This one-shot adventure between Dome’s Bruce Gilbert, Graham Lewis and Mute Records‘ Daniel Miller is a sparse and abstract beauty rubbing up against some glowing new wave edginess, a crooked mix of soundscaping with a smidgen of songwriting.
A serious art over commerce venture, that the relentless squishy bounce of “Hill Of Men” typifies. A soft and fleshy techno to muffled distant voices and a subtle hum of an extractor fan. An exercise in rubberised beatology or abstracted ode the stubbornness of toxic masculinity (who knows) — like Dome, the intelligence behind these experiments seems loaded, atmospherically pointed.
Creatively flows into the Thomas Leer and Robert Rental-style industrialisation of “Or So It Seems”. A forlornly playful synth-pop work of genius, diode-splashing, cross-cut in fragmented melodics and a warm vocal pour. Man, this is good – can’t believe this is the product of 1983 – this moody, manicured beast could have been penned yesterday.
The mired mystery and phat synthesis of “The First Person” digging into the psyche with a stabbing synth and strange lyrics that unravel, slowly cook in that thorny (slightly sinister) tension. That oozy and inquisitive old-time flavour that seeps into the combed reverb and powdery clank of “ANC”, then expands into the sixteen-minute claustrophobic epic that is “Long Sledge”, its broody bass and glinting torque sinking in there as those dragging metallics defuse into an event horizons ambience.
An echoey chamber dramatically curdling letting in some Bela Lugosi-like keystrokes haunted in the sodium-soaked spectres. A considered burn ominously angeling the atmosphere, circumference-surfing into an overdriven rub of industrialised metallics and diamonding dirge.
This Duet Emmo release is an enquiring and curious delight that ignites plenty of inspiration. Thank you Mute for bringing this back from the brink.
-Michael Rodham-Heaps-
