Errorgrid - .XOR

A Closer Listen

The future of instrumental industrial music continues to be safe in the hands of the Errorgrid imprint.  .XOR unites five artists for a compilation that investigates what it means to hold on to one’s humanity in the face of technology and dehumanization: a classic theme in industrial music, but one that has moved swiftly from the realm of science fiction to the real world.

Riccardo Bozzoni leads off the set with “Iridescent,” which begins with a swirl of electronics before the first beats drop.  The piece is thick and dark, as much drone as industrial, a whirlpool of foreboding with a soft ambient center, like angels attempting to break through a cloud of demons.  At the end, the battle continues to rage.

Exan follows with “Throlt Bas,” which immediately introduces a steady beat, then another, the tension beginning to grow.  One thinks of the encroaching dangers of technology, the relentless march to A.I. supremacy, the seemingly unstoppable march of “progress;” but at what expense? Label leader Nundale (Olivier Bernard Egli) contributes “Strat,” whose electronics twist and turn atop non-linear beats.  The track sounds like a computer at war with itself, misfiring and adjusting at the same rate.  As the track begins to steady in the middle, the implication is that the machines will figure it out: a warning to those who ignore the dark side of robotics.

“Rheziduel Rhap Rhephaum” sounds alien from the start, and very much in control.  The patterns and beats are busy, but not benign.  Oberman Knocks introduces stabilizing bass, which fades in and out along with the chimes and chords.  Peering into the heart of the piece, one seeks evidence of humanity, but encounters only a machine imitating what it means to be human.

Finally, Sleep Clinic offers “Pryt16_h06,” which ironically sports the most mechanized title and the most accessible beats.  This club cut sports a catchy bass line and offers an electro-industrial stomp. Where is the border between machines producing robotic music and humans dancing like robots? If humanity loses its empathy, might we welcome our new overlords?  Brand new elements sneak in throughout the eight-minute track, mirroring the development of new technologies here; we barely notice, and then it’s too late.  In the final seconds, the music slows, as if the machine has been turned off.  For now, we still have the power to unplug our programs, but for how long? (Richard Allen)