Nicholas Price's Liquor Store creates high-adrenalin tracks. Dark Stuff is no exception. In fact, it takes the artist's fantastic fuel to an even wilder dance-floor level.
To elaborate, