classic album that is wonderfully oblique and uncompromised in its formal attack on the mundane in a factory of plastic pop and cultural deprivation

In this performance, eight minutes into the set, we see him work us through a sequence of minimal electronics and, growing to no lack of complexity, the system goes array. At 17 minutes hits us with the type of techno groundwork Shuttle358 would be proud of, onto a square wave bend reminiscent of Acid Mothers Temple. A crowd witnessed what had to be a mind bending performance, the type that would leave the eyes in full white, and, perhaps, a huge wad of cotton candy?

Kyle Jessen: Sounds

Kyle Jessen brings the pain and brightness in an eager and reactionary instrument solo. The album “Sounds” carries a nostalgic aesthetic to me, like something Kaoru Abe might have grackled at a Postmodern architect's industrial bridge on a windy winter day in 1970. With an ever-changing tactic and the alertness of a young sportsman, Mr. Jessen’s saxophone could carefully pick locks from 6 yards out.

screen panning slow through a church, empty. Stops at the cross for a closer look up and down and begins to pan and zoom farther through the corridoors, more a focus on the floors. The floors turn to cobble, and then through the stairwell. Saints are kept down here. Past these relics, there is vintage wine never to be opened.

with the power of chewing gum, I command. The nurse manicure is faultlined in green gunk. Near here there is a strong man test hammer and a animatronic monkey with cymbals and we grin. More makeup! More power! More diet soda! And destroy!

the blister grew and the burn seared, white on the finger. It was a strange wound, and something observed as it happened. Next to the head the scolding water sprayed, steams from the pipes below as well. With no exit they will be boiled in their fats.

dust on the music box catches the blown speaker that wind the wide world of news into the type of broadcast ticked out from code through frozen raw telephone wires. Black birds, red eyes, cars with gaurantees lining streets at 4 way stop in fast forward, only the windows visible from the ice built up. The breath makes glass on glass.