Together / Sound Of Sunday
8 October 2007
|Together (Original Mix)||Joonas Hahmo||128||F minor||7:57|
|Sound Of Sunday (Original Mix)||Joonas Hahmo||134||F# major||8:16|
Hahmo's debut is a paean to the rest of his discography. The first of his pentad, T/SOS began this exhibition of uninhibition. The official synopsis nevertheless does not do this justice. They mentioned Pryda, a ploy that befits these toadies, the same way that a politician mentions Obama or Reagan to get people to applaud for them.
Together (Original Mix)
Along with 'One Strike, Three Anti', email, the end of smallpox, & other nice things from the 1970s, this Finnish delicacy flies so high, yet flies so unseemlily. 3:25 is all you should need to be convinced of Together's & Hahmo's Vaalbara of pleasure. The rough byssus is a welcome reality-shield. Ecstasy needs shutting off certain senses, & JH did that with the sleightiest hands imaginable. As elegant & supretemporal as this is, this nighttime Nile that whiles away with vengeance, as crystalline & lubricious as this is, Together still comes off as medial. Not bad, but not the deathliest song to ever grace the floor. The piano works where it needs to, but it amounts to a piddling handful of the distress that music needs. The few drops of ambrosia at the bottom of this medicine cup aren't coming out, & the echoing percussion can't save this asteraster. The whole song feels flat & worn out, flavourless & lightweight. This normally would not be skippable, but I recommend it to get to the next song.
Sound Of Sunday (Original Mix)
If you're wondering why I downplayed Together despite its fashion, SOS should answer your every qualm. Be ready to need resuscitation. 3:20 reveals the Earth for the first time. You never saw colour before hearing this. Every one of the myriad of miracles burns deeper than any core could be. Joonas lays it on easily at first, revealing only a couple of his devil dialytics. The background is the shadow of a fire's dreams, darkening the air beyond sight. The foreground is a frantic set of recussing beats looping & falling up & down, striking the aether they meld out of, effortlessly curving & grinding in circular irradiance. 4:33 shifts us to a new song, & it inebriates this regenerate [adjective; sic] song with an even more defiant throb of anger, unafraid to throw pitchblende or spit scarlet acid ab initio. This part is simpler, & more burnt than the rest. The gameshow intro is startlingly & threatingly dreamlike, piling on the monumental diversity in this unforgettable perfusion. Hyperfusion returns, though. The third climax begins with another mind-twisting fakeout, showing Hahmo's unending infinity of boundlessness. This new tune completes the climaximalism, a brick-thick forest of sounds & streams, the slowly falling tragedy incinerating whatever passivity sound had. There's nowhere for him to go but to creatively replay the tunes but at different bars to each other. Tattoo this on yourself & your loved ones & your unloved ones: SOS is the greatest thing to ever happen to ears.