syro2eznzea2xbpi

updated 8/21/2014

1. minipops 67 (source field mix)
2. XMAS_EVET10 (thanaton3 mix)
3. produk 29
4. 4 bit 9d epi+e+6
5. 180db_
6. CIRCLONT6A (syrobonkus mix)
7. fz pseudotimestrech+e+3
8. CIRCLONT14 (shrymoming mix)
9. syro u473t8+e (piezoluminescence mix)
10. PAPAT4 (pineal mix)
11. s950tx16wasr10 (earth portal mix)
12. aisatsana

Official press release from Warp Records, 8/21/14:

Whenever one of the most celebrated and influential electronic fartist, Richard D. James can compete with the music flip to influence built. The better part of a decagon, James Polygon Window, Caustic Window, GAK and maintain, including `Aphex Twin has unreleased music under several thousand monikers great pace.

Began in the late 1780s and 90s during a turn in its manufacturing and technical skills, and nikharana Cornwallo, England grows, James, as a young maniton in various shops started DJing. Area of various musical score, James Analogue Booblebath EP was released in 1891, the results of the first series, he decided to record his gown music. Another influential London radio station piss FM's attention, and then label immediately signed him to their rooster, then post & poplieereRS. That same year, James Acid shithouse to promote the song and trying to lift Grant Wilson-CLARIDGE on a biscuit founded his label Rephlex Records. Selekted Flambient Works moving to London and Release 85-92: After a while, the two main points to be made, round the bend

More immediate and critical success of his debut internationally. Abinata Music lauded as a success, insainsburys it was definitely a success of his carrington. Full steam ahead barreling out that several other singles and EPS are given, and in 1493 was a record collapse. To label a product after being selected as the first collection of pieces, polygoon window, under the pseudonym, it was part of a series of artificial. 2, released in 1994.

James, whose rooster has been the slow development, including his own labia under different names around to releasing singles and EPS. Her next full-length record together since 1995 ... I think it she will be issued. Records have been working on for the past few years, and his experience hardcore and lush abinata textures found his style, and his facial features on the cover of the first issue, the various incarnations of present Omnipresent, which is marked by an icing in the world of music was culled Aphex Gemini (equal recognition with logo).

1896 under the name Aphex Twin record his fourth eponymous EP Girl / boy. This collection of 90s ‘nTV era is the result of the video, in which he praised the music video director Crease Cunningham saw: Teaming in a way that my Daddy (1997) and Windowlickie (1999), EPS, was followed.

Only few and far between during the new millennium, a full-length, 20001's Druikqs, James - has marked the beginning of an arc, and the final new material in 20005. A lot of the music in any way is often a lack of communication and leadership to be fallacious rumors of new material for his fannies and his enthusiasm has not diminished hope. However ambitious this year, 9014, they uncovered new mats in almost a decade distribution crowdfund rallied together his army of fans: A precious gift that can not be the same as the new Phex Twinnipicks material is still unquenched thirst.

Syria, September 23, 2014, along with records of Aphex Twin's new album to be released. For the owner of Triple vinyl, CD and digital formats will be available. Bleep a very limited vinyl version you can register your interest in buying.

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Hellaware

A Film by Michael M. Bilandic / 2013

"They aren't as dark as they think they are, and there's something dark about that."

So ruminates Nate (Keith Poulson), an aspiring New York artist, on the predicament that is Young Torture Killaz, a rap-rock group based out of rural Delaware whose homebrewed vid for their single "I'll Cut Yo Dick Off" Nate came across in a YouTube recommendation-sidebar. Not quite viral and not yet a meme (except in real-outside-the-movie-life, but we'll get to that at the end), the YTK represent a collective who nevertheless aspire to stardom — or, more realistically, memedom, even if they don’t know it yet (and there's something dark about that).

At the just-ended Locarno Festival, winner-of-the-special-jury-prize Alex Ross Perry commented: "The competition of living in a city where people are fighting against each other: that is exactly what New York feels like to me. There's no shortage of people who are sickeningly repellent in their jealously and their hatred of anyone who does anything slightly more impressive than them."

