulates the anxiety and uncertainty of late capitalism and the artistic cannibalism of the information age.
On the flip, 'Morning Star' is dizzier still, erupting in a meteor shower of digital noise, before tinny, triumphant blasts bellow into the foregroundm spitting out sounds at varying speeds through a wall of grotesque distortion. Kim's sound feels more like a kind of audio virus, chaotically synthesising an era that's characterized by an overabundance of information and access. Anything is possible, but we've been lulled into mediocrity; 'Potential' is a kind of exit hatch, a way to jump from the timeline and watch as themes and echoes are pulled into eldritch shapes, then reformed into almost familiar figures. It's fucking exhilarating.
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Sunik Kim's new album is a frantic conflation of giddy General MIDI instrumentation, homespun RPG fantasies and Henry Cow's inaccessible freeform improvisation. Cyborg music for the information age's dying gasps - RIYL Stockhausen, James Ferraro, Roland Kayn or Carl Stone.
Within seconds of the 23-minute opening side, Kim drags us into a sonic biodome powered by haphazard, fictile orchestral blasts, redlined, stuttering percussion and tinny, 16-bit videogame fanfares. It's not background music, let's just say that. There's something captivating about Kim's compositional process, not in its stylistic trickery, but in its unpredictable narrative that unfurls asymmetrically, linking various nodes and curling back on itself with tongue firmly in cheek. Gretchen Aury, aka The Ephemeron Loop, who handles the album's liner notes, says it best: "This sound is a blistering Electro Magnetic Pulse wave of revolutionary hope, exclaiming defiantly that History is not over, that the future is not 'history'."
'Potential' is computer music, but it's not boxed in by the form's academic limitations. Inspired by Henry Cow's slapstick anti-commercial experimentation, Kim pierces staid processes with bizarre tonal clusters and harmonic animation, staying a few feet from anything structurally resembling noise, but within the genre's orbit at all times. We're positioned right now on a timeline where computers and algorithms guide our "experience" whether we like it or not, and 'Potential' sounds as if it's a disruption agent, summing those same fragments of cultural entertainment and melting them into jagged, unrecognisable forms. Agitated piano rushes collapse over stormy, digital rainfall and surreal horns, heaving uncanny pipes bellow across microscopic facets that crack and disintegrate under the weight. It's virtuosic, beguiling and completely singular material that easily encapsulates the anxiety and uncertainty of late capitalism and the artistic cannibalism of the information age.
On the flip, 'Morning Star' is dizzier still, erupting in a meteor shower of digital noise, before tinny, triumphant blasts bellow into the foregroundm spitting out sounds at varying speeds through a wall of grotesque distortion. Kim's sound feels more like a kind of audio virus, chaotically synthesising an era that's characterized by an overabundance of information and access. Anything is possible, but we've been lulled into mediocrity; 'Potential' is a kind of exit hatch, a way to jump from the timeline and watch as themes and echoes are pulled into eldritch shapes, then reformed into almost familiar figures. It's fucking exhilarating.
Sunik Kim's new album is a frantic conflation of giddy General MIDI instrumentation, homespun RPG fantasies and Henry Cow's inaccessible freeform improvisation. Cyborg music for the information age's dying gasps - RIYL Stockhausen, James Ferraro, Roland Kayn or Carl Stone.
Within seconds of the 23-minute opening side, Kim drags us into a sonic biodome powered by haphazard, fictile orchestral blasts, redlined, stuttering percussion and tinny, 16-bit videogame fanfares. It's not background music, let's just say that. There's something captivating about Kim's compositional process, not in its stylistic trickery, but in its unpredictable narrative that unfurls asymmetrically, linking various nodes and curling back on itself with tongue firmly in cheek. Gretchen Aury, aka The Ephemeron Loop, who handles the album's liner notes, says it best: "This sound is a blistering Electro Magnetic Pulse wave of revolutionary hope, exclaiming defiantly that History is not over, that the future is not 'history'."
'Potential' is computer music, but it's not boxed in by the form's academic limitations. Inspired by Henry Cow's slapstick anti-commercial experimentation, Kim pierces staid processes with bizarre tonal clusters and harmonic animation, staying a few feet from anything structurally resembling noise, but within the genre's orbit at all times. We're positioned right now on a timeline where computers and algorithms guide our "experience" whether we like it or not, and 'Potential' sounds as if it's a disruption agent, summing those same fragments of cultural entertainment and melting them into jagged, unrecognisable forms. Agitated piano rushes collapse over stormy, digital rainfall and surreal horns, heaving uncanny pipes bellow across microscopic facets that crack and disintegrate under the weight. It's virtuosic, beguiling and completely singular material that easily encapsulates the anxiety and uncertainty of late capitalism and the artistic cannibalism of the information age.
