#static noises. analog horror image.

[robotsafari]

a little peek into my twisted mind.

[medicalunprofessional]

the au is getting mental. we started as “hee hee hoo hoo what is bedman was revived snd he was EVIL and ELDRITH HORROR😈😈😈😈” to “robo ky has no lungs and he must breathe. he is an abomination of flesh and alloy *analog horror image*, *static noises*”

[thesnadger]

Speaking of Local 58 have I told you all to watch Local 58 lately?

It’s great, short, 3-minute or so horror videos set up as clips from a local analog TV channel.

There aren’t traditional jumpscares, (though there are occasional beeps and static noises that might be startling) and there is some scary imagery, but it mostly relies on implication and atmosphere rather than jumpscares or shocking images. Instead it gives you a wonderfully creepy feeling that sticks with you.

Here’s the YouTube Channel, I strongly recommend starting with “Weather Service” and “Contingency” but you can watch them in any order.

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 188: Italo Funk

Italo Funk is a new compilation from Soul Clap Records presenting ten loved up and grooved out productions from an insane list of modern Italian artists. On the label’s Bandcamp, there’s an excellent write-up from compilation contributor Lele Sacchi that details the lineage of Italian dance music from its roots in American R&B and funk all the way through to 90s Italo-house. Within this vibrant yet underground house scene, a whole new generation of producers and musicians emerged, taking cues from their forbears while also pushing out into new and adventurous sonic territories and this 90s generation is where Soul Clap focuses their attention. But rather than presenting archival tracks and historical productions, the label instead asked the artists for new compositions and because of this, the compilation provides a welcome view into some of the far-out places the Italo sound has travelled in the intervening decades. And of course the music is pure fire, with a foundation of muscular disco rhythms colored over by an eclectic display of exotic shades and styles. There are many artists here that are old favorites, such as cosmic/balearic master DJ Rocca, vintage disco edit and boogie wizards Tiger & Woods, Dreamhouse Tropicana and sometimes Is it Balearic? contributor Deep88, and the Pastaboys-related Memoryman, Funk Rimini, and Capofortuna. But luckily, there are also a wealth of new (to me) artists such as Boot & Tax, LowHeads, Lele Sacchi, and Jolly Mare, each of which provides a whole new sonic universe to explore.

Soul Clap Records Presents: Italo Funk (Soul Clap Records, 2019) The most atmospheric cut comes first with “Macinare” by Boot & Tax. Sparkling cymbal taps cruise celestial waves of ambiance and blasted screams of static arc across the stereo field as enveloping bass pulsations are built from softly thudding kicks and subsonic currents. A wobbling jazz bassline walks through the mix and cut-up tom fills and wooden polyrhythms grow increasingly anxious while mystical horns blow muted sonic shadows and zany audial liquids slide across the mind. The song grows urgent once martial snare rolls and crashing cymbals start intercuting the flashing tom fills and as paranoid hi-hat patterns enter, everything comes together for a feverish hypno-groove where synths like alien woodwinds solo towards the sky…like spiritual jazz beamed in from another dimension. Capofortuna follows with “MA NU” and its low down synthbass hypnotics. Turntable scratches and bubbling voices samples join sampled crowd chatter while lofi cymbal and snare patterns glide through the air. When the disco kick enters, the filter opens on the bassline, revealing squelching synthfunk fire that supports the cruising double time hats. Cosmic pads stab out then flow in reverse while echo morphing, while vocal samples trail LSD tracers and psychedelic tones roll through the background ether. The slamming groove is also intercut by wild percussive transitions where tropical drum panoramas are overlaid by laser synths echoing eternally. And near the middle, we bust into a jammed out breakbeat that pushes the groove euphoria to a maximum while bending pads waver in place.

Tiger & Woods’ “Machete” sees snares splashing through puddles of gated reverb static while chugging electro-funk basslines sit beneath skipping clicks. Wiggling synth riffs scat alongside shuffling hi-hat patterns and tranced out snare rolls bring in drunken dreamhouse piano ascents, with several layers of ivory climbing together towards the sun. During hypnotizing drop-outs, the kick marches alone beneath French-touch filter clouds as the rest of the rhythms work back to full strength and sometimes the bass drums are sent through heavy high pass fx while island bongos drift in on a warm breeze, the groove growing airy and tropical while gliding on sunbeams. As when we smash cut back to the charged up disco fire, wonky resonant synth leads now converse with the radiant piano riffs. DJ Rocca compresses and crushes the drums of “Do U Lu Me,” while hi-hats and tambourines are mutated into blasts of white noise. An incredible vocal sample repeats the song’s title under spectral filtering until it is ripped into fractal shards…as if pools of neon fluid are dripping in all directions. All the while, a supremely psychedelic bassline sounding like a mutant clavinet growls down low and moves through the mix with hypnotic purpose. Vibraphones sitting under dubwise delay fx drop paradise melodies while flashes of horror movie atmospherics swirl beneath and sometimes the mix drops down to just the magical psych-basslines and panning hand percussion webs. And at some point, as the “do u luv me” vocal loop dances in the air, the rest of the drums slowly build back, eventually climaxing with a vibed out solo section of strange alien synth fx moving in ways that defy logic.

