Please note ,sleeve is not mint, small split. High Cube is the beat-focused brainchild of Brian Foote (Peak Oil, Leech) and Paul Dickow (Strategy, Community Library), two low-key legends of the American experimental underground. After some 30-odd years of making music separately and together, Foote and Dickow are collaborating in earnest for the first time as a duo. For this debut, the pair enforced a simple, stringent set of rules: five instruments, a one-hour timer, and a total ban on overthinking. The result is a record that is the sound of two old friends unplugging the usual levers and letting the "accident" of their chemistry take the wheel. It is drier, sparser, and decidedly "chunky"—a fictional band stepping into a suit to drive around for a while. It is neither dance nor chill-out, but a moody, complex trajectory defined not by the gear used to make it, but by the narrative mood it compels. "Volcano Snail” starts things off in a disheveled shuffle, locking into gear with blurred and bubbling effluence. The shimmering dimness is lit low, with a woozy gait that recalls the headiest highs and luminescent lows of Jan Jelinek. “Underwater Welder” is a foggy, neon-lit cruise of skittering low-ends suspended in a permanent fall of color, while “A Dragon’s Treasure is its Soul” offers blown-apart, low-end city pop fragmented into an array of rhythmic detritus. Chordal textures hover in the air as a percussive loop takes its beguiling and frolicking shape. B-side opener “Yonaguni” shapeshifts in real time, drifting with the grace of a glacier before bobbing in a frigid pool of vibrating clatter, static, and synth stabs. “Ofid+wor” offers a tried and true blitz of braindance, nodding to an endless list of 20th and 21st-century electronic body music. Buoyant closer “Mother of Thousands” holds a gravity-defying tenderness, pirouetting on a breeze with the elegance of effervescent longing. Woven together, the six extended tracks of High Cube are tethered to nothing but the ether—a giant sonic leap of peripheral absurdity from two artists with a lifetime of shared rhythm.Black Vinyl Repress
