Delineate. Defrag. Deconstruct. Decompose. True to its name, this outlandish Unmediated Productions offering of digital nihilism spoon-fed by project master Bret Truchan comes across sounding like a Skinny Puppy inspired fuzz bucket of dreck upon first listen, but therein lies the mistake. It takes not one listen, but two to realize that what Truchan has given us is a next-Gen Clockwork Orange for the bored and frustrated. A schizophrenic and claustrophobic opus of disturbing audio grind that is surreal and cacophonous, like a Marcel Duchamp piece set to music. What Truchan is attempting with Seed is to disassemble his art, bit by digital bit, and perhaps our ears may bleed the first time around, but on the second go, there appears something more concrete amidst the manic expressionism: oxymoron it may be, this is a progressive dissemination towards tangibility.
The opening number, Insecti, screeches through a trippy crankcase of sonic anguish, delving into an out-of-nowhere cyber-tribal groove to stabilize the aural onslaught, before immediately disappearing into paranoid silence as prelude to the ensuing butchery of Substring, an ear-splitting mess of distortion that is thankfully countered by subtle synths to calm the savage beast that has undoubtedly searched for the nearest straight razor at this point. Crisis features a Trent Reznor sensibility (if that in itself is considered sensible), the first friendly moment of the disc that pussyfoots along with playful tones and yet there exists the hint of something dreadful looming on the horizon, hence the paradigm for the title; Crisis.
Disassembled is a remix of the work of Unmediated hostess, Unwoman, and the song is exactly what is implied; a chemical dissolving of her music, an abstract disintegration that should call to mind Salvador Dali's Disintegration of the Persistence of Time. That is to say, it pays homage to the senior work through analytical de-emphasis. The nerve-blitzing sn100132-45 follows, teasing and jerking the listener with tempered beats that refuse conventionality. Those who remember the not-so-glorious days of UHF will likely experience an unnerving relapse with the familiar snowy sounds as reinterpreted through the computer. As with this track, Mantis mocks the listener with a subversive desire to attract with a solid groove, then dissipates once again into its bitter complexities shared on 84K8 and Re Grinder.
The two most noteworthy songs are EHC-ILC, which is like Front Line Assembly at its best. A perfectly agreeable construct of beat gluing it together, far more ambient in its comfortable electronica than its angst-laden predecessors, while Pause surprisingly slips into a steady, cosmic enjoinder just when one thinks this track has been lost within its painful digital fugue. The song which should anthemize D.compose is the highly creative SPO256, which boasts a hardcore tearing and ripping implication that rudely accents a mind-scrubbing pulse, creating a sense of ambiguous punishment, relenting only when it sees fit to.
Seed is by no means everybody's cup of jove. In fact, the experience is comparable to a decaf habitué waking up with a strong blend of Kona, unprepared for the highly caffeinated jolt to the senses. Bret Truchan is self-indulgent in his craft, but he is true and sincere to it, like it or not.
Post: Unmediated Productions, 3161 Lucas Dr., Lafayette, CA 94549-5544, USA