Fuck Buttons – Slow Focus (ATP/ Fuse)

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Fuck Buttons create searing melodic textures of sound, music that builds slowly until it is red-hot piercing noise, and then they raise the stakes. Theirs is the sound of circuits pushed beyond their limits and of synapses collapsing. It’s raised fist music for the experimentalist set, lo fi cracked circuitry masquerading as anthemic post rock – albeit bathed in static with a distinctly electro sensibility.

It’s been four years since their much lauded second album Tarot Sport, and in that time they’ve learnt to move slowly, to take their time to build, and as a result Slow Focus demonstrates that simple gestures can often be the most powerful. There’ a sense of inevitability to the music, you know where the tunes are going from the outset, yet strangely enough this knowledge only adds to the adrenalin when you get there. It’s music that’s more about the journey than the destination, as the music slowly at times almost subconsciously changes and evolves. Perhaps this is where the title comes from; the tunes are simply Polaroids that take seven odd minutes for the full image to appear.

There’ a bit of a dark electro vibe that increasingly makes its presence felt, particularly on the repetitious robotic Sentients, where the electrics sound like laser guns and there’ a liberal use of vocoder pitching. Its here where their big bleak breaks sound recalls the work of Kevin Martins and Justin Broderick’ Techno Animal, music from over a decade ago, and it’s hard not to wonder if this duo owes that duo a finders fee. Though in this noisy chaotic world, where repetition is used as a weapon, Throbbing Gristle loom large, the spiritual godfather’ of the genre and a veritable blueprint for all that came in their wake.

Fuck Buttons wield their electrics like adrenalin and steal liberally and equally from the tension and release dynamics of techno and the slow intense build of post rock and bands like Mono, though instead of reaching for near symphonic heights, when they peak they collapse into warm fuzzy blasts of noise. Throughout though they never lose their melodic sensibilities and their left of the dance floor edge. Sure the textures are telling you to engage your fight or flight response because clearly the world is collapsing, but instead of fear you feel a peculiar energised bliss, and if you look up you’ll see your fist is in the air, and if you look down you’ll realise you’re dancing.

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Bob is the features editor of Cyclic Defrost. He is also evil. You should not trust the opinions of evil people.

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