Helge Meyer & Rene Huthwelker - Neuro/BP (2019)

Let us make one thing clear, here, at the beginning of things: Otomatk Muziek is a small tape label. We have no need for advertising, for selling anything you don’t need, for releasing anything we’re not convinced of. And as much as we love drone music, we are super tired of the bazillion of self-sufficient, male drone artists of the internet world. In fact, we couldn’t care less. Boys, this thing is through! Nobody wants to hear you gaffertaping some low key on your synth for another 30 minutes.

This, as an introduction. And believe us one more thing: if you buy one record of slowly evolving music this year, really, this should be it. Because Meyer Huthwelker’s „Neuro / BP“ really has some depth to offer that is missing in most drone records – it is able to move forward, to unfold literary qualities. Taking the hints from the titles, these two pieces sink in deep and perfectly function as neuronal stimuli

Helge Meyer and René Huthwelker emerge from the hydra-headed experimental noise and ambient scene of Hamburg – Meyer is also part of the band Ex-Kopf together with Scheich In China, Huthwelker lately released a great solo tape on Phil Struck’s Stoffe imprint. Together, they play slow moving electronic music, using various modular and semi-modular synthesizers as weapons of choice. Producing mirages. A submarine floating through you. Caressing your inner eel. Their sound fits in perfectly with the city‘s giant port facility - the titles „Lichtmaschine“ and „Taucharbeiten“ both evoke the hard & harsh work done on a ship, but also a sort of deep quietness and sobriety. Tones descent. Abstract sounds masquerade as organic. Amorphous modulation and sparse rhythmic patterns cascade into echoes. Thanks, we’re chill.

„Lichtmaschine“, a stark, meandering synth ride, creeps slowly forward with the rhythmic delicacy of mid-period Wolf Eyes minus John Olson’s wind instruments. „Taucharbeiten“, in contrast, is devoid of any noticeable rhythmic patterns; it is a deep listening exercise, paired with an industrial bleakness.

If music could talk, as The Clash once fantasized, these two pieces would tell a story of visceral magic.