Finally we get a Nostilevo release folded into the delicate belly of Cerberus, Men Of Bissau serving as the perfect entrypoint for the imprint’s unique black-on-gray-on-black aesthetic. Club Baraka deals in the best brand of drone, the variety that provokes the mind and somehow dazzles the ear despite what could be construed as fairly traditional ideas. Side A, comprised of “P.M.,” lays flat organ textures over harsh squealing then pulls the rug out, pairing coastguard Doppler blips with radio static, followed by super-slight synth gurgles. Lost at sea in the rain, the ear can do little but drift. “Club Baraka” is almost cruel as it slaps your face and throws you down the stairs without a word. CLUNK-dunk-dunk-dunk BANGSMASHHHHHHHH!>!!>!? Before you know what bull gored you, a feeble alien signal pleads for your attention as what sounds like a sampled xylophone tolls for unknown souls. Evil stuttering cricket chirps and a growling, unidentified source of bass join the fray and bring it all home. By the time the timpanis come in you’re already aware of your impending death, and you don’t care. Fucking righteous, man.
[Visit full site to view media]Club Baraka by Men of Bissau