There is something enigmatic about the idea of a goddess, a sense of mystery and power that is at the same time subtle. Goddess, the duo, give little away in the sterile cover photo of their latest Modularfield release. Faces obscured by flowers, minimal movement. It is as if they are posing for a surrealist still life, but once the cassette starts to roll, then all bets are off.
Distorted and creeping electronics seems to be Goddess’s stock in trade and on the opener, backdrops change in intensity as the ground is eaten up. There are attempts to overwhelm the hum of a generator and the clash of knives as a touch of humanity through a badly tuned radio sneaks through the aether. A marimba and insects completely change the feel, opening up a foreboding and slightly unwelcoming landscape. There is plenty of space here, but not the sort that feels comfortable, with a possible threat at every turn. At other times however, it feels as though you are being led somewhere — but with the electronics trying to trick you, is there really nothing to fear?
It is not all alienating confusion though. There is an otherworldly element at play, but tied to something within reach. The distant hum of a space station with roars and blistering effects hanging around you, cloying in an atmosphere that is floating and rhythm-less, seen through the convex lens of a space helmet. There is a touch of John Carpenter about some of the pieces, and it all builds toward a body of work that seems somehow removed from population, spaces and places seen with a sense of isolation and the odd surge of melancholy. Generally, the album drifts lightly tethered, so when a beat does kick in, it is a quite a surprise — but the energy injected is welcome, briefly clearing the air. It is the disparity between the familiar and strange that Goddess tinker with so well. You can see some recognisable flowers bursting into lurid bloom, but all around is off-kilter undergrowth, blurry and sinister, like a documentary of some flesh-eating jungle plant. Things drift in and out of focus, and leave you grasping as keyboards pulse tentatively like curling tendrils.This is a curious and unsettling listen. Just when you think you have it pegged, they throw another curveball and it all drifts out of reach again. There are nods to ’80s German underground electronic artists in places, but really Goddess have created their own spot, tucked away in a hall of mirrors, leaving you puzzled and impressed.
-Mr Olivetti-
