Circuit Circuit - Body Songs EP
Circuit Circuit's aesthetically sharp sound pierces its way through the surrounding airwaves. The Tennessee outfits second project, the 'Body Songs' EP, hones in on the organised confusion and tightens its nuts and bolts - making it a fine-tuned fiasco in the process. Put the tape in; let the chaos commence.
Body Songs is claustrophobic - like a rat trapped in its own coffin; clawing for air. The need for that next breathe has become savage. The nails have become bludgeoned and bleed. Useless and crippled, like local anesthetic through limbs. Disjointed and disheveled. Disgustingly bent. Disfigured. Gravity renders it a lost cause. The weight crushing and crunching in its power. Bones disintegrate. Vaporized inside skin suits. Skin stretched and split. Like watermelons under pressure. The equator line is forced simultaneously inward as outward. Blunt trauma. A seismic impact. Dull dents in the psyche. Malfunctions in focus. Glitches which shift specific aspects of reality - placing you in a space of self-doubt and denial. Scissors snip as scalpels scrape. Butchers of the paranoid variety. Distortions in the playing field. Freaking out on an empty stomach just to feel that extra bit of smoldering hunger. The coals of the soul burn red-hot. Giving it a whiff of oxygen may just be the last thing that you do. An animalistic burden tip-toes around your soul. It waits for you to slip-up. Taunts you to slip-up. The grip on life loosens as it becomes more hectic. Things fail to make sense. The sound of weeping has become so constant that you fail to even notice that you're the one weeping. You shed in plain sight.
A catatonic experience is Circuit Circuit's Body Songs. A cluster-fuck of restless revelry. The, hopefully, inevitable debut album is shaping up to be something worth its weight in gold.
