To morph with my machines into the rampant technique of synthetic sonic dissonance has infinite consequences and exposes the ear to the inflections of the space of sacrificial violence of noise becoming sound/ a trajectory of hellucination/ Intervals and strange swarms of silence/ each stop or interval enacts a closure of the composition that is both unexpected and unintended/ The machine begins and ends under its own volition/ I am a servo mechanism flicking switches and pushing sliders/ Indifference as a conceptual cognitive act drive sounds to pass through the chaotic perilous oscillation that something else is about to violate the sensibility of the as yet unheard/ Improvision and extroversion are they only limitations I bring to the creation of my polyphonic compositions" I make my inner journeys that I can only measure with my emotions "/There is a tension of expectation which loops through tracks creating a coherent aesthetics of technique//unable to escape the assault of sound emeshing in a hovering fade out of a single enigmatic signal/ In track two Steve Handsome Bite piano traces out the melodic foreground to creshendo of strings slashing the track moving it towards reckless percussive interruptions/ What cannot or does not want to be heard?/an impatience with speed the taste for the velocity of the syntheziser at times is overwhelming/ accelerating into the imaginary future of cyborgs and alien beings/ The syntheziser illuminates the molecular structure of the tones and notes being executed/ We often hear what is happening at the sub atomic level/ A throbbing depth anonymous until now seeps away into a leakage of ruptured attack and decay/ Sounds collide and collude in symbiosis of notational conspiracy/ the ear is stretched to the limits of hearing and becoming more than an excess of locomation dies away to metallic percussive edge of resonance with swarm of energy which haunts the objects of performance/ Re-sounding drums flood the aural landscape with explosive dynamic of analogue floating time within pulsed digital time/ a taste for envelope follower to decay into thirst for orgy of blasted love collides and nothing is prohibited on the celestial paino noisy as the body itself settles as warning signs to escape impact on the suffering ears limit to jagged edge of analogue dialogue/
It just never begins/Exist Not/ multiple snare repeats echo chamber of marching feet who have long been silent salvaged from the wreckage of electric circuits/relies on insistent beats in the distance of resonant bass fills the sonic mechanism of noise reproduction/ Menda Is Back/ Cuban back beat radio signals the womens voices call from across the Atlantic ocean to the Islands of unknown acoustic terrain under the enigma of transparent distortion fills the gap of becoming noise ratio is zero intensity cut-up by oblivion of space empty of velocities circle of synthesizer codes/ Prudentia of Null/

The music of the Spheres is almost audible/ In Stellar Gum we hear the slow drone of the machinic post industrial vocal datatrash fading in and out of atomic solary latancy/drowned in the matter of swarms of synth tones fill the empty space with howl of electric human humm mantra chants the hieroglyphics of ancient silence wrought eating away the rust of elastic voice stretched to the depth of anonymous contrapuntal intoxication of rhythmic interludes/the poetry of motion/ Cluster of Grapes/