Andrew Liles & Miraculous Monsters

The Miraculous Mechanical Monster.

Dirty slab of green vinyl obscenity from Andrew Liles popped through the door yesterday. Unsettlingly thick-cocked LP sleeve in lurid black n green with equally unsettling rattling audio inside... at times, this reminded me of some of the tracks on NWW's Automating Vol 2 compilation (and, by association Brainticket) with huge chunks of the Cold side of the classic Thunder Perfect Mind and other bits vaguely reminiscent of 10-20, itself half-recalling Automating Vol 2...

Circles within circles...

Not to say this isn't an unique piece of work; it's oddments and stabs are all of it's own... listenable but untenable... not something you'd want to listen to with your Gran... or with anyone, come to think of it. Which kind of adds to the seediness of the whole affair. It's music as shame, music as onanism, as solitary defilement...

Still, I'd love to be in the diskotek where the DJ plays this little fellah out to the woozy masses...

Huge bits of this sound like a sex robot falling downstairs. This seems to be entirely intentional and is to be applauded. Some of it is quite beautiful. Some of nit even sounds a little like Philip Glass's soundtrack to Koyaanisquatsi but the beauty occurs in dry humps and clusters, often savaged by the crackle of drums or the slide of robotic scales.

Some of it is disgusting, creepy, sad, horrific... there's enough fucks and cocks to spoil a Sunday Roast, to soil a Christmas party... as a glimpse into a future world of over-cyber-sexed teen Supermarket managers, their fingers glistening with creep oil as they retune their lovebots it's... well, it's not for the faint-hearted, even if the music itself is quite bouncy...

Yeah, you can bounce to this... you might not want to...

It's the feverish bounce you'd get as you unpackage your brand new robowhore, the bounce that comes from a devilish play of the mouth, a curl of the lips...

This is where apple iPod/iPhonophones go when they've stopped being human and delve finally into the pit of moist finger taps and loose trousers and thickly drawn drool. This is why we shouldn't fetishize objects. There may be a moral message here.

This is seedy stuff, unflattering about sex and maybe slightly hateful. Very odd but never wasteful. Very deliberate, composed and considered. A real song-suite in a real album. It would make little sense broken up into MP3s.

And the sleeve is so thick, I can hardly put my fingers around it..