I have a huge stack of tapes and a HARROWING TOWER OF VINYL DELIGHTS to review that, many of which, come far before Gonzo’s Samboia Kanguick as far as timeliness is concerned. But I’ve got to admit it: Discrepant is my baby. The label has me hooked and it would be sad if each new arrival didn’t bring me so much unrequited joy. This Gonzo joint is no different. It seems to be a group of samples looped backward, a la Pullhair Rubeye, then glazed over with icy fuzz. Much different from the other sample-reliant entries in Gonzo’s oeuvre, yet easily coexistent with previous releases because, at (just the right) times, he pulls back the veil and lets much-appreciated light into the smoke-filled room he’s inhabiting. And when, about a quarter through Side A, a warble-y, broken-merry-go-round of a snippet invites you in, finally, to the clutches of this absolute beast, if you don’t descend you’re a goddamned FOOL. There’s no right way to catalog Gonzo’s music in the first place, so adding Samboia Kanguick is insult to injury where genre classification is concerned, so I’ll just leave that aspect of yr typical review alone. It doesn’t matter anyway, as this guy is so ahead of the game they’ll be naming genres after him someday. Babe, Terror had a few early songs that explored similar terrain, albeit with no vocal samples, and I’ve heard a few experimental world releases that, at best, skim the surface of the cellar Gonzo dwells in, but there ain’t nothin’ like the real thing, baby. There are sections of this sprawling collection that seem almost too large, too supple, too perfect. And who knew ‘Zo would whip out a quick Mudboy/M. Geddes impersonation or two on the synths (unless that’s more sampling in disguise)? That’s probably the biggest disconnect between Samboia Kanguick and Gonzo-proper: He he’s moving beyond cutting/pasting and delving into deep layering that evokes a spiritual feeling if you listen with the right kind of ears. Drop the hand drums and pan flute and jump into this frothy brew of coalescing tones, so unpredictable you could have a stroke yet so mellow-gold you’ll want to roll it up and light it up and… well you get it. And there you have it: Another collection of audio fragments you’d be foolish to miss, yet so, so, SO, SO many of you WILL it’s embarrassing. Samboia Kanguick demands respect no matter how regional/overcrowded/art-damaged the experimental nonscene is getting, and I pity those who skip it because they don’t want to pay the UK’s (admittedly) highway robbery-style shipping price hikes. Also, check Experimedia, they usually get Discrepant stuff (damn J. Bible owes me a steak-n-shake) in an almost suspiciously timely fashion. Time to go Gonzo, people.
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