Category: SOG-BLOG

Immersive audio, visuals and intimate electronica

Posted on by Spirit of Gravity

March 2026
The Rossi Bar

In the absence of our esteemed Geoff Cheesemaster, Dan Powell donned the wig and started the evening by leading a communal voice drone in memory of the inspirational and sadly missed Steve Gillitt (aka minimal impact).

The drone theme continued as Andrew Greaves began his set with a mix of washes and conversational fragments using field recordings of Steve himself. Andrew’s performance continued with several pieces related to his recent “Headspace” release. Rhythmic synth figures underpinned some dark folkish melodies, with occasional interventions from some chit-chat looped samples. The shortest of minimalist pieces followed before things took a moodier turn; expansive abstraction, as a backdrop to the darkest of analogue improvisations. Andrew lifted the mood for the final stretch, as swooshing pulses and syncopated riffs gave way to some intense, eastern flavoured lead improvisations. His set concluded with something of an homage to the early days of electronic soundtrack music; a reedy organ, a faux Theremin and a chorus of wolf howls.

All of this against a backdrop of improvised and remarkably in sync visuals from Meljoann.

For his performance, Tam Lin combined modular synthesis and intimate vocalisations. His set developed gradually from a tapestry of spare, detailed analogue beeps and crackles. In time, intimate, half spoken vocals added the most human of touches. This piece grew organically, as the sound world widened into something more wide screen. This was a lovely, slow burn of a performance; drawing the audience into silence. Gentle, low fi figures followed, morphing into subtle, filtered sequencer washes. At the midway point Tam Lin introduced an arresting tick-tock beat and some mantra like vocalisations. His set finished with a beautifully jagged pitch-drop drum figure acting as back drop to an edgier song: taking a series of several sharp turns along the way. This piece concluded with a coda of intimate, layered analogue loveliness.

Oddfellows Casino provided a performance that for once justified that oft used description; immersive. The four participants packed the small stage; Al Strachan, Eliza Skelton and Emma Papper provided a sensitively layered electronic dialogue. Musically, it was conversational improv, but highly focussed and directed by both the visuals and the voice commentary. Meanwhile, David Bramwell’s commentary drew the audience into the past and almost forgotten world of the industrial north. The words and archival images detailed a lost steel industry, drowned villages and some occasionally inaccurate memories. Stories of real lives and brutal industry, strangely haunted by ancient mythology; stories including some vocal interventions from the voice of Alan Moore. The music, the words and the images cast something of a spell within the room; it was a very special performance. However, as Dan Powell was keen to remind us; next month will be even better!

Thanks to Howard Spencer for the photos.



Steve ‘minimal impact’ Gillitt

Posted on by Spirit of Gravity

We are extremely saddened to hear of the death this month of one of the founding members of the Spirit of Gravity Collective, Steve minimal impact Gillitt. In some ways he was the beating experimental heart of the Spirit of Gravity, with his single-minded search for the perfect noise, and keen willingness to collaborate, although if you played with him, he nearly always drowned you out with his volume. His 30 or so live performances in the first 15 years or so of our history were all memorably uncompromising, as were his appearances at related nights such as Wrong Music. He gave us the audience participation concept the electrocreche, although unfortunately we cannot fit this in at our current venue at the Rossi Bar, and his sardonic humour and rebellious attitude kept us honest through the years. His last release on our BandCamp label in 2018 was due to be part of a larger project, which we are very sad not to be able to experience, but he has left an archive of unreleased material from over the years, some of which we hope to be able to share with you in due course. We have lost a friend as well as a remarkable artist, so we will be marking Steve’s passing a number of times through our 25th Anniversary year, but this starts with Geoff Cheesemaster’s more comprehensive tribute on our website here: spiritofgravity.com/steve-minimal-impact-gillitt/ 

