Pornographic Novel EP
трип Records (Trip)
Out 21st August
From Russia with love, Vladimir Dubyshkin features in The Electro Review today. His latest release once again bears the трип hallmark, known for excellence the world over. This provocatively titled EP is bound to get the attention of all who pass by. Because it's music, we can adopt a healthy sense of humour. In the 90s, Russian pornography exploded thanks to the internet making it suddenly available to all who could pay. And there are a lot who do, with some 35% of all internet traffic (see source) related to the subject. Perhaps this article will flag as one, I hope so. It does conjure the question as to whether it is ethical and what is this phenomenon an expression of? Are a good percentage of us secret voyeurs? Why? Does the seemingly natural dropping of boundaries reflect into those who watch, and their standards drop in unison producing a societal feedback loop? Should we care? Philosophy aside, it's time we listened to the music.
With a heavy beat that throbs and pulses with siren like scratching sounds, Russian Porn Magazine begins. The music rises in amplitude, pushing the frantic rhythms harder. The percussion swells as new drums layer in, adding quickness to the already persistent tempo. Melodic tones are slowly dressed across the top and they sink into the entire mix until their chimes convey silence across the bass. This is only brief, however, as a break in the fabric of the track releases the pushing and enchanting rhythm. New eerie tones with discordant qualities offer a novel angle, they build and fade as if never there. Frantic techno beats insist on full-on dancing as an entire room of people are begged to join the dance floor.
Next, warping synth tones waver in a melodic bracket which repeats on itself over ever increasing effect. The phrase begins to shift and then a heady bass drum is added to the mix. It throws down another head-first dancing rhythm which breaks the tension with its clarity. We should be dancing to this. Chirping synth tones mark a cheery melody while deep down and lovely bass pounds away at the tempo. The music builds with another melodic entry, breathing tones harmonise and add buoyancy to the swirling mixture of percussion and composed euphoria. The Return Of The Drunken Son makes it sound like a really good time.
Now we get to Driving The Bus. This sounds fun straight away as mechanical sounds grumble and crunch to the sound of a quickening cymbal. Bass drum resonates in the echo chamber as the repeating rhythmic phrase bashes the dents out of the system. Huge vibrating walls of presence shudder with the continual fuel that is beat and layer. Ever-present tempo froths and coils as each element is given space to thrive. Now we're getting somewhere, a screeching sound lets us pause for breath. Who gets on? Who cares, let's go. Forward facing and sheer energy bring this techno and rhythm sensation into the stereo for us all to get aboard.
Next, a wall of synthesiser hits us with a rapid repeating chime. Crackling sounds made from distorted vocals and strange effect bring out a humanist edge which chants in time to a building beat. As the percussion finds a crest to surf on the music plateaus into a neat section of dance with a cymbal white water splash that surfaces in between the strokes. Deaf Artist perhaps asks us to examine the world of a person expressing more than the usual percentage of expression in visual form. Mute musician, blind writer, tasteless mother-in-law, the list goes on.
Now we are in the Company of 302s. These scattery beats hit us with frantic rapidity and overlayers of intuitive strikes. The pulse is amplified as the dancing synthesiser tones are adorned with shattering cymbals and jogging snare which keeps us on our toes. It's a good place to be as the music is destined once again to keep people dancing. Another layer of melody is shoved into the queue with a VIP ticket to the front. They are let in straight away and head for the stage where a keyboard waits. Extra keys chug along in symphonic glee as the rampaging rhythms continue onward through the valley.
The last number starts with a vocal sample that loops to the rhythm of a walking bass drum. Woody tones build and then begin to create a percussive harbour for ships to pull in for anchor. And they do, a forest of engines and sails emerges from the horizon and makes neat lines in the gently chopping waters. The vocal returns, to mark the next section of sound. Manic tones like a touch-dial phone sing out in catchy compositions before the music throws down another blast of rhythmic tension. Amphetamine Freak certainly has all the right ingredients for frantic and worry-free exertion. Who needs drugs when we've got Vladimir Dubyshkin eh?
Pornographic Novel by Vladimir Dubyshkin is out now on Bandcamp
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Rowan Blair Colver for The Electro Review.