16 April 2012
|Tiburon (Original Mix)||Nitrous Oxide||7:29|
|Tiburon (Sunny Lax Remix)||Nitrous Oxide||6:25|
Firmly out of Dreamcatcher days, Krzysztof opened the future. First with the title.
Can We Please Now Appreciate Good Titles
It Means 'Shark'
& it feels like a frenzy. iPeople was just a taste of the future. This is the π-course meal & dessert.
Every year has at least one song with a seraphic tune. There was a beauty bumper crop ab initio (though there were fewer things releases), & the bottom fell out in 2016. The jannah harvest has slowed to a dry trickle. Style is also significant; it peaked in 2014, & we should return. Does that mean conformity? No, it means that each song has a hyperindividualist innovation. N2O did this within the confine of his own isntantly identifiable style. So get at all costs this superfuturisation of tune & medium.
Tiburon (Original Mix)
Oats never felt this playful. The coltish, flirtatious thirty seconds set the world stage for a Quint-feast. The untraceable vocals & slooping up bubbling are yet more explayful madness, the other musical Carrolling. Within just a short span, Pretkiewicz experimented into postquantum music, with his acoustic beat next to a robotic curvescape. This robot will return.
For now, it's catchier than any disease can be. A samba, a pattern, a roll of this pangalactic neurolatry is tiberine. & the tune isn't even here yet.
The pregustation pseudo-tune itself has the final wonder stripped, & compels more than any god can. The zero-gravity way it keeps up the tension after the robot rests is Hawkingesque, lightly plodding the air & bending minds already warped by tetradekeracts.
Against the watery tocks, the tripartite fuligin ice beat harder & higher, ducking in & out of quiescence & loudness, before dropping into the bizarrest, peripetist climax of all times, ever.
From the somber, sleeking synth, we free-drop without warning or pretasting into the most skin-grinding, futurest ἒไරලҬЯѺṱṜḁṦḦ in human mind-ability. The splitting & pulverising can't be matched. Holding a tune while expanding human planes is tough, but KP did it. The tripiece returned with a new tantalisation- a formless, yet piercing farragin of tones that per se own nothing, in their shapeless inexistence, but everything in our mind.
There should be a beatless mix of everything released alongside the OM. He closed on a fully untempered robofestival, as he should have. Gost bless him.
Tiburon (Sunny Lax Remix)
LM's holy serrature is his own tachyonic blend. It takes real passion to make every second worth the while, but they did it. The watery ripples & dub kuts, all gapped & timed to the attosecond, excel what elektrotṝẫṧḩ ḉẤṋ ṙέάιίψ Ђә. This is true from the intro, to the centre induglence, to the outttro. In between those, we have the tripiece altered enough to be new, plus the first of Marton's reducto-musical rasures.
This means an incredulously simple 'tune', or hook, more like, which somehow becomes the brainstem-flayingest pleasure drooled at by humankind.
In the simplified climax, that is focused on the pure tune, rather than a qwuirky way to present it, the speakers burst with every thrust, comminuting the air & waves. The gloriest silk from bees, a drop to analogise the OM's, is SL's last preluding second to the tuneful climax, a forcedbrow anger that will never fade.
4:55 starts the peracution, & 5:25 concludes it. This trio of notes is beyond matter, past energy. This is a new concept altogether.