Everything happens without seeming to

Posted on by Spirit of Gravity

February 2026
The Rossi Bar

Em— (Em-Dash, a typographic joke in case you’re interested) is the first act on this evening, stepping up at the last minute. June’s setup is a laptop and a flight case chock full of hardware. Starting with eerie long tones and a turned bass drum. And where the snare should be a metal rattle. A creeping bass line joins along with hi-hats and an actual rattle-y snare that slips around the beat. A little descending melody with hints of origins back in the radiophonic workshop chimes in, the beat slips out of kilter, and sounds start to mutate. Hell, everything starts to mutate into the slinky, stalking lurch of Tom Waits’ drunken uncle. A chopped voice is discernible, but not understandable. A chipper woodblock pattern trips in speeding things up, the drums distort behind it. June starts chopping around with the woodblocks, adding a squelch then dropping them out. This continues then the woodblocks seem to come back as a different squelch, the beat picks up, voices are being made to do alien things. Interlocking rhythms sourced from not your usual sounds wind away. Then drop into a new clap heavy lopsided beat. Punctuation provided by bells and laser hits. This is a solid groove, it seems to have one leg longer than the other but is insistent nonetheless. There is a sudden drop in tempo, space appears taking out most of the elements of the beat and then slowly replacing them with buzzing stammers, more squelchy bits, bass-y buzzes or booms. A shining melody line shimmers in over the top of the churning chaos. And so it continues, seemingly ill defined, mesmerising, shifting about, developing constantly. Rhythmically and sonically so inventive. Ending in a staccato frenzy of beats and short organ blips.

Next up was Rhubiqs with a setup of laptop, tablet and controller and a set that eschews the hyper-evolution of Em- in favour of apparent stasis. Starting with string synths slowly rotating in and out, these are joined with warbling tones. We sit there in this gently evolving wash of sound, there is a field recording of waves and the synths slow down to almost drone levels. The waves slowly die away and the tonal sounds fade in to replace the synths, it now feels like space music; earthrise over the moon, perhaps. Warm, though, and rich. There is birdsong and quiet rain. The string synths drift back in and a melodic refrain slowly emerges, then eventually thickens up into a nice rich drone. The details shift inside the drone and then it fades out to some mild glitching, to be replaced by looping more orchestral sounding strings. Slow piano notes drift over the top. There’s another hint of water in a field recorder trickling away in the background as we shift back into a new dronescape. A male choir indistinctly chants under the drone. A muted brass sound serenely provides another melodic intervention when the singing ends. Gently the stream fades up, and everything bar the melody drifts out of earshot. And then it’s just the melodic line. A beautiful calming filling to a fairly frenetic sandwich.

ChopChop, left to right, Ed (usually the drummer) is on the floor with lots of things, electronic and percussive, Al at the back, synth and cornet as usual, although he’s bought the MS1 out for a change, Eddie on bass and effects, and out front the irrepressible Xelis with vocals, trumpet and expressive dance. It’s a slightly different setup, shorter on monster groove than usual, but no less entertaining. It starts with Ed tapping a cymbal and Xelis gibbering and twitching. They build the intensity and a pulsing starts in. Ed starts a rhythm on the objects around him, the MS1 starts to warble, and Eddie starts some slow high bass notes, half a bassline. Xelis plays flurries on the trumpet. Everything drops down bar Xelis talking. Ed starts tapping out another rhythm, some processing makes then notes as well as hits, electronic stabbing noises envelop us. Xelis is dancing. It drops away again, to Xelis & squelches this time, then builds again. Ed is triggering occasional big noises. More space. “The butchers have gone mad”. Xelis is still in motion as everything around him stalls. The cornet comes in, bringing synth washes and the trumpet. Ed is at work on the electronics and Eddie furnishing occasional bass frills. Xelis throbs. Amazed. Al is back on the synth, Xelis takes up abstract singing again as we drift. Eddie has a bassline that slowly grabs our attention, and everything drops again. Xelis is guttural now, issuing commands, endless and contradictory. Someone starts up a synth rhythm. More synth lines join in. Xelis is twitching again. Cymbals come back in and a bassline starts, the percussion thickens, even though lacking a kick and the trumpet swirls. A synth is on a ramp in the background. The synth rhythm is relentless propelling Xelis into jerks. He is the last thing moving.



This was an actual birthday

Posted on by Spirit of Gravity

January 2026
The Rossi Bar

Starting the year – a New Year following yet again another hottest year on record – we have a set by an augmented Remember Glaciers, with Jim with his laptop, but also electric guitar, and live memories narrated by Sophie Cowan and flute by Natty Purbrick. The synthesizer, as is the case with Remember Glaciers unfolds at a very slow rate, exceeding slow arpeggios and washes as befits the subject. The guitar and flute unfurl gently in the spaces around Sophie’s story of her visit to the Franz Josef Glacier on New Zealand’s south island. There is a melancholy, as you would expect from a series of performances based on the premise that we could be the last generation to remember glaciers. Jim and Natty alternate their responses to Sophie, each responding to the last’s playing. It’s really understated, and adds a nice level of detail on top of what is usually so stately in its flow. Sophie pauses speaking for a while and takes on some pre-recorded speech and starts to chop it using the Ableton controller, although its somewhat less frenzied than in others of Jim’s projects. While that is happening Jim and Natty play off each other, gently circling around and around.  Jim plays a little descending line that indicates closure and the piece ends with Jim’s usual request for more memories of glaciers.

