“never short on oxygen”,
“i washed the world out of my ripped jeans,”
“they’re studying our scents,”
“assembly of human effort,
machines are broken.”
Human Program isn’t human — at least, that’s what it’d like you to think. Outfitted with a steely exoskeleton of corroded snares and screeching synths, the Cincinnati-based coldwave apparatus recites its verses with the voice of an android and the heart of a romantic: it toes the line between detachment and visceral experience, leaving its audience to guess which spirit it really embodies. On the project’s latest effort, dreams of dyon opener “C-V” embraces the former, finding Human Program riding a rickety drum machine and the sort of emaciated bassline often deployed by Crispy Ambulance. Here, the Program dreams of data but wears its marrow on its sleeve. “What are the constants? / What are the variables?” it asks, before indulging its inner masochistic fantasies — “i wanna crawl inside / the boots of every french girl / and let myself be crushed”
Despite its synthesized composition, closer “Tram 83” is firmly entrenched in the flesh. HP waxes poetic about the freedom mass transit allows for — the rush of being a soft, fragile being inside a mass of metals.
dreams of dyon isn’t content to explore a specific relationship between man and machine. It touches on almost all of them: as symbiotes, as friends, as strangers, and as enemies.
More about: Human Program
