Suicide co-founder Martin Rev's ninth solo album is a bewildering scrapbook containing 34 short pieces that erratically switch genres and moods with absolutely no warning. Harsh, percussive noise blasts reminiscent of John Wiese or Daniel Menche sit uncomfortably beside curious quasi-classical miniatures that sound like interstitial scenes from some sort of bizarre sci-fi opera. Then there are moments like "My Street," which clashes a '50s malt shop rock & roll melody with timpani and a sheet of harsh industrial noise guitar, and the drunken sax blunder of "Blayboy." Gentle choral vocals grace "Requiem," and "Venitas" is closer to Gregorian chanting. Rev's own voice surfaces during the stark rumination "In Our Name," uttering a few staccato phrases before sharply ending with the phrase "and now you're gone," and does something similar over the hissy thrashing of "Creation." Moments like "Stretch" and "Back to Philly" have sporadic, stumbling rhythms and blown-out drums, and tracks like "Inside Out" have more of a sleazy avant-funk bent. The album's title could be taken to mean that these pieces are intended to be deconstructions of various compositional methods, or perhaps it's just a clearing-house of undeveloped demos. Rev seems to be purposely throwing off listeners' expectations throughout the album, and it's impossible to tell if there's any deliberation to the track sequencing or not. There are some fascinating ideas here, but it takes a strong will in order to listen to and process the whole thing.
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