Sunday, July 26, 2009

GTUK- Illusions to the Max

Sebastian Hagedorn, AKA, GTUK is a small German man who plays with an assortment of Lo Fi electronics, including toddler keyboards, and screams grindcore like vocals through a My First Sony cassette-player. That's pretty much the jist of it.

So what would someone like you, let's presume a mild mannered person, be thinking or feeling listening to this album, Illusions to The Max? Nostalgia. If you're like me, you grew up around the time or was surrounded by Nintendo and Arcade Games. Now as a little kid, while all my friends were playing with their fancy shmancy Nintendo 64s and Playstations, I had to settle for fucking books. Which is probably why I'm sitting here now writing this and not playing Grand Theft Auto. However, ever a play date did I spend either getting my ass kicked in Smash Bros., or watching other people play in frustration. So I stuck to reading books.

But now as I listen to this record, I can't help but feel not only nostalgic, but Childlike even. In fact, this is a very childish record, at least on one side. Which is all thanks, once again, to the Low Fi production. Sometimes, however, it sounds like the Apocalypse. It's the now age old concept of melody and chaos, serenity and violence, the whole schpeal. Nineteen songs in about half an hour, Illusions to the Max is a fucking blitzkrieg of sound, reveling in dynamics and kicking your nerves in their rectum. Melodies start, change tempo, work themselves out, and then crash and burn into chaos.

Don't be fooled, however, by all my beauty \chaos\serenity\apocalypse blahblahblah mumbo jumbo bullshit (I didn't think you would). Because on top of all that, this is still catchy as fuck. The melodies in tracks like “Happy Birthday Dresscodes” and “Dreams2” will be stuck in your head for days. And I personally think that this can get just as much Stupid Hipsters and clubbers alike on the dance floor, if not more, than Cut Copy, DJ Tiesto, Rihanna, Timbaland, or whatever stupid shit you're listening to, if it was correctly distributed.

Call it what you will; nintendocore, cybergrind, 8 bit screamo, it doesn't mater. It's eccentric, it's crude, it's beautiful. Either listen and get kicked in the balls (figuratively) or don't, and get kicked in the balls (literally).


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