the sunday experience, December 2014

'This I'm not too ashamed to admit has been causing no amount of hysteria and hijinks since being discovered sitting up on our welcome mat begging like an impish and excitable puppy wanting to play mischief. Debut full length from Aeolipile whose limited seven inch release from early summer you may well remember (and dare I say hope you purchased) knocked us bandy and flying into next week serving up some of the most wilfully obtuse, angular and frenzied ear happenings we'd had the pleasure of hearing that season. 'mapping the diaphragms of drowning cats' is the first of a brace of quality skewed ear gear heading out of the foolproof projects sound house right now this babe coming piped in molten hot free jazz squeals the likes of which that should have the heads of Ayler purists at best case scenario popping at worst positively melting. Erratic, demented and above all furiously caustic, Aeophile do things under the flag of jazz that might lead some to suspect just might be illegal or at least frowned upon. Squirrelling ad hoc time signatures – what am I saying time signatures this is pure spontaneous combustibility which in recent memory the last time we heard anything veering anyway near its sound space was perhaps that recent can can heads outing or further back still inside ov a butchers shop. And don't get me talking angular the pitching here is so irregular and obtuse that you might need a protractor to gage its acuteness. As to the sounds, a positive anarchic disfigurement of the melodic form, skedaddled and frenzied, there's an abruptness rather more an urgency as they try insidiously to superglue the disparate forces of James Chances and the Contortions and Henry Cow with opening cut 'apportioning God's piece on the pissed' being particularly singled out and sure to give your sound system a heady workout not least because it sounds like Tubby Hayes on bad acid. Somewhere else lurking the noise niking no wave seizure of 'the old which pocket shuffle' and the frankly odd and worryingly fried 'ondol' which marks its spot in out hairing even the mighty Apatt at their most impish. Best of the set though in terms of head trepanning you into next year is the frankly barking and fearfully head melting. Proceed of course at pace but with due care. Available as a limited to just 75 physical CD or else download.'