On the flip, 'Morning Star' is dizzier still, erupting in a meteor shower of digital noise, before tinny, triumphant blasts bellow into the foregroundm spitting out sounds at varying speeds through a wall of grotesque distortion. Kim's sound feels more like a kind of audio virus, chaotically synthesising an era that's characterized by an overabundance of information and access. Anything is possible, but we've been lulled into mediocrity; 'Potential' is a kind of exit hatch, a way to jump from the timeline and watch as themes and echoes are pulled into eldritch shapes, then reformed into almost familiar figures. It's fucking exhilarating.
Sunik Kim's new album is a frantic conflation of giddy General MIDI instrumentation, homespun RPG fantasies and Henry Cow's inaccessible freeform improvisation. Cyborg music for the information age's dying gasps - RIYL Stockhausen, James Ferraro, Roland Kayn or Carl Stone.
Within seconds of the 23-minute opening side, Kim drags us into a sonic biodome powered by haphazard, fictile orchestral blasts, redlined, stuttering percussion and tinny, 16-bit videogame fanfares. It's not background music, let's just say that. There's something captivating about Kim's compositional process, not in its stylistic trickery, but in its unpredictable narrative that unfurls asymmetrically, linking various nodes and curling back on itself with tongue firmly in cheek. Gretchen Aury, aka The Ephemeron Loop, who handles the album's liner notes, says it best: "This sound is a blistering Electro Magnetic Pulse wave of revolutionary hope, exclaiming defiantly that History is not over, that the future is not 'history'."
'Potential' is computer music, but it's not boxed in by the form's academic limitations. Inspired by Henry Cow's slapstick anti-commercial experimentation, Kim pierces staid processes with bizarre tonal clusters and harmonic animation, staying a few feet from anything structurally resembling noise, but within the genre's orbit at all times. We're positioned right now on a timeline where computers and algorithms guide our "experience" whether we like it or not, and 'Potential' sounds as if it's a disruption agent, summing those same fragments of cultural entertainment and melting them into jagged, unrecognisable forms. Agitated piano rushes collapse over stormy, digital rainfall and surreal horns, heaving uncanny pipes bellow across microscopic facets that crack and disintegrate under the weight. It's virtuosic, beguiling and completely singular material that easily encapsulates the anxiety and uncertainty of late capitalism and the artistic cannibalism of the information age.
On the flip, 'Morning Star' is dizzier still, erupting in a meteor shower of digital noise, before tinny, triumphant blasts bellow into the foregroundm spitting out sounds at varying speeds through a wall of grotesque distortion. Kim's sound feels more like a kind of audio virus, chaotically synthesising an era that's characterized by an overabundance of information and access. Anything is possible, but we've been lulled into mediocrity; 'Potential' is a kind of exit hatch, a way to jump from the timeline and watch as themes and echoes are pulled into eldritch shapes, then reformed into almost familiar figures. It's fucking exhilarating.
Black vinyl LP.
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Sunik Kim's new album is a frantic conflation of giddy General MIDI instrumentation, homespun RPG fantasies and Henry Cow's inaccessible freeform improvisation. Cyborg music for the information age's dying gasps - RIYL Stockhausen, James Ferraro, Roland Kayn or Carl Stone.
Within seconds of the 23-minute opening side, Kim drags us into a sonic biodome powered by haphazard, fictile orchestral blasts, redlined, stuttering percussion and tinny, 16-bit videogame fanfares. It's not background music, let's just say that. There's something captivating about Kim's compositional process, not in its stylistic trickery, but in its unpredictable narrative that unfurls asymmetrically, linking various nodes and curling back on itself with tongue firmly in cheek. Gretchen Aury, aka The Ephemeron Loop, who handles the album's liner notes, says it best: "This sound is a blistering Electro Magnetic Pulse wave of revolutionary hope, exclaiming defiantly that History is not over, that the future is not 'history'."
'Potential' is computer music, but it's not boxed in by the form's academic limitations. Inspired by Henry Cow's slapstick anti-commercial experimentation, Kim pierces staid processes with bizarre tonal clusters and harmonic animation, staying a few feet from anything structurally resembling noise, but within the genre's orbit at all times. We're positioned right now on a timeline where computers and algorithms guide our "experience" whether we like it or not, and 'Potential' sounds as if it's a disruption agent, summing those same fragments of cultural entertainment and melting them into jagged, unrecognisable forms. Agitated piano rushes collapse over stormy, digital rainfall and surreal horns, heaving uncanny pipes bellow across microscopic facets that crack and disintegrate under the weight. It's virtuosic, beguiling and completely singular material that easily encapsulates the anxiety and uncertainty of late capitalism and the artistic cannibalism of the information age.
On the flip, 'Morning Star' is dizzier still, erupting in a meteor shower of digital noise, before tinny, triumphant blasts bellow into the foregroundm spitting out sounds at varying speeds through a wall of grotesque distortion. Kim's sound feels more like a kind of audio virus, chaotically synthesising an era that's characterized by an overabundance of information and access. Anything is possible, but we've been lulled into mediocrity; 'Potential' is a kind of exit hatch, a way to jump from the timeline and watch as themes and echoes are pulled into eldritch shapes, then reformed into almost familiar figures. It's fucking exhilarating.