We find with surprise that the songs contained in Brett Naucke’s ‘The Visitor’ have been extracted from separate releases recorded between 2011 and 2012. In spite of this, The Visitor sounds cohesive, purposive and colloidally blended, like a group of themes from moments in a film.
This is one feature of music that appeals to 20Jazzfunkgreats because 20jazzfunkgreats has grown a monstrous visual cortex, and receives an above average dopamine kick from the uses of imagination that music like this, abstract yet functional, facilitates. Or it may be that 20jazzfunkgreats rigidly assorts music using cognitive schema grafted from the DNA of 1975-1985 B-movies, Sci-Fi and avant-garde schlock.
Today, our sense-making apparatus processes the signals broadcasted by Brett Naucke into grainy footage of the rusted geometries of cities abandoned as a consequence of a holocaust of some kind, and that we have survived. Although this could ‘simply’ be deindustrialisation (cities flattened by the lashing of invisible monsters), we place our bets on an exogenous happening (‘The Visitor?’): a mutated virus, the second coming of Nemesis, the validation of the Grey Goo hypothesis, Triffids? Pick your plague. The endgame is desolation, the slow reabsorption of Babylonian infrastructures into Earth like sutures into flesh.
The Visitor reminds us of the soundtrack that Klaus Schulze made for Angst –not in a directly sonic way (the only beats we find in the Visitor are in the wonderfully titled Cellar Beat, and they are not really beats but the echoes of spectres of humans crawling among the rubble) but in its tension: the dark omen of smoke in the sky, the carcass of a deer methodically stripped, & dumped into a stream, voices in the distance or struggling through the curtains of noise of a dead channel, all of the possible and stark manifestations of the trade-off between our need for human contact, and the threat of death in a world that has literally gone to the dogs.
Yet also become blindingly beautiful, something that is most apparent in the ‘Endless Royalty’ that concludes the album – synthetic noises burp and drip away as water is freed from its metal shackles, the drone that summarises ascension engulfs us with its stroboscopic spin, conifer leaves stroke the rays of the sun dawning upon us, we walk out of a forest crashing through the concrete of this big dead city, alien visitors into a world reset.
You can acquire The Visitor from Nihilist Records.
Feuerbahn’s carnivorous blitzkrieg is another component of the apocalyptic scenario we described above, which we would connect to the arrival of a gang of marauders/condottieri/slavers/dogs of the wasteland awful like Nietzsche’s feral children, optimising their diet and maximising their utility after a trust-busting Deus Ex Machina broke down the state’s monopoly on violence.
We should however avoid to fallaciously ascribe the same motivations, demeanours and modi operandi to the many factions warring in the apocalyptic aftermath (hence their clashing). They would vary in their colours, and in their battle hymns.
Trimphwagen leads us to imagine Feuerbahn (way of fire, we think) clad in Sägezahnmuster camouflage, stern & ferocious yet harbouring a strange melancholy for the world that was and was left behind, from their necks dangle silver chains with photos of their dead darlings, their guitars wail like hounds at the grave of their masters.
Away they rumble & pound with Sturm und Drang intensity, making the most of the power of electricity wherever they can find it. Their advance has something akin to idealism in its Millenarianist incarnation, a propulsion like Wipers’ if they had advanced through twisted Central European roads instead of linear American Highways, the hallucinatory qualities of a BLANGA epic, playing at a industrial funeral instead of an acid inception.