Making noise that’s truly colorful is harder to do, and even harder to do well. A synesthetic dimension that’s evoked by both relevant visual aesthetics and the psychedelic intricacies of the music itself, color is even more subjective and slippery than most other ways we might assess the essence of a work. Looking to recent examples, rainbows can blossom from the right combination of gear (e.g., the fecund modular contraptions of White Widow or Total Sweetheart), an abundance of visceral emotion (Spate’s Dogmono), or decadent textural feasts (Kakerlak’s Obdormition). Vivid cover art doesn’t hurt, either (see Form Hunter’s Overripe). At the intersection of all these potential sources of sonic vibrance stands Spore Spawn’s new CD Okoranaideto, a saturated chunk of phantasmagoric intensity that marks a new peak for the Niigata project. “Ahaha” sounds all too familiar at first, resembling countless tiresome sets I’ve seen that consist of a droning ambient undercurrent punctuated by episodic blasts, but it soon reveals itself to be an engaging and progressive crescendo. Spawn doesn’t use traditional loops, and yet he does structure these tracks around repeating motifs that always promise (and deliver) a satisfying resolution. Cyclical contortions in “Ichiichi” conjure a kind of meta-rhythm, to the point where one can almost predict the shape and trajectory of the next writhing manifold before it even occurs. None of the three peter out or end with a whimper; anticipation levels remain high through the final seconds, which are perfectly punctuated with one or more last-ditch spasms.
Noise Not Music 