Jilk :: Tetsou II (Bricolage)

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Mature art in this instance has done its job beautifully, reaching beyond words to linger subtly, resonating deeply, and leaving lasting traces of memory and feeling. Every note, texture, and quiet detail becomes an intimate conversation, quietly settling in the heart and mind, lingering with subtle, honest resonance.

Jilk releases on Glaswegian power-wave label Bricolage, in what the artist themselves describes as an alternatively imagined soundtrack to Tetsuo II: Body Hammer, in a work titled the same. Scatter breaks and braindance tek-step riddims appear on opener “VHS Wears Thin.” Angular rhythmic punctuations propel us into the array from the get-go. The cutting and pasting time signatures lambast the listener in a delicious frisson, blending tender melodic gestures with beatific assault.

On “Flesh-Tech,” blooms of organic piano delicately appease the tonal aspects as discordant fibres weave across the senses in both forward and reversing motion. Concentric circles of slowing sounds allow the duality of calm and discomfort to set up home in one’s experiential field, as expectations build and subside with delightfully parallel reasoning. Mad skills on display. “Minoris Hands” beatlessly yields to calmer waters, where clear concentric ripples arise and evaporate in rings of gentle persuasion. The sensitivity of the creator themselves is heart-on-sleeve on display. Honest and authentic, with strings and pads to die for. Exquisite music for serious consideration. “Half Human” takes tek-beats in stuttering assimilation beneath the rudiments of Satrèseque piano lilts. Jilk’s experience and extensive back catalog communicate an artist entrenched in musicality and modernity by equal measure.

“Half Tank” goes full orchestral to illustrate that point and open-heartedly offers a humble expression of creative sophistication in complex simplicity. “Kana and the Pocket Operator” traces the foundational impulse of the set, creating a soundtrack to an echo of youthful experience through an adult’s view of the creative arts. Retrospective futurism blooms digitally and organically, worldly and fecund. “Minori is Alive at the End” embodies this set. Jump straight to it, and you’ll find every limited attempt here to describe music between two people, you and I, using words—arguably one of the least musical tools, though not entirely. “End of Tape” closes with shards of tape hiss and herstory, coalescing into anime-toned memories, both sincere and shared. I’m so glad I got to write this review. I shared in the emotional tangentiality of nostalgia, letting impressions surface freely. My heart space is left open, tender and alive.

Mature art in this instance has done its job beautifully, reaching beyond words to linger subtly, resonating deeply, and leaving lasting traces of memory and feeling. Every note, texture, and quiet detail becomes an intimate conversation, quietly settling in the heart and mind, lingering with subtle, honest resonance.


Tetsuo II is both an alternative soundtrack to the 1992 surreal, cyberpunk, fever-dream film Tetsuo II: Body Hammer and an ode to my experience of watching it much too young.” ~Jon Worsley

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