I can't break down my love for this new TomasAndersson 12” to the kind of buzzwords that would explain its totalitarianeffect on even my own hermetic listening patterns. This ishead-banging techno without the flashy Raumschmiere-isms, crystalline andcolorful, music to stomp along to: wild, light, heartbeat stompin’ action.Bpitch Control
I can say that this has spun for the loneliestof squinty morning teas to the last speed-driven Saturday night and a hundredmiles in between, those patterns like electric dominos falling inside mysternum and twitching with each eyebrow in slow approach to a sleep thatflickers. Shit is tweaked, reallyhyper-minimal, ecstatic-based though tight as drum.
Andersson works insquealing highs and rolling lows as firm as the resolve with which they’rewhittled into pulsing blasted fragments, rolled into inhuman repeat andextra-human stutter. With this, he is swinging Bpitch back into alabel of plastic anthems, no subtleties allowed; it is absolute,button-mashed, BIG electro.
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