Originally released in 1996, "Sirkus" is an off-piste minimal tek belter from sorely missed Finnish maestro Mika Vainio. Completely blown-out kicks scraped up against arcade machine bursts and white noise >> broken and brilliant.
Tekonivel is one of Vainio's lesser-known aliases, but "Sirkus" shouldn't be overlooked. Chirpier than Panasonic's gritty, industrial skronk, this triptych is strictly 4/4 minimalism, engineered for the messiest post-midnight spirals. There aren't many elements, but each one - a breezeblock kick, white noise stab, squelchy monosynth - has been pushed into the red and sculpted to sound completely ruptured from reality.
It's music that makes more sense now maybe, with heightened global anxiety giving the shifting swung patterns and unsettling gurgles an extra sense of relevance. The three tracks aren't super different from each other, and play more like three distinct movements snipped from a long hardware session. But it's not the nature of each composition that's the draw here, it's Vainio's control of texture and expression as he manages to do so much with so little.In Vainio's hands, minimalism becomes a nightmare helix into dancefloor dematerialization.
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Originally released in 1996, "Sirkus" is an off-piste minimal tek belter from sorely missed Finnish maestro Mika Vainio. Completely blown-out kicks scraped up against arcade machine bursts and white noise >> broken and brilliant.
Tekonivel is one of Vainio's lesser-known aliases, but "Sirkus" shouldn't be overlooked. Chirpier than Panasonic's gritty, industrial skronk, this triptych is strictly 4/4 minimalism, engineered for the messiest post-midnight spirals. There aren't many elements, but each one - a breezeblock kick, white noise stab, squelchy monosynth - has been pushed into the red and sculpted to sound completely ruptured from reality.
It's music that makes more sense now maybe, with heightened global anxiety giving the shifting swung patterns and unsettling gurgles an extra sense of relevance. The three tracks aren't super different from each other, and play more like three distinct movements snipped from a long hardware session. But it's not the nature of each composition that's the draw here, it's Vainio's control of texture and expression as he manages to do so much with so little.In Vainio's hands, minimalism becomes a nightmare helix into dancefloor dematerialization.
Originally released in 1996, "Sirkus" is an off-piste minimal tek belter from sorely missed Finnish maestro Mika Vainio. Completely blown-out kicks scraped up against arcade machine bursts and white noise >> broken and brilliant.
Tekonivel is one of Vainio's lesser-known aliases, but "Sirkus" shouldn't be overlooked. Chirpier than Panasonic's gritty, industrial skronk, this triptych is strictly 4/4 minimalism, engineered for the messiest post-midnight spirals. There aren't many elements, but each one - a breezeblock kick, white noise stab, squelchy monosynth - has been pushed into the red and sculpted to sound completely ruptured from reality.
It's music that makes more sense now maybe, with heightened global anxiety giving the shifting swung patterns and unsettling gurgles an extra sense of relevance. The three tracks aren't super different from each other, and play more like three distinct movements snipped from a long hardware session. But it's not the nature of each composition that's the draw here, it's Vainio's control of texture and expression as he manages to do so much with so little.In Vainio's hands, minimalism becomes a nightmare helix into dancefloor dematerialization.
Originally released in 1996, "Sirkus" is an off-piste minimal tek belter from sorely missed Finnish maestro Mika Vainio. Completely blown-out kicks scraped up against arcade machine bursts and white noise >> broken and brilliant.
Tekonivel is one of Vainio's lesser-known aliases, but "Sirkus" shouldn't be overlooked. Chirpier than Panasonic's gritty, industrial skronk, this triptych is strictly 4/4 minimalism, engineered for the messiest post-midnight spirals. There aren't many elements, but each one - a breezeblock kick, white noise stab, squelchy monosynth - has been pushed into the red and sculpted to sound completely ruptured from reality.
It's music that makes more sense now maybe, with heightened global anxiety giving the shifting swung patterns and unsettling gurgles an extra sense of relevance. The three tracks aren't super different from each other, and play more like three distinct movements snipped from a long hardware session. But it's not the nature of each composition that's the draw here, it's Vainio's control of texture and expression as he manages to do so much with so little.In Vainio's hands, minimalism becomes a nightmare helix into dancefloor dematerialization.