On her lonesome, Antye Greie (AGF) is an artisan who manufactures crackling clicks and cuts that have all the unstable volatility of overloaded circuits; her limber quiver a focal point, passes through an economy of words and strenuous repetition of phrase and line, altering dynamics and creating tiny variations in her lyrics. The birthmark perched atop much of Vladislav Delay’s works, meanwhile, is that of elongated dub basslines and finespun background overtones that scuttle about in surreptitious insect activity.With Explode, this pair merges for a moment and conceives a work that bears a paltry resemblance to anything raised by either in the past. For Explode dawns heavy-set beats that saunter about with little heed for linear paths, their step slow, weary. Now and again compositions, namely “Break Doors”, “Recorded” and “Distributor, summon strength and surge into strides of bleached buzz low-grade noise and nimble electronic patterings that sound like thick rain-drops snapping at a metal awning. At such places, Explode reminds of a modern-day rendition of Portishead. The album on a whole, what with its placid, reverberent atmospheres brought to the fore by flitting beats and smears of high frequency noise, does indeed harken back to trip-hop chapters and alter the plot-line in an esoteric, but engaging manner. Antye’s words are wrapped in a pondering spoken-voice that spills out as though these were stream-of-conscious commentaries as to the banalities of contemporary life. She finds fine phrasings, as those noted in “Slow Living” where she murmers “i close my eyes with wings/ i fill the emptyness with hope and stroke my own heart”. More often than not, though, her insights branch out into trite ruminations such as in “Useless”, where, in a erudite quip, she stammers “i got really disgusted/ by the music played in the shops/ cheap styleless pop trash/ i bought lipstick”.
One wishes Antye might have found more novel dresses for her observations and, what's more, that the album's progression might have undergone alterations along the way; be that as it may, Explode, with its exemplary exhibition of everyday struggles with ennui, articulates endearing, relatable sentiments. Grab a spot of tea, an edition of Georg Buchner's 'Leonce and Lena', or Kundera's 'Identity' and enjoy.
Max Schaefer |
