Mike Connolly’s Failing Lights project has been pretty hit-and-miss to date, maybe more miss than hit if truth be told. Some of the material’s been known to sit in a bleak rut for ten minutes at a time, gathering little more than bedsores and buboes. This is a much more active and interesting listen, taking the wrecked ambient avenue into more together territory.
Like all his best material away from Hair Police and Wolf Eyes the sound here is so debased that it’s almost organic. The cracked beetle shell static that he gets from pushing his equipment that one nudge further is all over Black Breath. Moving through four loosely defined mini-suites, from whistling lulls and fire extinguisher storm clouds, he stops along the way to produce queasy melody buzzes. This is an unexpected grounding of his style; it’s as if he’s been Kafkaed into a purple syrup-supping Bee. The only time this tape gets on the expectedly aggressive tip is the feedback electric spit of the second piece, lightning ripping from his fingers like Palpatine with cramps. If your pink spray painted side refuses to play, don’t panic, it’s the black side that carries the music. It is a very apt choice.
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