Static noise is interwoven through clicks’n cuts, manipulated guitars, tribal tentacles, crumbling techno, post-industrial washes and an extreme focus on the obscure craft of darkened tonal activity.
Minimalism floating amidst industrial wastelands, broken (African) beats stutter across the landscape. A thin sheet of dust falls upon analog machinery that struggles to find itself in a low-pressure glass dome. Time shifts from left to right and all that is left is a whisper nestled between strands of bass and chaos. These are just a few immediate thoughts that turn into vivid soundscapes while listening to Lyr‘s self-titled album.
Static noise is interwoven through clicks’n cuts, manipulated guitars, tribal tentacles, crumbling techno, post-industrial washes and an extreme focus on the obscure craft of darkened tonal activity. Not easily categorized, Lyr is an assemblage of these various sub-genres—snipping the finest particles from each to paint a new canvass that can only be identified via astute listening and an ear for left-field data deconstruction. If the Lyra constellation ever required a soundtrack to disseminate its abstract transmissions, this album would be the one.
Lyr is available on From A Tree. [Buy at iTunes or Amazon]