“My Brother” by Memoryman starts as marauding sub-bass currents work their way over some four-to-the-floor beat maximalism for an extended section of hard hitting club fire that is periodically brightened by nacreous synth vapors and organic woodblocks. Heady vocal samples diffuse through the mix while glowing house pads hover in place and off-time snare hits vibe out under layers of reverb. A charging tribal transition leads to a passage of pure propulsion, where birds flutter through layers of sonic mist and ghostly space synths descend and as the drums are reduced to just cymbals and snare and as the subaqueous bassline pulls away, gaseous electronics float alongside exotic synth trails through a wonderland of shadows. But eventually the swinging bass sorcery returns and the song rides high on a perfect paradise groove. Funk Rimini’s “Don’t Smoke” is deeply entrancing, as psychoactive voice samples and mind-bending ambient textures float over dusty percussion loops. Robotic disco beats emerge while alien bell tones float through the psychedelic clouds and a squelched and supremely fat MJ-style bassline drops acidic sunshine riffs. Ethereal pads diffuse into the mix before fading out and aquatic guitar loops riff towards the sunset while swimming through phaser clouds.  During a spellbinding section where the drums pull away, druggy voices chatter across the spectrum and fogbanks of colorful synthesis spring into and out of existence. Then, a glorious Rhodes performance brings the groove back home with its chilled and supremely soulful solo adventures.

LowHeads bring vibes of exotic sunshine with “Tsubasa,” as cymbals and hand drums pulse through a jungle of light. Robotic birdcalls pan ear to ear alongside liquid percussion textures and the kick drum pulls away almost as soon as it enters, allowing hypnotic organ riffs to work over the mind while hazy claps ring out. Electro-percolations underly massive bass stabs once the kick returns and we then find ourselves locked into some ecstatic ritual deep within a forest of groove. Hallucinatory drum fx pan around like the mating calls of extra-terrestrial fauna and at some point the kick drum again recedes, leaving behind a polychromatic world of synthetic nature sounds. As the fusion-tinged disco groove returns, ecstatic flutes fly through the humid air and attempt to converse with alien birds while beneath it all, thudding square wave bass sequences slide up and down the scale. Deep88 follows with a journey into the night, as “SP1200” revels in romantic deep house vibrations. City leveling kicks, panoramic claps, and thudding tom-toms nod out beneath balmy pads that hover like a twilight mist as harsh open hats keep the energetic groove gliding through space. Cosmic woodwinds rain down alongside interstellar mirage electronics…like glassy tones stretched into some sort of sinuous ether. It’s hard to overstate how massive the drums are, with the analog Roland tones dancing through subtle yet vibrant percussive patterns and overall, the song is mostly content to float endlessly on waves of dark fantasy, letting the hyper-active claps, cymbals, and snares control the drama while the soul swims through a cosmic ocean of sparkling synthesis.

A cerebral voice sample is cut-up and delayed in Lele Sacchi’s “Proud” while tropical bongos work over the mix. The bass drum pulls away as slapback shrouded snare and cymbal breaks jam out beneath euphoric rave stabs and once the kick returns, we find ourselves in a mediterranean paradise of gliding disco romanticism. Rapturous pianos rain down peace and harmony while flutes dart around like sunlight reflecting off water and it is impossible to resist the body moving rhythms and surrounding wonderland of soulful Italo melodics. The euphoric rave synths and ambient breakbeats return during a zoned out midtro and once we drop back into the paradise disco flow, it’s like sunshine raining down, blue waves crashing to shore, and bodies moving mesmerically as sea-foam tones and island dream atmospheres fall from the clouds. Jolly Mare’s “Dribbling” features a solitary splatter-kick marching through a new age wonderworld of arpeggiated electronics and feedback squiggles. Ebullient sequences fly over the uptempo kraut-disco stomp with springy tones of metal and glass while hyno-shakers pull the mind further into the groove. Oscillations move like clouds of cosmic dust, hand drums roll through infinite echo-chains, filtered conversations drift all through the spectrum, and evil twanging basslines emerge, eventually embellished by deep space squelches. Sometimes the song reduces to just kick drum, kaleidoscopic hand drum webs, and sinister bass riffs, as shakers evoke rattlesnakes and mystical desert vistas. Other times, everything cuts away, leaving the low slung basslines and psychedelic metal and glass sequences to intertwine with intergalactic broadcasts, radar transmissions, and disorienting alien liquids.

(images provided by Shine PR)

[basalt-dnd]

A few modern monsters, although the Catters could work in fantasy settings, too. I included a more typical-looking one, since the blueish one could be hard to read. There’s plenty of lore under the cut, for those interested!

The artwork is a stock image by Maria Semelevich, combined with my own editing to make it look like a ���glitchy’ ghost.

Grey Messenger

“No such thing as ghosts.” That’s what my brother always told me, when I got scared in the dark. I was a child, then. I tried to imagine him saying it now. I needed it now more than ever. 

