It’s menacing, sure, right off the bat, the gurgling
static, the sine waves, the fuzz. The spoken samples emerge from the murk,
disappear back into it, reemerge. A doctor addressing a patient perhaps? Who
knows, “ESP,” who knows, you first track, you – despite the grit and the disintegration,
H A I R S A B Y S S know how to purposefully penetrate the minds of their
subjects, jolting them at a low voltage to desensitize them, then knocking them
out with a seismic burst. Their looped nightmares are immersive the noise
churning, the patterns easily attainable. Almost rhythmic. Almost.
“Untitled” swings us along on some buried mariachi
horns while pure electricity overwhelms it. And then pure electricity
overwhelms “Gliding,” the electricity itself becoming the looped pattern. By
the time they’re ready to close this out with “ESP Part IV,” they’ve proven
that they’ve already hollowed out the mind, and in fact, have been doing ESP on
you this whole time, regardless of track title. In fact, they’re in there, and
the sound of “ESP Part IV” is the sound of your complete and total submission,
already. You’re there on the operating table in the lab. You’re skull’s pried
open, there are wires and electrodes all up in it. They’re connected to a
computer, as are electrodes and wires connected to the open brain of H A I R S
A B Y S S. Something’s going on here.
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