Limbc, from Allston, Massachusetts, utilizes disruptive electronics to juxtapose tranquility and mayhem, injecting pulses and charges over synth soundscapes like computer viruses that gradually reduce the integrity and functionality of a machine. If you imagine that a computer’s CPU functions like a human brain, these elements introduced to the processing functions act like attacks on an electronic limbic system, which – whoa! – sounds an awful like if you said “Limbc” out loud. Probably not a coincidence. By the end of Limbc’s side of this split on Property Materials, your computer may still be functioning, but it’s certainly way more under the influence of the invading code than your influence anymore. The takeover may be hostile, but there isn’t a single shot fired, as Limbc’s nuanced and textural approach washes over the terrain and evolves along with it.
J. Bagist is only interested in navigating Sewer City, 2065, and getting the heck out of there (probably).
The Bostonian and Property Materials head raconteur drips synth weirdness on his side of the split, as “Riots in the Vegetable Garden” and “Alien Blur Dissipates in Gutter Twilight” explain all you need to explain about what’s about to happen, what you’re about to hear. The creeping decay of Bagist’s long-form explorations of the fictional city inhabit every corner of every note and rhythm, every triggered effect and synth patch. You wallow in it for a while, getting the feel of the place, darting down side streets, checking your map, hoping like hell you’re not being chased by any… Oh, crap. Almost three-fourths of “Alien Blur” features a blaring klaxon effect that essentially makes you feel like you’ve been pinpointed by a hovering searchlight. It’s exhilarating, and awesome, and makes me want to run and get the hell out of Sewer City. Fortunately, it’s highly unlikely I’ll be alive in 2065, so.
Did I mention this tape has a green glitter shell? I didn’t? Well, there you go.
--Ryan
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