Title: The Wanting Seed
Keywords: experimental, Leiden
For the vague birds under us it’s always good to see and hear a new Chlorine album on Smikkelbaard. It has those oily pastel looks, not very touchable perhaps, yet it would definitely stain a pair of white pants. The main reason for this fine mess is the potent seedy sounds that shake and clutter the recordings like automatic rhythm doctors. Wobbling like a fanatic ritual as executed in a hot savanna environment that only gets hotter with the addition of sunny but poisonous ambient tones.
You just know that after being early fingered by tickling Fingers by Chlorine on a stringed instrument like a true trooper, this artist would cool you down like a cool refreshing snowball in your neck. It’s because this artist knows how to compensate sun fun with a gritty bald gridlock of a beat that sensitive dogs will not really approve off. Lucky you aren’t a dog, or are you? Humans are fine to bump heads and act like they dig it big time. What’s not to like, right?
A little bit more vague is the grilling cooking session of sounds in a pan, brewing some butter and old grandma’s clock playing a melody of Alzheimer’s in the back. The sound of nostalgia comes along with the smell of burned potatoes, but because this is a audio release only, Chlorine is so kind to leave the smells out of the free download. Luckily for us only the audio pleasures of grandma’s Puddle Dress are conserved and recorded for your pleasures.
Chlorine’s jealous levels are of a fine thin veil, not very hard or in your face, yet they are definitely there to pick up and pull in front of a bridesmaid’s face. The Smikkelbaard label is talking about this work as a romantic release, and it feels hard to say something else and undermine their statements. A veil for jealous bridesmaids and a fancy old dress might indeed bring romance to mind, yet if it’s the kind of romance that comes with the scenes of candlelight, poems and hand in hand lying in bed for a cuddle session is yet to be seen. The additional bit of feminism all the way at the end might just be enough material to start a conversation, ruining the wordless for-play. But who knows, maybe intellect is sexier than a dimly lid room and fluffy satin bed sheets, so who knows; there might still be a happy ending involving that wanted seed!