The glare of the analog clock cast across the room. It was 2:09. The dark circles under my eyes were reflected on my phone screen. With a click, I turned on its flashlight. Too bright. The shadow of an IV bag cast across the uncomfortably empty room. I had been hearing a noise in the hall since 1:47. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off the clock. If I could, I would go check it out. I couldn’t get up from the hospital bed on my own. Besides, it was a stupid idea. Isn’t that how everyone dies in horror movies?

“No such thing as ghosts,” I reminded myself, aloud. It’s 2:26, or at least it was right before the clock shut off. I can’t get it to come back on. My phone is dead. I feel lightheaded.

“No such thing as ghosts.” No, it can’t be a ghost. The thing I saw in the doorway, the thing that opened the door, it wasn’t a ghost. The clock is back on- it’s 2:34 but it feels like its been an hour. My phone just finished rebooting. It pings. I could’ve sworn I turned it on silent. The thing is gone. I steal a glance at the screen.

“Caller ID Unknown,” the message appeared as a banner on my lock screen. There was no way I was checking it. I had bad enough luck without getting cursed or stalked.

The room went bright as my mum’s laptop sparked. It was on the other side of the bed, on the table. She had left it when she visited earlier, so that I could download her photos from her phone or something. Now, it was white with light. If I could get up and run, I would have. Holy hell did I want to get up and run. 

“Turn on the computer,” another text appeared on my screen. My hands were shaking, but I remained frozen in place. It was from the unknown caller. After a few moments, my phone rang. I let it go to voicemail. The computer was dimming.

“Turn on computer,” a crackly voice came through the phone, “I do no harm.”

I pressed down on the power button to the computer, and the light revived. It shut off with a flurry of static, and I had to blink a few times to see past the glare. I wish I couldn’t see. There it was, the creature from the doorway. It looked like living radio static. It reached out a hand for a handshake.

“You are safe. No such thing as ghosts,” it seems to be speaking through the voicemail on my phone, “I will repair this,” it reconnects a shorted out vitals monitor. 

“No such thing as ghosts,” I repeat, voice shaking.

“Right. I am no ghost,” the monitor flickers to life, “No ghosts.”

Catters

Let me set the scene. It’s a Chicago spring, but it may as well be winter. The rain is like ice, and I’m in an alley clearing out a hive of supernatural moths. The damn things just wouldn’t leave, and if they were around any longer people would get scared. They aren’t supposed to know that the shapes on the lamp-posts aren’t birds. 

The little ones are harmless enough. They look like huge caterpillars with paw-like feet and poisonous fuzz. On the bright side, their silk was pretty useful. It could be used as fabric, nets, and rope when woven together. Unfortunately, babies grow up. Doubly unfortunate for Catters, who go from chubby caterpillars to moths big enough to snatch children. Not that they do, since they eat other bugs.

What’s the big deal, then? Can’t I just leave the furry moths alone? Nope. Just because they don’t eat people, doesn’t mean they aren’t a pest. They’ve already taken down a few power lines with their silk, and it’s only a matter of time before people start taking jokes about Mothman sightings in Chicago seriously. And what, you thought the parrots of Hyde Park downed the power lines with their nests? That’s a cover-up. 

Catters aren’t overly dangerous, but they’re kind of like a gateway drug. See one magical creature for real, and suddenly the rest becomes scarier. Do ghosts exist? Vampires? What do you think? Besides, people aren’t fond of giant bugs. It doesn’t sit well with them, I guess. It’s an easy job for me, though. At least I’m not wrangling gargoyles back onto their building at the Tribune Tower. Trust me, those things were bad. You never know how many gargoyles are in Chicago until they all come to life on one night. Enough of that. There’s caterpillars to be caught.

[garsblog]

Week 06 Microassignment 03 - iComedy

For the iComedy project I made with Garrett, we decided to draw inspiration from an old meme we both had seen on Twitter a couple years ago. It was an image of this man hunched over in a room of filth playing a MicroKorg synthesizer. We thought it would be funny to take that example of complete delusion and immersion into a piece of technology and flip it a bit. In the video we made it starts with the cameraman entering an apartment and looking around at how dirty it is, with a man sitting in the living room playing a synthesizer.

 I edited the video and decided to make it seem even more eerie than it was unedited. I went with a sort of analog horror inspired style, starting with a black and white 126x96 resolution video clip and some flashing static noises, then the video gains color but stays low resolution. The lack of clarity in picture and inability to clearly recognize every item in the video adds extra suspense and ties into the theme of abstract humor in technology. The primary source of humor is that we build this world of discomfort for 30 seconds, a man entranced with his synthesizer, playing ominously without recognizing that someone has entered his apartment, only to just have the cameraman sit down on the couch and for the synth player to smile and say “hey man what’s up?” and go back to playing.  Then to close the video there is the added humor of the random video stutter as the synth player slams the synthesizer and the video shuts off.

link to video here: https://youtu.be/CQkb04ZsOgk