To write of Dysmorphik is to tease a treasure lost to the Internet's youth, years before the current perceived permanence of data. I discovered this Industrial musician through online communes, an early form of social media where artists where talking direct and giving their music away for free through MP3 sharing websites long dead. I had a collection of about twenty tracks obtained in my youth and a few years back managed to contact the man himself. He graciously sent me the missing songs from the only two albums before vanishing into a puff of smoke, with all traces of his peculiar art disappearing online, possibly forever! Many of these songs have been burned into my mind, occupying a strange space no other artist can get close to. Its survived the years, stitched to my painful youth and growth out from that darkness.
Tick, Burn, Screech & Halt is an amateurish debut, a wonderful cascade of obtuse noises, smashed and molded into an broken heap of sound. In that wreckage, something spectacular lurks. Its dystopian, alien and difficult. As far as Industrial music goes, this has many of the common hallmarks, yet the end result feels oddly different. A downtrodden voice broods between the cracks of melodies, rhythms and slabs of sound crammed together with force. These songs are an ugly mess birthed from beautiful intentions of expression. In that is a magic not often heard.
Most these tracks consist of several layers. Rattling, gritty and stiff percussive grooves get wedged between slabs of Industrial noise distortion. Airy synths lurk in the distance, softly groaning with unease, shaping a mood. Around them a calamity of stabbing synths, wobbling basslines, strikes and crashes prod and poke into the mix with a mechanical madness. The voicing that get sliced in are often of that whispering, shadowy variety. When reaching to hold a note its charm is solely in the attempt.