Split by Me and Kodokushi / Ryeshta / Ђћ

VOID112

The sound sparkles from the depths of a black pit that is filled with hundreds of bodies wrapped in barbed wire, moaning among the dry entrails of the dead soil. The monotonous vibration of screams creeps into the ear canals, mixing with the hum of distant sitars and the voices of four faceless figures that stand at the open wormhole. With each note of prolonged suffering, the sullen sun rises from the abyss, crawls out of the shell, throwing off the robe of the skin, sprinkles thick drops on the sand. The sullen sun, silent, quiet, hangs over the heads, illuminates the hands with bliss, reaching for the iridescent rays.

Four figures, three projects, five ragas accompanying the ritual of extracting the luminary.

Me and Kodokushi, a preacher of lonely death and mournful emptiness from Tver, presents a twenty-minute canvas extracted from the womb of a decrepit old hut.

Ryeshta is a recording of the gurgling choir of slit throats, found in the space of the inverted earth, processed and mutilated.

Duo Ђћ marks the culmination of the process. Glitchy noises, waves of synthesized particles, slow electronic rhythms replace the gloomy picture, painting the sky with fabulous colorful crayons.

Label, soaked in the mud of Povolzhye.

Promoting all kind of sonic experiments, both digital and physical releases.

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