If Braindance and IDM were descriptions of the aims of that music. To appeal to the head, the intellect as well as the feet. Then there needs to be something else to describe dance music that is made entirely to exist within the mind. Something so personal that it would whither and shrink if experienced in a group.
Maybe this was the true calling of Braindance. Not as a catch-all for Aphex Twin’s (and Rephlex’s) output but an attempt at naming the next stage in the evolution of the clubber. The onanism of mind altering substances in a communal group giving way to a purely personal experience. A rejection of Ecstasy’s insidious oneness and an embracing of a personal connection with the music, to the exclusion of the world.
Cold Name’s Intent to Kill isn’t in some undanceable time signature. It’s not obtuse. It’s perfectly possible to dance to its techno. It just doesn’t seem to want you to.
Its drums envelop like a thick black ooze. Suspending you in an aural sensory deprivation chamber. Around you you hallucinate what it’d be like, being inside a bass bin at a mega-club. No, actually being the bin; at one with its wood and paper and rubber and plastic. Oscillating for the delight of the big room crowd singular in the knowledge of what you are and what you do. Divorced, in your distortions and pulsations, from everything else. As if all the bodies and the architecture were just a complex feedback chamber for your own personal enjoyment.
Inside your bass-bin-head you hear the words of Bob, and the occasional sound of fire being recorded in the red.
Cold Name’s first cassette will be out soon on Living Tapes.