14 May 2012
|The Sky (Original Mix)||Mat Zo||7:56|
|The Sky (Extended Mix)||Mat Zo||8:42|
|The Sky (Club Mix)||Mat Zo||7:26|
The Sky (Original Mix)
The first of Damage Control flared up. Unlike Lucid Dreams or Easy, this has a usual cover. But this would be the last taste before He holed Himself away to perfect.
Afterwards, the EM added just two minutes to each end, in a horrific, Procrustean failure to render it more 'usual' & 'normal'. This is an irradiant example of how Mat Zo cannot be genred, & how music should be untethered. But forget the corporate stooges: another version of 'heaven' is the right name for this.
Unlike the extension, the OM is air & water to us. You'll get it in DC. & what a skyful you'll get.
The click clacks of the EM replaced his pregustative (foretaste) intro, which is the thesis statement & thetic flesh mapped out for us, in violin form, already setting the mind tumbling down razor stairs. But this could kill more than stairs do (hundreds of thousands pa), since the strike is so internal.
A wave of chordophonic Psilocybe becomes an inkrip, hypernovaing into full maelstrom with sequences too dark to concur, nearly too contrasting to exist. This warning to prepare is a postnuclear threat, but the neutron-quantum bomb will surely be made. For now, relax in the unboiled oceans.
'One-two-three' pumps the melody; fittingly, too: the whole song spikes cryptomnesia in you. The tune, if acoustified & jauntised for banjos, would sound at home in the 30s. & this part is calm, though constantly efferviscing, like the sea. Even though this section is softer, there is no attempt to moderate to accline the audience- this evergreen dene is here to flip brain cells.
Yin-yanging through the stem & cortexes, this meadow pairs a simple, idiostalgic beat with roral, metallic whining, & a brusque future-electrophone that is outshadowed by an even more serrating growl, beating up & up, higher & more tonitruant, more keraunic, more hurricanous: until the clouds burst into a mindfield.
This relaxed playtime is a heavy sedative. You could cut me up into cubic chunks for weeks after a second of this; I'd feel nothing- it is aural el Dorado, a void where reason goes to suffocate into nonexistence. Nothing happens, yet all does: Zohar found a wormholy shirt & wore it.
The most existentialist song continues to de-affirm our beliefs when the previously benign, wibbling up-&-down effects & spectacles join & overthrow the dark side in no time flat. 2:33 is the greatest turn-of-face the world has known- Arnold was predictable, & Anakin was inducted. In one torn piece of a second, every ingredient, from the back to the front, from the top to the bottom, from the right to the left, became its evil twin. But vantawhite is the theme:
I wrote the lyrics about a year ago. “The Sky” is about that great feeling when you first fall in love. You feel like you are walking on air and you are a bit scared to open up but you know you have found your way home and there’s no better feeling in the world. It’s a very personal text as It was my boyfriend who inspired me to write it.
Her voice floats on top of a dramatised, desperatised form of the tune, more repetition, less inflection or variety: this is how to take breath. Every piece is separated by a KTCH snap, satisfying in places undiscovered. The next sonatina is a more skeptic, grounded investigation. Without the softer parts, the beating is more forthright than ever, even distorting the siren to a new size. Although no words can replicate this experience, I will & must relate the dangers of pleasure.
The style is chapelic for the wiɲing electro. A sound reduced to its formula is what we need to collect before Hell shatters.
The first clueing of ours is the 5:22 muted ᐺᐻᗁໃṉἒ, a whine that even when drowned in pitchblende, still pierces & lacerates the nerve. The post-blare gasps make this more real than the Moon, more dangerous than a redback pie. Each blare of the electric whip is a quasar flare, enough to strip the world of our seas with a glance. Without a roof to hit, this perfectly shows what the brain can do & understand. 6:23 is a new type of star: say goodbye to quasars, blazars, & pulars. This climax is a Zohar.
Unleashed, the tune & its instrument of ᑈ-rays plunge & plumb the airless, spaceless antitime that is the place our brains can only view. Climbing further & further into superexistence, The Sky shows what music should be, what life should be, & what life would be if we seized the means of production.
The postscript is adorable & tranquil. Contrasts work.
The Sky (Music Video)
Despite being monotonous & antispecial, this is one of the better AB vids: something happens in it.
The Sky (Club Mix)
Despite the kickdrum, this is no more assimilated than the OM. It's just as antinormal- the elektrᓉ screams & humanised, industrialised humanism confirm that. Unlike Ebola & HIV, this is catchy. But it's more than listenable. It's the height of humanity captured. A slight nod to the OM is improved with the thinnest bells, topping off the night's lament. The following elᘠktrotrasħ is a slow tsunami, drawing out the guttural high notes on a rack, slamming the Anemoi. The melting LSD glacier, while neoconscious, shows that this is really an alternative mix, not a CM. But it's worth it anyway, as the bells prove. This time, the Zohar star echoes, through time & hearts. The climax, before leaping, cherubly seraphates at us before revamping the sky. The focus is away from the angelic screech, & now on the more keyed, variegated tune, which was always there, but now transshines, retro-anti-lighting up, & downing the sound. The Sun falls out of The Sky & back into the Panthalassa to close off the homo mirabilis manifesto.
- Still a good cult-examination though.
- Workers of the world, unite!