Agnes Haus is next up, with a modular setup and their own flickering grey visuals. Starting with a reverb-y collapse into a church organ from a tidy modular setup. There is some creepy reverbed scrape from an untrue cassette player adding a warbling atmosphere, a scatter of harpsichord chimes give us a narrative frame. A slow regular staple double tap gives a rhythm and everything else strips away. The modular syncopates beeps slowly against that. A pinging piano line emerges from the mass of cables. This cycles away quite hypnotically for a while. Stephe picks up an electric mandolin (I believe) and holding it vertically bows in some harsh raspy drones and some blustery bursts of noise, which builds to a crescendo of squalls and racket – a nice buzzing bass-line underpinning it. It dies away to church organ drones again. Slowly against these we get bouncing little piano parts. The church organ fads and everything slows, there is a flapping fan, there’s a fade out while Stephe tries to find the source of the fan, and with a dramatic twist of a pot, kills it, to a burst of laughter from the audience.

And to finish off the evening it’s our friend from The North Kent Coastal Electronauts, Sophie Sirota who had travelled 90 miles through rain and fog. She starts with a nicely melancholic electric viola line set against an insistent buzzing synth bass with a hard square LFO modulating it. After a while she loops part of the viola, and then gets to work against it adding texture, counter melodic lines. As the loops thicken the bassline seems to recede. There’s some whooshing and then she gets down on the floor to get working on the effects units before hitting us with a melodic line over the top and some metallic fuzz soloing. The second piece starts with a single plucked note that sets up a cascading backing synth line. She sings breathily into a deep reverb. Again it’s loading the looper, some tricky work with a delay pedal, some lovely rich tones, some more singing. Some more of that lovely viola line and back to the vocals. We finish off with a song that was written for an Intox Extravaganza, which may or may be called either “F**k it” or “These are the good days”. This one starts with a jabbing riff through loads of delay, some creaking bass bow-work, and some floating creepiness. Over this insistent backing track Sophie sings, and plays viola lines that to me invoked Tuxedomoon’s haunting “Ninotchka”. Full of Eastern European mystery. The song winds out in a savage deconstruction of the jabbing riff and a harsh warbling.



Yew hadda bee fare

Posted on by Spirit of Gravity

December 2025
The Rossi Bar

I’ve been kinda putting off reviewing this one. We squeezed in four sets, two of which were performances by Henry Collins and Chase Coley that bookended the night. Both of these were very visual, multi-media and are going to be a bit tricky to describe….

So we started the evening with Hyacinth Bucket and the magical testicle filled with thousands of bumble bees and the essence of creation. There is onstage a huge magical testicle, pink, a film starts with the back story and then Hyacinth Bucket herself appears onscreen and narrates the tale. Chase enacts the part of the shepherd and wanders around the room. And then approaches the magical testicle, and enters, skronking and plonking ensues. The testicle throbs. About ten minutes in The Bumble Bees are summoned. After a little longer angelic voices and a nearly naked Chase covered in magical symbols emerges from the testicle followed by Henry in a red dress coat and they gaze adoringly at the heavens.

Next up, with the tricky task of following that we had Meljoann set up at the side of the stage where she usually VJs. starting with a 4 to the floor kick, and quickly morphing through a variety of beats with a monster boinging kick sound, repetitive vocalisation stabs Meljoann goes for the extreme opposite of HBATMT.. Repetition, minimalism, looping back and forth, then dropping out down to a tiny pinging riff, and then she drops massive explosions onto it before bringing in some kind of truncated D’n’B drum track. Then a fidgeting bassline clambers all over that, before the rhythm track drop back to something possibly a little more techno, thickening up briefly into some kind of gurgly soup before a weird R’n’B drop takes into a pulverising one beat then something that I can only describe as doo-wop – which is a massive misdirection – reminiscent of the heady days when hardcore could go in all directions and often did. A fidgety drum track takes us out under some Prince-like synth drones to end.

