Ah sweet techno. Your drums hitting with a thud, like so many metal rods, tree trunk thick, pounding into mud.
Ah sweet techno. Your filtered notes always suggesting collapse. Their analogue edges carrying the seeds of their decay.
Ah sweet techno. No matter what I am feeling I can rely on you to bludgeon all other thought from my mind, like some scorched earth, aural prozac.
Today’s track comes from L/F/D/M and is a suitably remorseless techno. I was once told that in sellotape factories the rolls are so large and the static they generate so strong that they create force fields between the machines. If you’re stood in the middle of one them right now then this is the sound in your head.
L/F/D/M – Dance, you awful cunt
This is taken from the LP Music Without Discipline, out today on Ecstatic Recordings. You can buy it right here.