Flex Nebulae Experimental, Ambient Kingstux I have done as this record asked, I have taken my time with it and have this to report: there is much more going out there besides the holy trinity of Tympanik, Ad Noiseam and Hymen. This album is wildly imaginative, almost to the point of completely being overrun by chaos incarnate. There are rhythms which exceed their bounds, bizarre melodies which bubble to the surface briefly before being plowed under by the lacerating, roughly intimate emptiness you'll find on 'Flex Nebulae'. This guy has no fear when it comes to mashing completely polar opposite styles of music together. There's a near reggae feel to one of the cuts on this album, which is then smeared by explosive beats and cascades of electronic syncopative menace. I was somewhat worried that the well might be running dry in experimental-ville but have no fear, Xtraplex are here. This is just one of the seven releases they've unleashed via their platform and I'm informed that even more madness is about to be let loose. It's a thick, syrupy concoction we're bumping along to thanks to Kingstux, you're never let go once you put this on and commit yourself to it. Don't expect continuity, this fellow doesn't write from a formula, much like Ekoplex and Some Truths, he'll grab hold of whatever he thinks will fit properly and proceed to abuse his sound sources in ways which you just have to hear to believe. Are there steady beats? Well... yes and no. Yes, in that you do have sections that anchor and give a foundation but also no, because they don't endure and change rapidly. An evolving pupae which has just escaped the cocoon and now is developing it's wings. This is Kingstux, everyone. Say hello. Go on, shake their hand, they don't bite. I think. I'm quite enjoying how psychoactive his style of down tempo work is, it's like watching mushrooms through a time lapse lens... the ground swells ever so slightly and while mollusks slowly roam through the dirt, the cacophony of fungi begins to sing it's eloquent yet disturbingly undermining hymn. The caps spread out like the gilded wings of the Seraphim themselves. Eyes, eyes everywhere. Watching with a knowing, innate sense of serenity that once you take the plunge you're not going to come out the other side the same as you were before. This is affecting music and I don't mean in a pop sense based on hooks and clever catchy chorus'. The slowly warbling, warped voices which come through the wavelength are the sound of DNA itself humming out the sequence of organic life. There are a lot of strangely beautiful moments to collect and savor on here, they usually are punctuated by mangled almost unrecognizable synthesis. Lots of morphing goes on, I suspect that he takes each sound and then utilizes it to create granular lithographs of auditory creatures which we're not attuned enough to spot on our own. Each one must be tracked down, cornered and then pinned down like a butterfly under glass; what I wonder most about this album is just how long he spent on it because it is stitched together with loving attention paid to the most minute of details. The playful nature of this record belies the undeniable disconnect from any form of reality you'll come away feeling after you've let this one wash over you a few times. Kingstux just sneak in so much in a matter of a few measures, I'm about at a loss for words to describe it. From nowhere come the mournful whispers of what perhaps was a cello and it then merges with heavily processed waves of analogue forms that are simply exquisite. It all peels away, and we're pummeled by percussion then a pause... and one second later we're gliding along to a cruelly broken beat which sounds like that same butterfly crawling along on the ground with a crushed wing hoping to go unnoticed until it can heal. And while the stars begin to come out, so do those mollusks, hungrily drawing closer on their silvery secretions as the fungi expand in silence giving up no thoughts of their own. The ground slowly rises and the cycle begins anew... press play again if you dare. 450
Brutal Resonance

Kingstux - Flex Nebulae

8.0
"Great"
N/A
Electroracle
Released 2011 by Xtraplex Records
I have done as this record asked, I have taken my time with it and have this to report: there is much more going out there besides the holy trinity of Tympanik, Ad Noiseam and Hymen. This album is wildly imaginative, almost to the point of completely being overrun by chaos incarnate. There are rhythms which exceed their bounds, bizarre melodies which bubble to the surface briefly before being plowed under by the lacerating, roughly intimate emptiness you'll find on 'Flex Nebulae'. This guy has no fear when it comes to mashing completely polar opposite styles of music together. There's a near reggae feel to one of the cuts on this album, which is then smeared by explosive beats and cascades of electronic syncopative menace. I was somewhat worried that the well might be running dry in experimental-ville but have no fear, Xtraplex are here.

This is just one of the seven releases they've unleashed via their platform and I'm informed that even more madness is about to be let loose. It's a thick, syrupy concoction we're bumping along to thanks to Kingstux, you're never let go once you put this on and commit yourself to it. Don't expect continuity, this fellow doesn't write from a formula, much like Ekoplex and Some Truths, he'll grab hold of whatever he thinks will fit properly and proceed to abuse his sound sources in ways which you just have to hear to believe. Are there steady beats? Well... yes and no. Yes, in that you do have sections that anchor and give a foundation but also no, because they don't endure and change rapidly. An evolving pupae which has just escaped the cocoon and now is developing it's wings. This is Kingstux, everyone. Say hello. Go on, shake their hand, they don't bite. I think.

I'm quite enjoying how psychoactive his style of down tempo work is, it's like watching mushrooms through a time lapse lens... the ground swells ever so slightly and while mollusks slowly roam through the dirt, the cacophony of fungi begins to sing it's eloquent yet disturbingly undermining hymn. The caps spread out like the gilded wings of the Seraphim themselves. Eyes, eyes everywhere. Watching with a knowing, innate sense of serenity that once you take the plunge you're not going to come out the other side the same as you were before. This is affecting music and I don't mean in a pop sense based on hooks and clever catchy chorus'. The slowly warbling, warped voices which come through the wavelength are the sound of DNA itself humming out the sequence of organic life.

There are a lot of strangely beautiful moments to collect and savor on here, they usually are punctuated by mangled almost unrecognizable synthesis. Lots of morphing goes on, I suspect that he takes each sound and then utilizes it to create granular lithographs of auditory creatures which we're not attuned enough to spot on our own. Each one must be tracked down, cornered and then pinned down like a butterfly under glass; what I wonder most about this album is just how long he spent on it because it is stitched together with loving attention paid to the most minute of details. The playful nature of this record belies the undeniable disconnect from any form of reality you'll come away feeling after you've let this one wash over you a few times. Kingstux just sneak in so much in a matter of a few measures, I'm about at a loss for words to describe it. From nowhere come the mournful whispers of what perhaps was a cello and it then merges with heavily processed waves of analogue forms that are simply exquisite.

It all peels away, and we're pummeled by percussion then a pause... and one second later we're gliding along to a cruelly broken beat which sounds like that same butterfly crawling along on the ground with a crushed wing hoping to go unnoticed until it can heal. And while the stars begin to come out, so do those mollusks, hungrily drawing closer on their silvery secretions as the fungi expand in silence giving up no thoughts of their own. The ground slowly rises and the cycle begins anew... press play again if you dare.
Feb 21 2012

Peter Marks

info@brutalresonance.com
Writer and contributor on Brutal Resonance

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