Kodäma
Palo Santo

Philly's Metasplice attempt to churn your mind to sour cream - no cheese - on their crushing debut album. With only a pair of 12"s and cassette to their name, Kenneth_Lay and V. Hold have solidified a signature sound of sludgy, bone-grinding techno lashed with waywardly free noise and cosmic bleeps, at times like a drugged-up Mills paying homage to Sun Ra with Wolf Eyes, at others like nothing else on this planet. They've found a steadfast champion in Rabih Beani aka Morphosis, a confirmed jazz and techno fiend, whose Morphine Records have thus far issued the bulk of their gear, and finds a close, if saltier and cruder analog in their linear psychedelic brawn. So, what does it sounds like? A f**king headf**k, that's what. From the top, an effluence of roiling kicks, steampress snares and teeth-aching noise manifests 'Arterial Protocol', whilst the slowly pendulous gait of 'Prismatic Sway' comes off like a SITS cut rendered in hydrochloric acid, and our attentions are piqued by the mixture of pivoting court squeaks and Terrence Dixon-like roll in the album's quietest, curious moment 'Cylindrics'. At their sludgiest, 'Novaglide' feels like we're submerged to the neck in slow-drying cement for the era-flaying extreme drone dissonance of 'Concrode' to churn skin from bone, mind from body, and 'Micrograval Spheres' could almost be Nate Young doing techno, washing us up at the cosmically expanding noise churn of 'IV Phenol' feeling like we've just had a three day bender. For those willing to commit, it's a thoroughly recommended trip.