Then we had Luuma, a beast of a modular setup, with a laptop and some other devices. It starts with a thick buzzing drone and some feedback whistling. A wind of distortion threads through, there’s a hint of a scraping sound cycling away in the background, the drone starts to blister and bubble. The drone drops away into sustained balloon squeaking, its evil stuff, that starts to burble away until it drops into some kind of square wave LFO thing. That speeds and slows and gets into a bit of squelchy territory before morphing into a different more aeroplane-y drone. This continues for a while before upending in a squall of nasty electronic sounds that skitter about in a radiophonic manner before filtering down to a murky storm. Some giants start arguing over a didgeridoo in a room in the distance. Chris has a big wooden home-made drone instrument, this looks like a didge, but has a single string and some electronics. He rasps at it with a bow (in another life Chris is a talented cellist) setting up layers of harmonics and buzzing before getting into some free improv scratching. It feels like the giants are in torment now. Then he starts some sustained bowing getting thick heavy drones, before thinning it out into streamers of sustained tone based around harmonic standing waves on the string, then thickens this right up into a tasty storm to end.

And to end the night its Chase and Henry again, filling the stage with clutter – old CRT portable TV, tables, home-made bits and pieces, cassette player, cymbal, TV aerial… whatever. This was the dangerous end of the evening.

The set started with a fat drone, sourced by pressing an electric screwdriver chassis into the stage making it resonate. Chase enters the stage barefoot and starts getting white noise out of the radio. I can hear the wind coming from somewhere. Henry comes onstage also barefoot and opens a big pot of drawing pins and slowly sprinkles onto a contact miked piece of metal. Chase needs to move and realises that the stage is now very effectively booby-trapped. He picks up the waterphone and tiptoeing across the stage starts bowing it, wrenching high pitched drones, Henry starts scrumpling a cellophane octopus. Chase gets a reverb-y warbling undertone out of the waterphone. He gongs it as well. Henry seems to dismantle the octopus and gets the active noisy element out and continues with the crumpling as Chase gets back onto the radio. Henry gets into a fight with a Middle Eastern horn. Chase starts bowing a big square sheet of steel, while Henry starts rummaging drumsticks on and then around a large steel bin. This sheets more vigorous drumsticks flying around the stage, until the large steel tape measure comes out – Henry reels out about 5 feet of it and starts whipping it about the stage – it’s a nice white source of static bursts, but a little terrifying as zooms around the stage – especially when reversed and the tape holder starts clobbering the objects littering the stage. And getting further afield, Chase gets the screwdriver back to work. The tape measure holder is by now whirling around above the audience’s heads. Chase starts droning the metal bin building up to gong-like crescendos and Henry winds down into cymballic pings off something. Henry leads the audience into a slow plodding stamp that slowly fades out to end.




Had it already started raining, then

Posted on by Spirit of Gravity

November 2025
The Rossi Bar

The Belarina Project is a new musical project from cellist Bela Emerson, and we’re really honoured for her to debut her set of composed pieces at the Spirit of Gravity. Her performances are usually improvised so this is a departure for her. The first piece starts with strong bowed lines into her looper, over this she places a line of equal notes in a higher register, occasionally these are looped, sometimes they are just played and lost, chords are built and shifted. Its surprisingly moving, seemingly simple, an echoing short loop is left trailing off that piece and onto this she builds a rhythmic plucked or is it slapped part. It’s a long line that is looped and subtly built over, before a single melodic line is added, it speaks to me of snow and hills. I’m not sure about anyone else. The third piece starts with a drone and then a bassline that reminds me of Henri Texier for reasons I can’t fathom, Bela sings about past love. The following piece is faster, it starts with a piano part, after a time a plucked bass and buzzing melody part, it’s uplifting in a soft way. The next piece starts off with a raw cello line looped, and again layered up into developing chords, no syncopations here, just exposed emotions. It feels like a lament until some jabbing chords chime in. followed by a bang on the cello bass drum. And finally into the end of the set breathing space.

