9/27/2023 0 Comments Ink ecto body![]() No trace of the loathing that once echoed in it. No trace of the suspicion that had once haunted that voice. Although he called out for Error, there was no fear. Where there was once disgust, there was now lust and love.Īnd now, back to the present day, the great artist was entangled in Error’s blue strings, his own scarf wrapped around his skull to blind him. Where once lurked hatred, there was gentle curiosity… Where there was once anger or frustration, there was acceptance. Sometime within the year the energy that had sparked between them had changed. ![]() Even their bones were white and black, complete with little streaks of colours blossoming through their bodies. Ying and Yang, the complete balance in the Doodlesphere. As different as the two skeletons were, they were equals. The two skeletons had clashed, time after time, neither gaining the upper hand on the other. They drew upon the use of resources and the limited memory that they had been provided by the Creator. ![]() Ink had wanted to thoroughly explore and experience those unique ideas, to let them thrive and live… but Error had seen these creations as parasites. Ink wanted creativity to blossom, to see the new AUs be created and spread across the once blank Doodlesphere. They were both so different from one another. Then again, if anyone had told him a year before that Ink, the protector of the Doodlesphere, his supreme rival, would be his soulmate, he would have laughed at them. He almost didn’t believe his ear slits when Ink, earlier that day, had suggested using the strings that Error naturally produced to “play”. “Error…” Ink whispered to his lover, skull craning everywhere that it was allowed, listening and concentrating for the smallest of sounds, seeking the smallest of touches.Įrror softly chuckled as he looked at the colourful skeleton that was tied up, naked, in his netting, much like a fly stuck in the spider’s web. He's created the most evocative sound world that the genre has seen this year, and the peak-time dancefloor's loss is our gain.Error and Ink decide that it’s time to spice up their loving with a little help from Error’s natural gift. It's almost incongruous, this Fourth World outburst nestled among the metal shards, except that it's not, and that, in turn, is a testament to the breadth of Seaton's vision for techno. In "Okko Ink", a snippet of saxophone seems to have been rolled out on waterlogged tape and tacked up in the background, and in "Sulu Sekou", there's a melancholic clarinet melody that faintly recalls Djivan Gasparyan's "I Will Not Be Sad in This World". It's a wonderfully penumbral set, sumptuously grayscale in a way that gives its rare bursts of color all the more impact. Gloomy, abstracted electronic music rarely sounds so insanely detailed for all its haphazard qualities, everything feels carefully, even obsessively, crafted. There are tiny chirping noises everywhere, like a forest full of birds and crickets, all made out of metal. stable of basement-rave noiseniks, what distinguishes Suzi Ecto is its sparkling clarity. Indeed, while his gunked-up machine aesthetics relate to contemporaries like Actress, Lukid, and the L.I.E.S. Not all hums are created equal, however, and it's a sign of Seaton's careful approach to sound design that his buzz sings in a way that's very different from, say, the flat, affectless hiss of Actress. It's part alchemical reaction, part Rube Goldberg contraption, and one side effect of his method is the omnipresent crackle and hiss. In "Fold Again at Last", an unsteady rhythm of glassy, conga-like tones is all but drowned out by metallic locust buzz.Īh yes, that buzz: the whole album is alive with it. Seaton has talked about the way his creative process puts the signal chain front and center-that is, his compositional style is less a matter of putting beats and notes in neat rows than generating electronic sounds and sending them careening through a series of effects. Many of the drum sounds, like the dry, boxy toms of "Okko Ink", sound like they come from a Wurlitzer on the fritz, and even the most regular beats come across like metronomes buried deep in a pile of leaves. They're softened up and sanded down there are few grooves here, just bursts. Seaton's obvious affinity for classic electro is a factor, but these aren't the textbook whipcrack rhythms of Kraftwerk and Drexciya. The first thing you may notice is the relative scarcity of four-to-the-floor kicks there's plenty of pulse running through Suzi Ecto, but it moves in fits and starts. But it's not so much party music, necessarily. It's still body music, particularly if you turn it up loud enough that it gets ahold of your ribcage.
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