Implosive, Explosive, or Overdose-ive?
One thing is for certain. The names of the songs on Cavern of Anti-Matter’s debut disc void beats / invocation trex are some of the best and trippiest I’ve ever heard. Some of these titles include “blowing my nose under close observation,” “pantechnicon,” and “echolalia.” The rest is uncertain, including the overall take from this album. Is it alien-esque noise music? Is it implosive, explosive, or overdose-ive? Is it good?
The opening 13-minute track, dubbed “tardis cymbals,” is mellow but rich and warm as it opens. You see a flower bud slowly opening in 1,000 micro-speed picture frames. Something darker hits about a minute in, which takes you into another realm, dodging asteroids in a corner of the Milky Way perhaps. There is an epic journey occurring regardless, but the climax and resolution are non-existent. There is merely a constant energetic flow.
“blowing my nose under close observation” is like an electronic zip gesundheit, with staccato snot being spurted in synth blips throughout eternity. “insect fear” uses an organ as its instrument of choice instead of the buzzing synth sounds that are expected. The end most sounds like an insect attack with the appearance of video game chase music. I’d imagine something like Pac-Man but with giant mosquitoes trying to suck out your blood.
“hi-hats bring the hiss” is deep and unstable from the start. The antiparticles are conjoining in a brutal takeover. Speedy beats denote tiny particles colliding and collapsing before spreading into a massive unsteady static blob. The ending blasts radar tones like a warning.
Lyrics finally enter with “liquid gate.” “In the winter, snow frame. There’s only ice in the middle of my brain.” Later, “black glass actions” arrives pleasantly like a constant stream of consciousness but in a controlled setting. There is sonic command and a steady, unaltered beat serving as the undercurrent to layers of rising sounds.
“planetary folklore” breaks through as expected – in a weird, cosmic blaze of eccentricity. The epic opening is spoken in a godlike voice that speaks over cavern-esque water droplets: “From now on the secret language of cerebral art can no longer have currency. Pure plasticity will disencumber itself from the sediments of past culture and become a vitamin for our senses and our spirits.” More poetic words and revolutionary sentiments arrive in a powerful robotic-layered voice before moving into entirely mechanical sound still reading the political speech. There is an uneasy overtaking of the organic with the synthetic until an area of sonic nirvana is breached.
“zone null” ends the disc with a music box beat overlaid with symphonic organ blasts. An unyielding lightness is being merged incessantly with a subtle darkness in a natural and intoxicating impact. Violins enter sweetly, bringing the convergence into an entirely blissful state. Something is exceeding nothing, or nothing is exceeding something. Regardless, the result is catastrophically magical.