The Labyrinth Of The Straight Line
Like one of those dreams where you’re in a headwind down a dark tunnel and the light at either end never comes closer, The Labyrinth Of The Straight Line is a typically petrifying yet compelling transmission from Gordon Sharp’s Cindytalk, presented as “a compilation of chimerical poetry” where “ambiguous haikus of agony, melancholy, obscurity and dissensus are unfolding over time”.
Almost needless to say but, it’s a markedly different sound to Cindytalk’s previous techno travails with Ancient Methods as In The Mouth Of The Wolf for Diagonal, largely leaving the beats on the floor in favour of absolute abstraction and icy-fingered ambient noise gestures laced with his own, sparingly used vocals that lend a really uncanny presence at times.
At its most succinct in the opener, Sea of Lost Hopes’ recursive metallic matrices, the album expands and contracts, freeze and cracks between the sustained intensity of Shifting Mirrors and the guttural 15 minute chasm of A Wolf At The Door, with traces of brittle rhythmic structures coruscating in the bombed out Sleight of Mind and sparking under the surface of the title track and the skeletal stepper In Search of New Realities.
But ultimately it’s not all dank AF; the aforementioned glimmers of light do become clearer in the shoegazing resolution of Who Will Choose My Dress and with the alien, hyaline harmonies illuminated by Filthy Sun in Diminished Light, yet they remain deliciously just of reach, always sending you back under in to the cycle to be chewed up and spat out again.
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Like one of those dreams where you’re in a headwind down a dark tunnel and the light at either end never comes closer, The Labyrinth Of The Straight Line is a typically petrifying yet compelling transmission from Gordon Sharp’s Cindytalk, presented as “a compilation of chimerical poetry” where “ambiguous haikus of agony, melancholy, obscurity and dissensus are unfolding over time”.
Almost needless to say but, it’s a markedly different sound to Cindytalk’s previous techno travails with Ancient Methods as In The Mouth Of The Wolf for Diagonal, largely leaving the beats on the floor in favour of absolute abstraction and icy-fingered ambient noise gestures laced with his own, sparingly used vocals that lend a really uncanny presence at times.
At its most succinct in the opener, Sea of Lost Hopes’ recursive metallic matrices, the album expands and contracts, freeze and cracks between the sustained intensity of Shifting Mirrors and the guttural 15 minute chasm of A Wolf At The Door, with traces of brittle rhythmic structures coruscating in the bombed out Sleight of Mind and sparking under the surface of the title track and the skeletal stepper In Search of New Realities.
But ultimately it’s not all dank AF; the aforementioned glimmers of light do become clearer in the shoegazing resolution of Who Will Choose My Dress and with the alien, hyaline harmonies illuminated by Filthy Sun in Diminished Light, yet they remain deliciously just of reach, always sending you back under in to the cycle to be chewed up and spat out again.
Like one of those dreams where you’re in a headwind down a dark tunnel and the light at either end never comes closer, The Labyrinth Of The Straight Line is a typically petrifying yet compelling transmission from Gordon Sharp’s Cindytalk, presented as “a compilation of chimerical poetry” where “ambiguous haikus of agony, melancholy, obscurity and dissensus are unfolding over time”.
Almost needless to say but, it’s a markedly different sound to Cindytalk’s previous techno travails with Ancient Methods as In The Mouth Of The Wolf for Diagonal, largely leaving the beats on the floor in favour of absolute abstraction and icy-fingered ambient noise gestures laced with his own, sparingly used vocals that lend a really uncanny presence at times.
At its most succinct in the opener, Sea of Lost Hopes’ recursive metallic matrices, the album expands and contracts, freeze and cracks between the sustained intensity of Shifting Mirrors and the guttural 15 minute chasm of A Wolf At The Door, with traces of brittle rhythmic structures coruscating in the bombed out Sleight of Mind and sparking under the surface of the title track and the skeletal stepper In Search of New Realities.
But ultimately it’s not all dank AF; the aforementioned glimmers of light do become clearer in the shoegazing resolution of Who Will Choose My Dress and with the alien, hyaline harmonies illuminated by Filthy Sun in Diminished Light, yet they remain deliciously just of reach, always sending you back under in to the cycle to be chewed up and spat out again.
Like one of those dreams where you’re in a headwind down a dark tunnel and the light at either end never comes closer, The Labyrinth Of The Straight Line is a typically petrifying yet compelling transmission from Gordon Sharp’s Cindytalk, presented as “a compilation of chimerical poetry” where “ambiguous haikus of agony, melancholy, obscurity and dissensus are unfolding over time”.
Almost needless to say but, it’s a markedly different sound to Cindytalk’s previous techno travails with Ancient Methods as In The Mouth Of The Wolf for Diagonal, largely leaving the beats on the floor in favour of absolute abstraction and icy-fingered ambient noise gestures laced with his own, sparingly used vocals that lend a really uncanny presence at times.
At its most succinct in the opener, Sea of Lost Hopes’ recursive metallic matrices, the album expands and contracts, freeze and cracks between the sustained intensity of Shifting Mirrors and the guttural 15 minute chasm of A Wolf At The Door, with traces of brittle rhythmic structures coruscating in the bombed out Sleight of Mind and sparking under the surface of the title track and the skeletal stepper In Search of New Realities.
But ultimately it’s not all dank AF; the aforementioned glimmers of light do become clearer in the shoegazing resolution of Who Will Choose My Dress and with the alien, hyaline harmonies illuminated by Filthy Sun in Diminished Light, yet they remain deliciously just of reach, always sending you back under in to the cycle to be chewed up and spat out again.
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Like one of those dreams where you’re in a headwind down a dark tunnel and the light at either end never comes closer, The Labyrinth Of The Straight Line is a typically petrifying yet compelling transmission from Gordon Sharp’s Cindytalk, presented as “a compilation of chimerical poetry” where “ambiguous haikus of agony, melancholy, obscurity and dissensus are unfolding over time”.
Almost needless to say but, it’s a markedly different sound to Cindytalk’s previous techno travails with Ancient Methods as In The Mouth Of The Wolf for Diagonal, largely leaving the beats on the floor in favour of absolute abstraction and icy-fingered ambient noise gestures laced with his own, sparingly used vocals that lend a really uncanny presence at times.
At its most succinct in the opener, Sea of Lost Hopes’ recursive metallic matrices, the album expands and contracts, freeze and cracks between the sustained intensity of Shifting Mirrors and the guttural 15 minute chasm of A Wolf At The Door, with traces of brittle rhythmic structures coruscating in the bombed out Sleight of Mind and sparking under the surface of the title track and the skeletal stepper In Search of New Realities.
But ultimately it’s not all dank AF; the aforementioned glimmers of light do become clearer in the shoegazing resolution of Who Will Choose My Dress and with the alien, hyaline harmonies illuminated by Filthy Sun in Diminished Light, yet they remain deliciously just of reach, always sending you back under in to the cycle to be chewed up and spat out again.