Dan Michiu - Pithecanthropus Carpathicus

Released: April 12 

Strangely named after a long-extinct hominid, Pithecanthropus Carpathicus is an odd collection of tape-driven sounds and buzzing electronics spread out over two long-form tracks, both of which possess similar names. The first of these two tracks is an interesting piece as the electrical buzzing that seems to define it is periodically interrupted by the oddest assortment of noises. Strangely organic sound peek in to create the sense of developing musicality as it is commonly understood, but none of these sounds are allowed to stick around long enough to maintain any real sway over the direction of the track. The sound of a whining ungreased spool comes in intermittently as a organ-like sound plays out something resembling notes in other spots. Regardless of what instruments or other sounds try to crop up, the noise persists in keeping it relegated to the background. The constant humming demand the listeners attention no matter what. 

The second track on the album sticks to this same theme so tightly that the two are required to be listened to in succession. The division between these two tracks is simply due to necessity facilitated by a physical medium. The sounds on both feel so off-putting, eerie, and strange. The squealing, scraping, whining, and rumbling pop in and out the create an atmosphere of forgotten machines. Machines that would seemingly have no life in them if it weren't for the constant electrical buzz taking up the forefront. For only being a combined runtime of just under thirty minutes, this album feels like an hour-long meditation of some sort. Not the calming kind, mind you. This is more like the kind in which you are deprived of normal stimuli to the point that the noises of the cage around you become your solace, which may sound unpleasant. But once you embrace it, it can become a memorable moment that you can't quite shake.