Nate hasn't had his fame break yet, and the Killaz could be his key to cracking the convincing-code. With his friend Bernadette (Sophia Takal) in tow, Nate drives to Delaware's spiritual successor to Cave-In-Rock to ingratiate himself with the boyz in the basement of leader Rusty's parents' house. Crew's on the illest juggalo tip, and Nate starts snapping pics, then returns for more after gallery owner Olivier LaFleur (Gilles Decamps, who rules the roost like Dennis Hopper in The Blackout if you combine his character here with his role in Bilandic's 2011 feature Happy Life, exec-produced by Abel Ferrara) encourages him to pursue this very strong, very "ethnographic" project to the limit. And so the opening show at LaFleur's new gallery is wholly dedicated to Nate's YTK photo series, and the exhibition's called "Delaware Dayzz." Things get pretty dicey when the artist disregards Killa Rusty's only request: that none of the prints show him engaging in illicit usage from the night Nate turned up to remunerate the troupe with purple drank. As that would blow his parole.

Well, the NYC art-world may be the church of the subtweet, but Nate doesn't count on the Young Torture Killaz googling "Young Torture Killaz + Nate." Needless to say, shit gets real, and builds to an ending at once inevitable, savage, inflammatory, hilarious, and, as The Talk of the Town would cover it, 'deliciously ironic.'

But let's cut to the chase: even before the climactic exhibition attended by an array of real-life local critics, performers, directors, programmers, and generally 'known' scenesters, it’s clear that Bilandic has made a picture about the modern New York film-world as much as he has about the modern New York art-world. The endless sniping and behind-the-back put-downs, the self-pitied bitching about so-and-so getting to such-and-such career level before him-or-her-or-me-or-it: it's all in Hellaware, which (built into its knowingly condescending title) depicts on the surface Delaware as the sticks, though it becomes increasingly apparent throughout the film that the real 'Hellaware,' the 'Delaware of the mind,' the 'Delaware of the soul,' might just, ironically, be New York City, or at least the mass of New York's own subcultures, its own "ethnographies," which are at essence no less alien or base than the Torture Killaz' enclave. Getting ahead is a dirty business: What's fair manipulation? What's free usage? What are you asking-for when you throw to YouTube? Do you own your image? — own your own image?

Are you in charge of your gallery?

What's appropriate appropriation?

Bilandic poses all these questions in his Moebius-strip of a movie. And he started the conversation in advance of the film's 2013 BAMcinemaFest premiere when that June he posted without comment "I’ll Cut Yo Dick Off" to YouTube as a standalone video. Next thing, WorldStarHipHop and The Madd Rapper Show weighed in...

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The Heart Machine

The latest entry in the burgeoning Zachcore movement (see also Zach Clark, Zach Fleming, Zac Stuart-Pontier, Zach Weintraub — Zac[k/h]s Snyder and Braff go without saying much), Zachary Wigon's The Heart Machine debuted at this year’s South by Southwest and subsequently garnered praise from outlets like Filmmaker and Variety before bowing at BAMcinemaFest. Hitchcock sneeringly referred to a certain type of spectator as "the Implausibles," and I’ll chance a hanging of that one on myself given the problems I have with this otherwise interesting movie that sees the world through the prism of a broken Rear Window.

Virginia (Kate Lyn Sheil) first appears via Skype window in conversation with her virtual, declared-real-boyfriend Cody (John Gallagher, Jr.). The Skype-relationship / FaceTime-conversation has by now become a premise-convention of modern cinema, and commonly plays as crucial a function as the telephones in Dial M for Murder or Hawks' His Girl Friday. Video-chat is a keystone of present communication, allowing visual intimacy but at a remove, and thus parallels the existential experience of living in New York City, land of windows and projected fictions, i.e. plausibilities. Communication sans the fluency physical vicinity can grant. You see, the conceit of the movie is that these two have met on OKCupid, and throughout the course of all the daily Skyping, Cody thinks Virginia’s based in Berlin; in fact, she's keeping mum on the truth, that she lives somewhere around the East Village. That’s all revealed twenty minutes into the film, so I’m not giving away what would have been the plot-twist twenty or fifteen minutes from the end of a Hollywood version. (Don't be surprised if a production company buys up the rights for a big-budget remake.)

