The pop culture splatter of this square cut lathe's cover isn't a good indicator of the contents. Like riding the brain cortex on a crank-handle railroad cart, Jazzfinger's lo-fidelity routes are gorgeously gritty trails in electric drone. Even though it moves slightly left from their recent release of improvised melancholia, these two cuts create an idyll from structures and melodies that aren’t really there.
Their penchant for sustained tones is joined here with a rhythmic and cage-rattled bobbing. The mellifluous piano slough of "Orange Sauce" is evidence that they can counter drone with percussive celerity. A stem of jungle bird calls slowly reveals itself to be rattling metallic percussion, and not the slightest bit jungle related, but the air is still thick enough to be their dankest number to date.
Coming from the batch stamped 'lo-fi' in their vaults, the flipside, "Peace Factor Fashion," is a scratch of stretching bone and muscle. It might contain a moan of a melody but it is still very obviously a melody. If this was played on a horn the noise-jazz set would be on their knees in worship. A burr throated growl of a black pulse, steady as the room around it slowly crumbles, coaxes misfortune from the falling piano notes. With a bedaubing of this track and its veiled elements in something oily and dirty, this has the duo still sitting years deeper in the fog than the everyday drone hoi polloi.
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