• Jansky Noise & Speedranch - Mi^grate

    Reviewed by Richard Hurley (RobotFist)

    Jansky Noise & Speedranch - Mi^grate

    I USED to say that Speedranch Janskynoise's album Welcome To Execrate was the most unlistenable and testing album in my collection. It now has to settle for second place, cause THIS TIME IT'S PERSONAL. More headfuck, fuck you and your dog, no wave-style electronic torture that has absolutely no desire to kiss and make up. There is absolutely no hope of redemption, now, so just give up. Your arse is theirs. It's ugly, it's brutal aural evisceration and you had better not forget that. Not that you'd have much chance.

    Before music, there was sound. And this is where Speedranch and Janskynoise come from: "Turbulence is lifeforce, it is opportunity. Use turbulence in creativity and wait for your chance" notes Janskynoise in the sleevenotes. Even so, there's little point trying to describe the heavenly mix of utterly horrible sounds within Mi^grate - suffice to say that if you can't deal with Throbbing Gristle you are sure not going to be able to deal with this. You want the sounds of Sisyphus' and Tantalus' agonies in Hades? Then you got this. You want a CD to contain what it feels like to have a combine harvester mash your brain into the truly worthless muck it actually is? Then you got this.

    Only Atari Teenage Riot's Live At The Brixton Academy 1999 could even propose to sit as a bedfellow. I Was Made For Loving You sounds less like a smooth soulful number and more like the Teletubbies being force-fed rohypnol and then being liquefied in front of an audience of screaming tots whilst highly experimental, and most likely illegal, eye surgery is tried out on S Club. A pack of rabid, cybertronic, beasts let loose - with the sole intention being to grind your pathetic little frame into grout.

    This is ideal for every shallow, vainglorious, pretentious, head-stuck-up-arse, vacuous tosspot that has ever dragged the human race into the cesspit through their mere existence. This is for every facile, snobbish, little cancer that pollutes the mindset of our race with its petty little inadequacies and flaws masquerading as insecurities. For every ideal spouting wreckage that dares to even get dressed in the morning rather than stupefy in their own rancid juices. For every lowlife shit that makes the human race poorer each day they don't eat bullet brain enema. Most of all, however, it is for every single one of us that thinks they're somehow different - rather than a wretched little stain that cannot grasp the simple idea that the world would be made better by our sudden non-existence. This is the muzak playing as our elevators plummet to hell. This is war - and we are its victims. This is the CD that will really make sure that THE PARTY IS OVER!

    Nasty.

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