#technical mentality

“Giving Up On Me” develops like a nebula, billowing from the darkness on a bed of enveloping chords as tiny points of light spark and join, refracting off the cosmic dust to recede and cede their place to the next emanation. If the surface sounds random, there seems a fierce intelligence here, shaping a narrative, or more precisely, allowing the narrative to emerge without drawing attention to the creators. The ears are attentive to the process, the coalescence of motes of notes as they form themselves into a whole. Self-awareness brings friction, the jostle for position evolves and deep swathes of minor chords speak of eternal expansion that supersedes seasonal contraction. As the track reaches outwards, a haze of distortion and dissonance sweeps through as if skin is being shed. Momentary, natural discomfort to allow further growth, a declaration of selfhood. 

“Sunset In A Server” extends the atmosphere with long microtonal drones that build like a detuned church organ, folding inwards to blossom out with a patient insistence on being. Individual notes develop into amoebic melodies above the drones demanding acknowledgment, staking their place in the vast timeless vacuum then fading into an amorphous silence.  

These two epics sound ego-free but nonetheless human. A synesthetic demonstration of insignificance that communicates deep feeling and understanding, a willingness to commit acts of creation that speak in a timorous but persuasive manner of their intrinsic right to exist. Spacey but grounded, vast without bombast, effective without affectation, Technical Mentality is an album of boundless possibility that seems to exist outside both time and space. If gravity gets you down, come float with Long Distance Poison in their world of desolate beauty.