as an intrepid reviewer for a fearless organ like Aural Pressure, one
tends to come across some pretty wacky music, as well as plenty of releases
that are trying their hardest to be as strange as humanly possible, while
actually coming across more like one of those irritating colleagues who
would describe themselves as 'krazee' with a k and two e's without thinking
twice about it. There is the occasional surprise in the line of duty that's
genuinely disturbed or disturbing, much that sounds annoyingly conventional
to one's jaded ears, and the odd album that would be pretentious if it
wasn't so damn shoddy. But very few pieces have landed on my desk ever
that are remotely as rabbitfish hatstand McStrawberry as this remarkable
slice of teutonic insanity.
"Fisch zum Frühstück" ("fish for breakfast")
is performed by four mental Germans with a completely straight face and
a concealed sense of humour that puts most of their countryfolk to shame.
is better known as surrealistic noisemonger Suspicion Breeds Confidence.
Claus van Bebber
I could find nothing in English about. Günter
Schroth looks like Dave Mustaine from Megadeth but makes music from
product barcodes via homemade hardware contraptions and software filters.
Antonia Grote-Scroth is credited with 'catering' and presumably provided
the detailed recipe for Parsi-style chicken curry that is included in
the CD booklet (with illustrations). Stir well, simmer over an open laptop
while sprinkling on the the shredded Toop,
add beef Stockhausen
(from cubes if necessary), decant into Bladder
Flask, improvise. Serves eight tracks; total cooking time, just under
I won't attempt to transcribe any of the track names as they're all long
and complex German phrases, and it doesn't really matter because the breaks
don't particularly correlate with any audible indications that one track
has become the next. The ingredients run from randomised digital oscillators,
clicks and flutters, to the chittering and squawking of electronic bestiaries
and aviaries, from rhythmic scrapes and squeaks to leaden percussive thumps
and lo-fi tape loops, all arranged sparsely yet with warmth and depth.
One moment the sounds are distant and ghostly and the next you're entirely
immersed. What's most striking is how refreshingly pleasant it
all sounds, and not in a bad way. It's like the most obtrusive, antisocial
experimental noise you can think of, only a joy to listen to. I think
this one's going to become an old favourite.