In some observatory, lost to moss and pre-Cambrian biological nightmares works International Debris. They’re busy capturing and collaging the pioneering stimuli of this bubbling world, codifying the burgeoning organic into a synthetic testament. Like with all good (and interesting) science, there’s gaps to these collages, perforations of beat indented with mystery à la proto-Gaia. Even anchored in the purely earthy, International’s voyeuristic microscope is so holistic and what few glimpses of it we get in the form of techy blips are still subdued. The image is eternal, timeless, yet still growing.
Science is speculation, verdancy without a care and above all, rich. Holosphere above all hits the latter as its own non-Euclidean fantasy. Evolution stirred by the primal, bubbling ecobeat to the charm of higher, more aloof ears.
Holosphere is now available through New Motion, in the whereabouts of here.
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