DOODSHOOFD - POLITIESTAAT CDR 2011 self-released (ltd.23 copies)
Politiestaat is more of what I’ve come to expect from Doodshoofd – unchanging walls, large amounts of noise, and nuanced static abrasions. But the two stumbling blocks are the second and third tracks, which lessen the anger and aggression of the wall by dropping the right-side audio. Still, the other hour of this disc is definitely hypnotizing.
Politiestaat erupts with seven slightly shorter works and a shade more “variety” in the way it executes its brutalising slabs of painful, hot scalding acid and chainsaw attacks, but still ends up delivering the necessary punch to leave most listeners in a swoon for eight days. Doodshoofd, whose name translates as Death’s Head, comes from Almelo, celebrates the power of anger and despair, and doesn’t stint when it comes to spreading these destructive emotions thickly all over his power-noise work, of which these two examples are packed in scuzzy grey xeroxes of a sort which I’d thought we’d lost in the 1980s
In a sense Harsh Noise Wall lacks ambiguity and so the role of the critique might be to provide it. A sample from any of theses seven tracks could be regarded as simple in that its not music but a field recording of some cosmic, meta cosmic micro cosmic event, a seismic trace of raw data from the LHC. Its reasonableness then is what obfuscates it, and yet recent history shows both the dangers of the poetic, and philosophy as poetry, and its consequences in a even newer and more naive scientism. Ecological, cosmological, facts. what is needed is something non wikiable and yet not some Yiddish momma talk. Its as if art has lost its subject, as if Bloom orbits Dublin in a circle, that history is the history of events. Doodshoofd maintains that sounds speak for themselves, yet sounds are silent, having neither ears nor mouths. what is it outside the event. What is the event at heart it's the thought that you are unconscious on an operating table about to soon awake. That everything meaningful is your imagination and only the obscure and confused is the real. Here I send you on a fools errand to listen to this noise and see if you can hear faintly the surgeons conversations. And then how ridiculous this would be.(jliat)