Vibrant acid tracks knead muscular electronic dance structures on Gerald Brunson’s debut EP. A member of the Model 500 extended family and running Dance Sacred Records, Brunson presents a restless world that beckons forth from the underground of the Midwest, full of bouncing flair and techno passion.
Hoffman's S.O.S. (Scully, Owsley, Sand) is more than a mere head nod to the alchemists participating in the League for Spiritual Discovery and The Brotherhood of Eternal Love. It induces a pristine acid trip that twists neurons about agitated filtered effects and effective rhythmic structures. Finally, it emerges into wondrous vistas of ever-expanding horizons. Blue Striped Felix worms deep into the groove with the same brawn, its components lean and unceasing.
Over on the flip side, 2way struts a mean dance, stripping out the previous track’s acid melodies into something far more focused on repetition with an electro influence shining through. This electro sound beams forward even more into a mutant funk on Morf. The synths move squeakily as if the machine got jammed into enlightenment. Unexpected beat changes flick over to a four to the floor briefly, before out of nowhere chords invite the closing moments in with an eventual melodic response to the dancing synths.
Brunson's tracks represent a unique sound. Techno is as real as the person who experiences it, and these tracks come from an enigmatic messenger who is firmly out on a limb.
Hoffman's S.O.S. (Scully, Owsley, Sand) is more than a mere head nod to the alchemists participating in the League for Spiritual Discovery and The Brotherhood of Eternal Love. It induces a pristine acid trip that twists neurons about agitated filtered effects and effective rhythmic structures. Finally, it emerges into wondrous vistas of ever-expanding horizons. Blue Striped Felix worms deep into the groove with the same brawn, its components lean and unceasing.
Over on the flip side, 2way struts a mean dance, stripping out the previous track’s acid melodies into something far more focused on repetition with an electro influence shining through. This electro sound beams forward even more into a mutant funk on Morf. The synths move squeakily as if the machine got jammed into enlightenment. Unexpected beat changes flick over to a four to the floor briefly, before out of nowhere chords invite the closing moments in with an eventual melodic response to the dancing synths.
Brunson's tracks represent a unique sound. Techno is as real as the person who experiences it, and these tracks come from an enigmatic messenger who is firmly out on a limb.