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Carter Tutti Void – f(x)


Carter Tutti Void - f(x)That foetal thump propelling this is cavernous; and at high volume it’s huge. Dynamically churning up the digital silt as collapsing structures fall through in cacophonies of brokenness, shadowy vectors that smoulder in the arch of pulsing ambiguity. Yep, my favourite trio Carter Tutti Void are back with more post-industrial mutations to be savoured.

The splintered majesty that started with Transverse (and I still can’t believe that was a live recording) has been given a studio makeover, transposing its predecessor’s pristine sheen with a f(x) glaucoma that dirties things up a touch. A darkened stage that lets those vivid (and vivid they are) splashes really shine, captures the slow disintegration of form beautifully — a perpetual collision and explosive gristle that banquets on its own mirage(ing) momentums.


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Carter Tutti Void (live at The Oslo Club)

Carter Tutti Void live at the Oslo Club September 2014London 16 September 2014

Mounting the stage with a promise of a different set to the previous night’s show at the same venue, Nik Void, Chris Carter and Cosey Fanni Tutti settle quickly into place behind a compact selection of effects boxes, mixers and other instruments. As the gig gets underway, the backdrop lit up by the slowly-cycling op-art imagery familiar from their début album projected overhead, the first audible and visual surprise is that Carter is flanked on either side by Void and Tutti, and they’re playing guitars. Certainly, both Factory Floor and CarterTutti have both always used the instrument, but it’s a striking image at odds with the sounds which the trio are generating. The electronic beat is strong, clear and

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Carter Tutti Void – Transverse


Breath was bated at this, apparently, but not mine. I mostly dislike collaborations, even when I try to like them, even when I love the collaborators. Collaborations regress towards the mean, like motionless wrestling or mutual strangulations in the back of army trucks (a personal joke, one intended only for my future self to smirk about; sorry).

I blame everyone: Mike Paradinas and Richard James as Mike and Rich on the Expert Knob Twiddlers LP (the clue’s in the title,if you substitute ‘expert’ with ‘half-arsed’); the recent Burial and Four Tet releases (two singular visions transposed into some death-dull murk); Whitehouse with Nurse With Wound (smugly bad, the worst of both worlds) — I won’t go on, you can insert your unfaves here. There are inevitable exceptions (answers on a postcard to Freq Towers) but, mostly, the whole is less than

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