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Conrad Schnitzler and Pyrolator – Con-struct

Bureau B

Conrad Schnitzler and Pyrolator – Con-structThis is part of a continuing series of works that delve in the Conrad Schnitzler sound archive to generate newly inspired works. As the label stresses, this series isn’t intended to be homage or to be taken as a plain remix project, but more as an active experiment in creativity itself.

Con-struct starts sedately enough in a drift of aerosol(ed) bleeds over a plasticity of hiccups and gaseous exchanges in Vangelis-like yawns in a streamer-filled horizon. An opener that leaves you head scratching as the next taster “228-1” (all the tracks have archive catalogue numbers) holds an altogether precarious stability. This is more like it — a dub cage erosive full of tactile scatterings, ruffled aluminium and croaking vocal

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Various Artists – Science Fiction Park Bundesrepublik

Cache Cache

Various Artists – Science Fiction Park BundesrepublikIf I ever got my hands on a time machine I’d make ‘8os Germany my first destination. The cassette culture back then was rich and varied, a future that even today seems beamed in from a different planet. Enviously, Felix Kubin was lucky enough to be right in the thick of it at the time, a teenager both consumer and participant. The self-penned liner notes to an album subtitled German Home Recording Tape Music of the 1980s lovingly describing him lighting up with possibilities after a chance watching of Der Plan on TV. This was the music he had waited years for, go the notes, music that would set off a catalytic spark for him and his brother to experiment

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Pyrolator’s Wunderland

Bureau B

Pyrolator's WunderlandThis is a gleeful, cheery offering. A million miles from the moody cultures of Inland, Kurt Dahlke‘s ’79 debuting ice-breaker, it’s all ruby-cheeked whimsy, paddling in the shallow end, sucking on plenty of easy ear lollipops. Knowingly going where most experimenters fear to tread, into a world reserved for elevators and on hold appeasement; in short , the land of the inoffensive ditty.

Pyrolator is clearly having so much fun with it all too, playfully squeezing the melody to the max, spicing up the trebly tailoring with quirky animal ker-ching. It’s as if the soft-contoured scoops of tango on “Hal’ s Dream” or “Rush Hour in Singapore”‘s handclap/bamboo(zle) were adverts for nonsensical products floating out on carpets of helium, or MIDI

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