Rave Review: KAVARI - PLAGUE MUSIC
Gremlins huddle over a cracked wishing well, but what emerges is not a wish. What rises instead has a PULSE. Fractured cries from a mutant realm, atomic presence, confused but human. It breathes and shudders, expanding and collapsing like an imploding mushroom cloud crossing a nightmare. Dubstep-composed nuclear blasts, restrained and pressurized, pressing to the surface. After the mutation, nothing but a vengeful heaving force survives.
Out of the digital haze comes a generative crackle, D‘n’B sounding like a dustbin ratle. Around the corner, behind a door left ajar. Something is brought to life. Engineered with IRON VEINS, built to circulate through a steel-piped brutalist landscape. Wind tearing through the environment leaves almost no life in its wake, but some persists anyway. The mutant persists, driving onward and inward, reinforced by the external pressures, not eliminated by them.
At its core lies a foul beast—not found by reflection, only sensed. Barely audible, it exhales charcoal-hot breath, aluminum-laced hiss spreading across the SERPENT CHAMBER. The low end coils and whispers: follow the vibration. Sub-bass drags the listener across industrial waste, circling a hidden center buried deep in the mix. Air collapses inward and empties out.
Memory flickers — a crow, a glitch — then a world with no nourishment. Meals made of shrapnel. Only a SYTHE for those seeking sleep. It cuts cleanly through any promise of rest, rhythm used as a tool. The result is coughing discomfort: peeled lungs, sickness, decay. No release. No resolution. Endurance music for a world preparing its own wake.
A pulse. A vibration. A hiss. The world being rebuilt through bass and distortion. PLAGUE MUSIC.
(The Lunatic is an Austin, Texas–based raver spreading the good word through his reviews and blog—and by selling the weirdest fucking electronic vinyl around.)
