CDR: Dead Sea Liner DSL01 [2006]

Purple Weighted Pellets Of Despair

Regular readers / visitors to the Aural Pressure website will know of my feelings towards MySpace.com and all who sail in her. In case you are unawares here's a clue... I have come to call it My waste of fucking Space.com... and with good reason. In my humble, totally unbiased in any way, opinion 99.9999% of the people who have a presence on that website are a sad "look at me and all my so called friends that I've amassed" sack of shit. Read my blog. Read about my uneventful and unfulfilling life. Listen to my new music release. I'm great. Buy my CDR. Love me. Love me. Here's my picture. Am I not cute and cuddly? No, no, no. Get a fucking life. Stop wasting your time and smell the fucking coffee. No-one cares about you. Not even your own family. You are a subject of ridicule. I laugh at your insecurities. You all make me puke. Mind you... that is only my opinion.

Occasionally, very occasionally, I find the odd 0.0001% reason to actually thank the Gods that MySpace.com exists. Here is one such reason. Actually more than one reason... as you'll see elsewhere on these very pages. Allan Upton is that reason. Allan Upton from the black heart of the South coast of England. The man behind Dead Sea Liner records and Textured Bird Transmission. A visionary (well I like to think so) who has set up his own record label to bring an extraordinary variety of different music genres to the masses for a mere pittance in monetary terms. £2.00, including postage, a pop per CDR to you sir. A bargain. A steal. Bite the hand and get out fast. You can find out more at www.deadsealiner.co.uk.

"Purple Weighted Pellets of Despair" is, appropriately enough, the first CDR release from Allan and his new record label. The packaging is on the plain side, as reflected in the price to pay, but even I won't grumble at that. It's all about the music man. The music. And what a glorious heavenly racket this one tracked 28+ minute opus is. A combination of drones and all out adventurous noise that has the spectre of blackest / darkest ambient surrounding it. Like a Sirens call it beckons unto you. Come. Come. Hear our song. Luring you with a sweet serenity that is slowly built up... a pathway / gateway to the stars... before crashing you into the rocks of utter desolate despair. A life terminated in an aural profusion of electronic nastiness. What at first appears as an act of minimal ambience grows in structure as it shape shifts in a multitude of directions before performing the coup de grace of feedback and electronic drenched cacophony.

A wholly intense and wondrous creation that has been forged by a highly creative hand. The effects are electrifying and quietly unsettling. In other words - shit hot. Or even... hot shit. Scatological references aside... you must investigate this release. It does not disappoint one iota. I‚m even willing to forgive his presence on MySpace.com if it gets his label and his music a higher profile which, on this example, I sincerely hope it does.


[Dead Sea Liner]

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