Karma Sutures

Karma Sutures
Ancient Teutonic drone-rockers take on Jersey art-hoppers

by Don Allred
October 5th, 2004 4:50 PM Issue 40

Faust vs. Dalek
Derbe Respecte, Alder
Staubgold

Not so long ago, a young Jersey trio of prodigious mad hiphopologists, Dalek,
undertook a European tour. How they suffered! Until rescued by an old German
kombo of legendary mad progologists, Faust. Transcription of (ob)session
follows:
Facedown bass-clown chews through plaster cast appeal and last appeals.
Artillery fire falls like fossils, into single phylum. Spinal columns of beats
stack, driven home, bent high; remixing bricks, carpets, and windows. In some
crumbling rumble's scratch, soundbeast crawls on. Barrel tongues roll years.

Inventory takes itself, junkyard ripples like hide riding a horsefly:
Groovation gathers. A thin blue flame suspends, not unlike the aural aura of organist
Larry Young, but he died long ago. Miles and Jimi never played together, but
he played with them both. It is also not unlike the gas-jet flame Miles's
autobio claimed to be his earliest memory, seen across a field of whitest stove
top. Atmosphere waits out the needle of such a tiny thrill. But its point has
been made. And if the listener's ear-hole cherry should regrow itself, sealing
feeling? Well. CDs last a while. This one will be waiting.

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