For Bennu, originally a synth doom outfit according to Zizo’s introduction, he is now playing guitar while his oppo is handling the electronics, it starts with a huge slowly sweeping drone from both sets of hands. The rhythm track is super slow, a couple of kick beats here, a crushing snare there. A super sub bass gnarls up from the drone and wobbles in. A murky synth line is almost lost in the distance. A breakdown, some feedback, the room shakes a little. Great blocks of bass march into view and take us along with them, a thin trebly line and some noises like something from Cabaret Voltaire’s cassette archive, indistinct voices, warbling strings. The kick comes back with its own bass part and a faulty cash machine offset, grinding drones. Its dislocated but still rhythmic enough. The high guitar lines just cuts through. Repetition, halting, starting again, repetition, halting. Finally. Delays spin out from the guitar, the cash register now drones and we can hear a fairy funfair in the distance. It’s unsettling, a female voice can just be heard singing. All the delays slur down. The guitar now sounds like a flapping bass guitar. Entwined around this we get wiry abstractions, thin, circuitous. The rhythm falls apart into stuck cd stammers, swirls of saw-tooth and sine. A snare, or a tin sheet being hit at the bottom of a well, one or the other starts off the next segment in tandem with a blocky buzzing one note synth bass. A synthetic wind blows in from the west, hot and humid, the guitar gurgles malevolently. The drums churn quietly away in the background. A giant brush sweeps the room in lieu of a hi-hat. More machine rhythms, big bass booms, sonic whiplash snare, a drone whines in the midrange and drops away leaving just the blocks of noise.  An arpeggio of tonality disrupts the murk. A sledgehammer kick stomps by. Motorbike engine bass, thunk of a snare, rhythmic synth parts. School bell percussion, more voices. It drops to a bassline nicked off a poorly pigeon coo, we get breakdowns – pregnant pauses in the punishing beats.

Morwell is chatty, the first track is an old track of his that he’d slowed down, its starts straight in, chiming synth part weaving with odd reversed synths, claps but not much else you can hear of a beat, until a while in a shuffle starts up. Some horror film samples. There’s a fair amount of phaser action in here, too. The next track starts with voices “into the light” variations and a lurching erratic beat. Everything is super clean sounding. Nice switch into bongos, with a syncopated plastic rattle. Some trumpet sounds. The beats slowly distort. Still off kilter. Slightly. A breakdown for some stabs. Syncopated like they are from a slowed down Drum and Bass tune. Detuned synth hits on the one, too. Crowd noises. A sweeping rhythm track starts the next one, then a bulbous kick drum boings in heralding a vocal sample.  Distant, indistinct, creepy. The drums firm up losing murk and then it stops. The next track is another slowed down track; a tribute to rave. Slowed down and speeded up vocals, stabs, intermittent bass, it’s hardcore but ~120bpm, and all the more delirious for it. Back to clean beats for the next one. Weirdly lumpy, too. Nice subby bassline.  Drifting synth stabs, all serving as a bed for space noises. The next starts with film samples and synth shimmers, the voices glitch up into the scattered rhythm track, noises slur around in the background, everything is unfixed until a drum and bass beat starts in and brings it all together. The final track starts with a skanking keyboard, then the hardcore kick stomps along, rattling snare loops, dub trumpets, vocal samples, it’s a short build and drop, build and drop, a lot of energy in the builds, each subtly different, feeling faster than the last..The history of rave rewritten as ‘Artcore.


As we fall into the dark months

Posted on by Spirit of Gravity

October 2025
The Rossi Bar

Opening the evening we have Rashamon previewing his new album live. Starting with strings layered with organs and choral drones, the occasional beat frequency, or quiet swirl. Gorgeous, a strong violin-ish line appears and slowly develops. A Morse piano quietly muses into our consciousness, fleetingly we wonder of its stories, the violins drop and there’s a very quiet oddly Drexciya swirl that introduces a synth riff that gives rise to further, more prominent swirls excitement builds. Lee segues directly into the piano riff of the second song, more string synth coils, almost immediately synth noises coalesce around the piano. I’m reminded of the long ago first 7”, there’s some emotional build and the piano drops to bass noise and a plangent violin riff. The piano returns. Imperceptibly extra layers join, details, chimes, distant jets, no drums – we start to feel that there may not be drums. Everything drops to a very gnarly bass with unoiled machine creaks and two note pulsation comes to the fore, and we drop to wind and decaying echoes, far off sirens. Which herald the third song. A winding entwining pair of string parts come in, the synth swirls wander around in the background – for some reason that escapes me I’m reminded of Claire M Singer’s organ beautiful drone pieces – beats me. A pizzicato string part bounces around, causing one of the string melodies to digress slightly, and drop to cello sonorities. Always an emotional pitch, this gets seriously lovely. There’s that Drexciya sound again. It brings in a drone and a major pulsing buzzing bass, a hammered synth rhythm tracks around it. There’s a drop to the bass. Tasty. Some John Carpenter territory on that. Still no drums. The violin is back with a pin point melodic line. The remaining parts slowly come back in, then another drop to the bass, but its morphed ever so slightly and feels more present, a thicker string line comes in. Drop again to the bass, which gently mellows out to water and a very thin high saw-tooth, the earlier piano part’s 3 note brother comes in, warmer and bigger. A proper synth bass pings in. a high synth slow almost drone, but melodic starts to unfold ecstatically. It drops down to the piano and weird ponging version of one of the other parts. There’s a thick organ/vocal sounds breathy and powerful and eventually things rejoin. It’s all very emotional, religious.