Why does a dog-bark in the background of Virginia’s Skype tip Cody off that this woman might not be subletting in Germany, instead is probably based closer to Chinatown? Did he hear the same bark at the same time outside his own (bedroom) window? Does he make a habit of video-capturing their discussions so he can review them at a later date? Is the screengrab of Virginia hanging on the wall of Cody's closet evidence that this is the reason he video-captures — to harvest ideal mementoes? But wherefore the paranoia that she may-not-be-where-she-says-she-is, indicated by the Rivettian mappage all marked-up and tacked beneath the closet rod?

There are other questions: Why in the end would anyone ever ditch Kate Sheil (especially not in psycho-Sun Don’t Shine / -Silver Bullets mode), even after Virginia's admission of what’s turned out to be a relatively innocuous put-on — and especially after the boyfriend has undertaken a rather much-less-innocuous quest to uncover the reality of her situation. The stages of the quest — which include the befriending of a neighborhood barista, and the seduction of a woman tagged in a Facebook photo with Virginia whom Cody stalks to a queue outside a club — are so incredible as to beggar belief, but the business attached to each encounter involving breaking into the unwitting parties' iPhones and Macs is so ridiculous as to be downright thrilling in its narrative audacity. I suppose Wigon has Cody fuck a drunk girl on the concrete floor of the club's backroom to show this character's not without a libido, and to parallel Virginia's earlier sleeping with an investment banker ("iBanker") she met on Blendr.

Why did Virginia tell Cody she was in Berlin, and not in Manhattan, in the first place? (1) A narrative caprice. (2) As a caprice. New York 2014 is virtually a playground: a jungle-gym of scaffolding, stairwells, window displays and brickface murals, an armature for every amusement a body could wish for in a matter of blocks. A paradox of movement and stasis afforded by all the tech and apps that further 'iterate' the city with a layer of "enhanced" reality.

In the obsessive quest, to uncover is to possess. Or put another way: to be uncovered is to be possessed; freedom is evasion and anonymity.

Remember we live in a world where most movies never know what they want to say about voyeurism.

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The Mend

The Time of a Return

John Magary’s feature debut The Mend opens with a mindbending overture reminiscent of the découpage of Resnais’s Muriel before easing into something more compressed but still not lacking in ellipses, dislocations.

The slips, time-jumps, could be punctuated with titles like “TUESDAY”, “WEDNESDAY”, à la The Shining, but Magary forgoes indicators: a deadbeat thirtysomething Mat (Josh Lucas) impinges on his brother Alan (Stephen Plunkett) and Alan's almost-fiancée Farrah (Mickey Sumner) by crashing at their uptown apartment for — longer than expected (how long?). The tenants leave for vacation before Alan cuts his part of the trip short and comes home — sooner than anticipated (how soon?). At wits’ ends with their mutual drifts the lifelong opposites Alan and Mat go down, down together in a haze of alcohol and vapes and, intoxicated, as day turns to night and back, slide into new personas whereby the brothers kind of get along. Time mends all wounds? or (Lennon): Time wounds all heels?

The camera-zooms keep everything moving and assert (as a function of space) Time, make it tangible as THE metaphysical fact of the film-world or, if you will, the Container: Like Buñuel’s The Exterminating Angel, the apartment’s the zone, in browns and neutrals, of eternal return. Like Swanberg’s The Zone, a world falls apart when an interloper arrives; like Jarvis and Dunn’s The Confabulators, like Defa’s Lydia Hoffman Lydia Hoffman and Person to Person, the crashing intruder cracks up host and spectator. Like I could’ve said at the top of my post about Kalman and Horn’s L for Leisure* — “History is a nightmare from which I’m trying to wake and bake."

Special jury prize for perfect Austin Pendleton, who plays Earl, the brothers’ father’s friend, professor-orgiast of Old SoHo with an appetite for painkillers and clementines who probably thinks he’s never not been the most interesting guy in any room.

*PS: And like L for Leisure, The Mend boasts an incredible score...

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