This kind of music is ravenous and if you look into its eyes it can turn you into a pillar of salt. One needs to go out armed and you better not run out of ammunition.
Paul Thomsen Kirk’s world may be wracked with paranoia, but even paranoiacs sometimes have real enemies. Though his brilliant previous album False Positives was already dark and dystopian, the urban environment he haunts as Akatombo has begun to haunt him on Sometime, Never. Survellience, privacy, personal integrity, social control are all relevant keywords here.
A Scotsman relocated to Hiroshima whose art he classifies as “mechanical grim,” Kirk has spent three years fighting his own, very real, very formidable physical enemy, given its own noir soundtrack on “Scans and Needles.” Where False Positives defied and eventually commanded the streets, the landscape of Sometime, Never is more insidious, more treacherous, because it is under someone else’s control. The creepy bass of the aptly named “Stasiland,” the chilly “Cold Call” that hints at the possible necessity of all this invasive espionage. This kind of music is ravenous and if you look into its eyes it can turn you into a pillar of salt. One needs to go out armed and you better not run out of ammunition.
Sometime, Never is a out via Hand-Held Recordings and available on Midheaven.
