Greek post-industrial / noise producer Kostas Karamitas first emerged back in 2005 with his debut ‘Backbone’ EP as Tokyo Mask on Low Impedance, with both it and his subsequent 2007 album ‘Hinterlands’ seeing him crafting vast, distorted walls of noise using guitars, bass, live drums and processed field recordings. This latest five track EP on Low Impedance follows on from last year’s ‘Lowend Psychopathology’ download-only collection on Memoryformat, and sees Karamitas offering up a distinctly ominous and brooding collection that shifts between thundering noise-rock and and occasionally wide-eyed, almost ecstatic drone-scapes over its 38 minutes. The ferocious ‘Control’ opens proceedings on a suitably overdriven note, with an opening wash of distant trailing wind-like textures gradually being overtaken by clicking programmed handclaps and growling distortion, shortly before huge, clattering rock drums lock into a relentlessly thundering groove and roaring guitar and bass riffs get pushed through all manner of crunching distortion and high-end electronic squeals.
If the aforementioned offering calls to mind a more overtly synth-drenched Godflesh (particularly given its almost funereal, keyboard-laced outro section), ‘The Human Wreck’ meanwhile sits far closer to pure drone-based trip-out, with its epic wander through vast harmonic tones, skittering drum programming and churning distorted guitar loops relentlessly paring itself down over time until only icy, ringing dronescapes remain, evoking a sensation of eerily blissful grandeur similar to ‘2001 – A Space Odyssey’s iconic monolith sequences. By comparison, ‘Death Drive’ sees dark, throbbing synths rising to the forefront for a menacing, electro-tinged wander through chugging guitar powerchords, crashing militaristic live drumming and buzzing, post-industrial electronics that calls to mind one of the more furious moments from NIN’s ‘Ghosts I-IV’ instrumental collection, before the expansive ‘Bastard Son’ sets the controls for twelve minutes of relentless oceanic churn as ghostly live snares trace a path through massive walls of electronic processing, guitar feedback and treated field recordings, only to disappear off into a horizon of droning harmonic wash. Toss in some extremely classy slipcase artwork and a top-class mastering job, and you’re left with a consistently gripping EP from Tokyo Mask that should particularly appeal to fans of the likes of Greymachine, Scorn and Jesu.
Chris Downton
