Erototox Decodings
On the shirt tails of Zappi Diermaier’s recent solo project Monobeat Original comes this exciting take on faust.
A primal purr that, I suspect, seeped into the series of rough mixes that Zappi, along with Schneider TM’s Dirk Dresselhaus and FaUSt’s Elke Drapatz produced, then sent out to the a host of Berlin-based collaborators to re-furnish. A sympathetic gathering including Faust’s electronics pioneer Gunther Wüsthof, and Andrew Unruh and Jochen Arbeit of Einstürzende Neubauten, Uwe Bastiansen of Stadtfischflex, and Sonja Kosche. Like an exquisite corpse, neither knew of the others’ contributions and sent the results blindly back to mission control for final amalgamation, and like an unconscious tapping into the hive-mind, the results are really impressive.
As you would imagine, this version of faust has a strong percussive bias and the shuffling itch of the first track, “Weisse Schokolade”, roulettes the moment brilliantly, as its volumised recoil and snared hooks are niggled in hydra-headed wonder. A distinct Faust-esque soup of sinewy surprise, arrow-fed in clattering metallics and tonal whirr, the odd flicker of mouldering melody allowed to illuminate, phonetically flutter, then incised and draw-strung into some divine contamination in twenty-two glorious minutes that just fly by. A rich promise that shimmers sanguine on “Default Mood”, presents a slightly scary dystopian tease of erupting colour and misshapen impatience. Like a late-night ride around a light-smeared city, textures contour, tail-fin like exiled memories. A darkened hue that goldmines a nervous tension, eerily enhanced by a breathless panting and fidgety glints; then suddenly it’s diving into a grab-bag of riches. A queasy squid-inked strangeness that knots on in there, pulls at the butterfly wings of your imagination with sticky paws.A caught in the wilds rub that leaves the last track, “Border River”, to re-configure, river out a noir-needled brilliance that’s cinematic and lusciously wide-screen. A brooding kosmische-scape shunt, electronically re-fried, rocking out to a scattering reflection of itself as wordless phantoms backward peddle and this dissonant diamonding weaves a ruptured reprise. A meaty vitality that dines in your ear like a piece of psychical theatre.
The x-ray fist of the original artwork may now be giving the purchaser the middle finger, but I’m definitely giving Daumenbruch a thumbs up.-Michael Rodham-Heaps-
