Liner Notes

Premium Banana - Para ti (2020).

Un pequeño rito: Palabras ahogadas, parte de un mantra neurotico y decadente, reverberan en una acúsitca arcana al cruzar y disectar una fabrica abandonada que continúa su producción fantasmal, un quiebre de procesis repetitivos, maquínicos, anomalos y desarmados. Su misterio reside en su ambiente vagamente familiar. Las piezas se han oxidado hace tiempo, pero estas siguen percutiendo su fonorítmica. El acogasto de un llamado que no desea ser respondido, profecía fallida e imposible de reanimar, una antigua alarma pre-programada que avisa con retraso un peligroque ya existe que avisa con retraso un peligro que ya existe como presente. Ni epílogo ni prologo: Toda Articuliación es un sample. Una aparición. La conjuración de la voluntad de una inteligencia arificial contenida con el alma, desencadenada en la repetición del circuito del tiempo estático, reiterado y plegado en sí mismo. Vectores planetarios insertados como un virus: La ilusón de la libertad. Una utopía descartada en lo abismal. La fe no nos necesita. El fin te da la bienvenida desde el futuro, singularidad celestial.

ihä - espacios interrumpidos (2021)

Stopping is not a concrete or fixed act; it is an elusive process which always lingers, stretching, far from being an instant, fugitive, but just as fragile. Speed and delicacy in tension as they collide, exploding in a slow, imperceptible way, but containing an enormous force within, pulsating, inscribing the experience of the intensity of time in the sound and in a serenity of hydric throbs intertwined in entangled sways. It is something difficult to pull off. The brake is nowhere to be found. And there is no way to know if it has ever been there. We inhale, we exhale. We feel how we have been displaced every time we attempt not to continue, every time we slip away and try to listen to what is underneath silence. Even in the most imperturbable stillness, which in its maximum state is unattainable, it seems as though something moves in a rough manner between streams, blurry evanescent figures and slow, calm, yet constant breathings which cover everything like thick and dense fog. Something disquieting prowls erratically between what is left unsaid, attempting to seep in through the spaces of contemplation. It threatens those who take refuge in the eye of the hurricane. And then it goes away. We are left drifting away with the memory of a distant tepid echo, with the hands extended, holding the resonant void. As we reach this point, there is nothing left to do but to plunge in firmly, losing the fear of drowning, daring to navigate in the depths by crossing the reflections on the surface, leaving behind mere spar-kles which fade away slowly as we get lost.

Talismán - Love Buzz / Jedan-Osam

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