Perry Frank on his returns opens with a dark side of the moon plane shudder and slowly unfolding guitar warbles underpinning delayed Italian(?) speech. That’s all eventually subsumed by a series of squalls of feedback drone that roll into a slowly rolling looped riff. Fed by bass drones and trebly highlights this takes on a luxurious quality that rolls over gradually into fat uneasy drones. This then mellows out into a wave backed lightweight version of the original riff and the feedback splatters over it all again into a super doom slooooow pump. A high pitched synth drone works its way out of the mire, serenely floating over the top. There’s a very slow fade out to more speech, lead crackles, phaser wash and rattles. We get a clean guitar strum, then after what feels like an age – a second strum. Then a jangle of strings, another strum;  the delay on the guitar slowly builds as he plays on, slowly. A small synth arpeggio blooms into our hearing, some very bassy drone, and then some more shuddering guitar, this time tremolo fuzzed: biting and bassy. The synth shimmers around it. Slowly this builds up to a densely layered squall of synths, guitar scrabbling and feedback. It ebbs then comes back in full force then fades away down to concrete cityscapes and a lush synthy wash. This gives way to a thin little synth riff then big under-amplified guitar strings through fracturing effects. An airfield hum worms in, then more weirdly mid period Pink Floyd guitar lines scattered by Morse code pings and short wave static out of which the voices return.

And finally the return of Automouse, on a brief visit from Edinburgh, she sneaks in (if it’s possible to sneak in wearing an orange box with a huge blinking eye on the front) bringing a low level hum sweeping up, and then up again and again to a whistle joined by a one note bass throb, then ticking clock and the drums stomp in. everything is morphing into a more distorted version of itself, the kick you didn’t notice was missing stomps on your head. The whistle sweeps back down and up, then a fully nasty bit of indescribable-ness motors into life and brings a breakdown. We’re back and rolling. Things motor along and that sound comes back – I think it’s a monstrously detuned hi-hat – it’s overwhelming and then it’s off again. A rim shot heralds the start of the next track and we move swiftly into that, a monster bass all sub-sonics and saw-tooths, the bass drum kicks and stops, kicks and stops. We get a breakdown that comes at you from all sides, SF sirens to the left and right, and switch to a faster bass and the single most distorted snare I’ve ever heard. Then a clicking stick pattern ups the energy levels, a cascading beep squirrels away deep inside the mix. Then it’s back into distortion and murk. A slow down into a sliding bassline and a new way of messing up a snare sound into fragments. Everything is starting to feel feverish, sweaty and slippery. The bass drum drops away leaving everything else to pound away then it comes back in doubled up and double time, chopping the bassline. Then a breakdown into stabs and thunder before a nasty metallic cymbal slices through the mix, hiss hiss, then a fatwashing scythe of treble and a slow bump from the kick drum and we’re off into a semi random synth line which heralds a minor breakcore moment. And then the sound empties out apart from the drums. Coming back with more nasty stabs and beeps before dropping to kick on the 8s for a nice length, and back into a rattling breakcore segment. Which goes back into pounding then returns at half speed. Then we’re off into a lengthy breakdown of sub bass pulse and superfast stick clicking before the return of the sliding bass, and a staccato beat, boom, into noise and super distorted boomy kick and a segment of MT40 drum fills (to celebrate 40 years of Sleng Teng, obviously) that get faster and faster and yet faster… A beepy riff and kick drum on the 8s take us off into the next section. Which is more distorted percussion and beeps. The kick is less distorted more like a cranial assault with a 2×4 now, with a white noise blast for a snare. We get syncopation. No bassline. And buzzing synth line threading through several breakdowns. We end on that thunking bass drum and the sliding synth. A fever dream of the last 45 years of electronic music in a tinnitus sufferer’s head.