Tuesday, 8 April 2014

OH/EX/OH - New Horizon (no label)




A deep-space probe beams back the latest OH/EX/OH album from the Oort Cloud.  The extreme distance entails a lengthy downloading time of several decades.  In the intervening years between its initial arrival and its sonic tail crashing into the hard-drives of the automated laboratory equipment absorbing its weak signal, wars, droughts, and political upheavals have come and gone; the blue progress bar proceeding without care. 
The lab is now empty and unused.  Thick dust coats every surface, the windows empty of glass.  No one is present to see one of the few unbroken screens burp into life.  A speaker crackles, startling a squirrel tearing the stuffing from an over-turned office chair.  Its ears not equal to the task of comprehending the mysterious voices, lush drones, and beautiful drifting curtains of sound that resound within the room.  A wall-mounted cabinet rattles in sympathy with a particularly loud rumble of bass; the vibrations causing some forgotten tool to fall through half-opened doors, clattering against cracked tiles, rolling into a patch of vines that descend from ceiling to floor, choking a coat-stand.  The sharp pings, static, hiss and crackle would have confused anyone present; is this the music for which the equipment has been waiting so long, or some file corruption from the background hum of the cosmos?  Does it even matter?  A van speeds past in the distance, the soft whoosh and whine of its passage briefly disturbing the fifth track ‘Signals’; the sad drone complementing the vehicles fading disturbance.  Short, melodic interlude ‘No Way Home’ fills the space with slow resigned grace.  Shortly after, the skipping tech-dub rhythmic diversion of ‘The Kessel Run’ swirls dust particles into the air.  The sound settles once again into an unhurried swaying glide; beautiful metallic tones and buzzing murmurs interweave, at one point resembling an endlessly burring cello.  ‘New Horizon’ eventually begins to draw to a close with synthesised breath and an aching melancholy tune.
Someone enters the room, the music stops.
Download 'New Horizon' here.

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