ReR Megacorp / UK / 2010
“a heroic protest against the audio hygiene of digital studios - a rowdy celebration of live musical upheaval and filth.” — The Wire
“Lotsa space and a highly skilled use of dynamics, the trio never making use of the more predictable 'wall of sound'.” — Clouds and Clocks
“An enjoyable subtle psychedelic trip, while eighteen minutes long, it is over just when you are beginning to enjoy the ride.” — KFJC
RéR must have felt this was pretty special to justify the extravagant packaging - their first vinyl in ages, and what vinyl! (It's white). The pleasingly intricate sleeve has flamboyant photos of nuclei colliding inside a heavy ion collider, and fortunately the music is not upstaged one bit by the boffin porn. Recorded live in California 1999-2002 in front of an occasionally vocal audience, the whole project is a heroic protest against the audio hygiene of digital studios - a rowdy celebration of live musical upheaval and filth.
The opening track, occupying the whole of side A, drops the listener right into the magma. The trio seem to be disemboweling some interplanetary rock number, as Cutler chews on his electrified drum kit and Dimuzio gobbles everything in to his real-time audio processor. Frith picks out a violin dance with an East European tinge, then switches to guitar and bright, FX-reversed chords. He could almost be jamming on "Here Comes The Sun", till the dark storms of noise roll back across the stage.
Beth Custer joins in briefly on clarinet, on side B: it's a quaintly lyrical moment, sucked before long into Dimuzio's tornado. Frith cranks up and rides the storm with authoritative outbursts. Later, as Cutler hurls his gongs down a lift shaft, Frith seems to be humming an unlikely ancient melody in unison with an acoustic guitar. There's plenty of character and purpose across these four tracks - for all the murk and racket, this is improvising that always feels like it's headed somewhere. —Clive Bell
/The Wire