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Ikuo Akai - Langauge without Words
Black Series - 19. Ed. of 300 copies. Poppy red is the colour of Akai's cracked fusion. Their downtempo psychtronica rises and ripples like exhaust from a resin caked hookah. Registering on the Richter scale somewhere between Squarepusher (Music Is Rotted One Note) and Terje Rypdal (Odyssey) with little Thromboses of Seefeel, Deodato, Coil and The Orb congealing around the edges, Akai has an expansive sound, but leaves a lot of space, which keeps the cool cool. Exotic percussions cut the strangely metered cocaine of jazz rhythms and glitchy sequences with soothing, tropical diazapams that transform the frenetic beats into hallucinations of quiet grandeur. The gamelan/steel drum-like din offers pleasing, almost Lou Harrison moments that tweak into metamorphs of the third stream. This bitches brew is spiked throughout with tinctures of guitar psychedelia and drams of electronic chirps and whirs. And a subtly stumbling, matte finish bassline bubbles just beneath the meniscus. A long, strange trip into a morphine drip
Our Price: $19.99
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