See bottom of this post for digest commentary.The Rita / Treriksröset – The Rita / TreriksrösetIt's all about the Trerik. Well, that's the project that does time on both sides, one live (as Rita complemented by Trerik & ZK) and one in the studio (as Trerik). One may reach all kinds of conclusions just perusing the liner notes, manifesto-ish statements of malcontent notwithstanding.
Drop the needle though and Rita is Rita, definite article notwithstanding. The flattest lines as brutally uncompromising as to be desired. Whether that is a thing to be desired is another question entirely. (The answer, for what it's worth, would be not yes but HELL YES.) Trerik Trerik Trerik...I'd reckon, a presence more often felt than heard. I might suggest the same of ZK, the not-insignificant third component of this 3-way live collabo, but only because her contribution vis Rita would be a bit harder to parse. Fortunately, the good people who presented the event have put a brief snippet
online and helpfully indicated where the Trerik portion ends and the ZK begins. What emerges is live collabo that is at times possibly solo Rita and at others alternating 2-ways with Trerik or ZK, with perhaps a bit of all three rounding out close. Best not to speculate.
Now, I wanted to say this were REAL FUGGERIN HARSH, but truth be told the first proper auditioning of Rita's A-side came off the back of extended sessions with Treriksröset's recent s/t – TOTAL EAR RAPE of which left me unable to hear properly for longer than than is entirely without perturbment. Frankly, Rita here waxes rather soothing on the ear, harsh flatlines calmly drilling through the ozone, massaging the poor abused inner canals with purely textured shshshiiiiizzzle. That's the earholes. The severely overtaxed speakers, on the other hand, spent the duration protesting this gross exploitation of their normally munificent disposition, threatening to rip clean out of their cones at the apparently over-generous application of volume knob. All I have to say is, speakers, if you're reading this: THANK YOU.
The opening flatlines are not lines but the ripped and lickity-spittling sounds of dry shred, broken up with irregular silence. Possibly, if the aforementioned online snippet is anything to go by, ZK gets in on this. Possibly. A few minutes in and the sound palate expands to admit a broader range of hack fizzle 'n snort before a feedback spike and accompanying note of audience appreciation suggests the possibility of Trerik getting more involved in proceedings. The harsh exudes a whitened polish, the feedback biting and stuttering in needle-shriek bleed-through. The crowd, or at least one fucker spasticating near the mic, clearly approves. This whole section here is innerestin', never really settling into one groove or another, but allowing the play of harshvoices to splay and converge.
And then- what the fuck? Piano? Slightly distorted, but really. What the fuck do they think this is, industrial music? Jeez. Presumably this is the moment where Mr Carlson is to be seen executing a picture perfect pirouette, prancing about the stage whilst Rita stuffs a ballet slipper up the shnozz. This goes on longer than is entirely necessary, but of course when the flatlines drop back into the mix the moment is perfect. At which point I would surmise we are getting the full brunt of the ZK: broken down, fragmented, finely chiseled drilling straight into granite walls, fidelity burnt raw, charred, seemingly struggling to cut through an increasingly oppressive silence. Tension so sharp you can cut your tendons on it. If I didn't know better I might be tempted to flop out a descriptor like "academic". But no, I know, that would be wrong. And then- sudden-like rapid ascension, legitimately harsh ripping blasts erupting to the singularity, done.
If Rita offers the earholes respite from the punishments so dearly deserved, they will get no such sympathies from Treriksröset. The project has been getting increasingly HARSH and NASTY of late, both the recent
s/t aka
MR SM and
Kristen Musik delivering some of the most brutal EAR RAPE to be feared- and yes, say it, to be loved. And here, now, as the first strains of straight-through-the-holes burning severity rage on through, it is clear that in t-minus twenty-two minutes my ears are utterly flocked. Blame Mikawa 'n pal. With the possible exception of
Paraponera Attack from
Ostracized Enigmatic Conqueror, Incaps have simply not been delivering the harsh purity that so defined the harsh of yore. Someone's gotta fucking do it. Enter Treriksröset.
Treriksröset sounds very live-through-the-amps on this one. Amps bleeding and convulsing amid ruptured feedback-laden screech and seethe, room acoustics soundly hemming in the punishments, centering attentions on the essential damages being wrought. After an initial attack to lay the somewhat jittery foundations, a move toward near spastic flirtation, and what sounds like open-aired metal-junk slam-barrage hammering on into the fray.
Much unlike the s/t, there's relatively little deviation from the core, little interest in micromanaging movement from one divergence to the next. Rather a steady development, getting thicker, richer, heavier- if never particularly harsher as, well, I'm not sure that's physically possible. Classic development, then- pretermitted ballet slipper to the shnozz notwithstanding. So it rolls: slow-build to almighty roaring intensity, ill-forgiving gaze reflecting back in grim and equal measure, triumphant ascent to glaring glimmering peak of puritannical conviction, outward bleats and wheedles gradually succumbing to the cause. It's easy to get snookered into cranking the volume just that iota more, warm distortion walls seemingly swallowing up the more piercing incursions. But there- principally at the edges, but so very much present, the marginally disguised dental scree burns, red hot and scorching straight through the fucking skull. A few straight out blasts for good measure just to ensure that the damage is permanent.
With acknowledgements to Rita and the concomitant gentrification of form, the last year and change truly has been all about the Trerik, the unvarnished Ear Rape, and the merciless shitting into 'hole- all subjective re-presentation of the word "harsh" notwithstanding.
Digest spewKEEP INDUSTRIAL OUT OF HARSH NOISE. (And no, in case you were wondering, techno is not sound art.)
