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Thomas Dinger – 2000

Suezan Studio

Thomas Dinger - 2000The last thing I was expecting when listening to these recently-unearthed rarities was Gospel. But that’s what hits your ears first, hallelujahs, hand claps and all, roasted on some mad Blackpool-type organ and acoustic hints of blue grassy glinting holy — a bedazzle for the senses indeed.

Thomas Dinger‘s only other released work, Für Mich, lightly dusted you with its composed turquoise, as its strange inclinations subtly took hold in the warmth of a summer’s day. This collection of fragments from the archives leaks these mellow edges too, but is a far edgier beast as the second track proves, plying your ears in wrong modem sounds, bendy electronics flanging away, burger-flipping odd collusions of drum’n’bass. This could quite easily be Frankensteined together, but it’s more like the re-configured soup of experiment as dub fingers massage Thomas’s voice; and oh, what a voice.

The tones of it deep and inviting, the type that has you hanging off every utterance as low sweeping kisses of mutated techno tighten their drawstrings. From this moment on I’m hopelessly hooked and wiggling as tracks (each named a number in German) vary from eerie drone masterpieces with crevasse-like oxidations to weirdly-crafted electronics that seem to exist in a pool of their own elsewheres, anchored by flitters of broken humanity. “Acht”’s  fine florescent shapes for one, sounding like Thomas is remixing Coil‘s “Blue Rats”… no… those addictive curves are definitely more like “Green Child”, come to think of it.

This is a really intriguing listen, filled with sounds that play with your mind like something backlit, shimmering, suggestive. Littered with crooked little song-forms that seem to leak out from the music’s fractures, wash over you like the orgy of shallow breaths on “Seibens”. The slippery beats of which encapsulate Dinger’s heavy vocals perfectly, making him sound suitably pimp-like, as if sucking back some Caribbean, exhaling like a languid Tom Waits whilst gulls yelp over excited flesh until an unexpectedly spiked-in, speaker tearing {{{ WAHHHHHH }}} for Thomas to descend down on a romantic last line, “You know my feelings are just like you”.

Glad to see the birdy noises are back — those fellers were great on Für Mich — this time melded to coughing laughter as the malleable octaves are paddled in a soft, percussive curls. Then everything finally bows out on a lonesome cuckoo held in harp-like chords, harmonically multiplying as vocals lip heaven’s gate and you’re left with the feeling that the world has lost a great talent.

-Michael Rodham-Heaps-

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