Macho Blush doesn’t permit us to climb the paralyzed stairs; they are frozen in a frame that occasionally jumps and skips to black, sometimes replaced with microscopic solar fossils and follicles captured by shaky zooms. We must speculate, with dread, what lies at the top of the stairs. While we wonder, Macho Blush offer solutions to furnishing the foyer. Video images, serving as altars, substitute end tables. They lie on top of the paralyzed stairs, interjecting with offerings of vague connections: the middle-finger salute, two angles on a dozen roses, a profile with a calm blue buzzing backdrop, and a fuzzy, mystery image that appears to be a radioactive, oversized bar of gold in a mine car (or a candle).
The editing pace fits the tempo of the tune. Drum sticks dipped in tar and maple syrup tromp on a cymbal and a tom. A mutated voice educates us on the “Slow War Fast War,” backed with further voice clusters, manipulations, and mutations fit for the spiritual realm. The clutter of melody and feedback is the intruder. It takes advantage of the listeners, who are entranced by the repetition of lyrics and images and unwound by the low BPM muscle relaxants and sludge drum patterns, by snowballing in the mix, causing tension events and strain.
• Macho Blush: http://machoblush.tumblr.com
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