Christopher Tilmouth’s debut EP as Krystal Math comes fully formed. The Manchester artist, like many electronic producers, draws from the nocturnal vibes of his home city, soaking them in as he traverses the pavements, injecting them into his music. The nocturnal vibes soak the pavements and seep into the water supply, from which they flow throughout the greater metropolitan area, the suburban landscape, farmlands, undersea, to America, where they wash ashore and make a beeline to my speakers. My cassette copy of “Night Tones” was insanely wet when it arrived on my doorstep, shivering, scared, alone. I took pity on it and let it inside my house. I made it take off its shoes first, because I keep that kind of house, OK? Still, it wanted me to shed my inhibitions once the music started jammy-jamming all up in my cockpit, which is what I call the room in my house where I keep all my tapes and other music and media ephemera. Might it be because of the aviator headphones? Who knows, this isn’t the Memphis Belle, and I sure ain’t Matthew Modine. It wouldn’t have even known what I was talking about, this “Night Tones,” and this Krystal Math hits the cortex way less harsh than how I imagine crystal meth does, because kids, don’t ever do crystal meth. This high is due to the deep IDM electronic clusters, the downtempo minor-key melodies, the rain-distorted neon signifying enclaves of human habitation.
Krystal Math courses through your eardrums to your brain stem and jostles your feet out of their stupor. Sure, the subsequent movement probably makes you look like you’re a few cards short of a full deck, but isn’t that what this kind of music’s out to do? Crumble those inhibitions till they’re nothing but emotional rubble. Also, if you’re like me, you’ll stay completely still and just examine the intricacies of the music as they bubble and shift across the auditory spectrum. You and I are nerds that way.
--Ryan Masteller
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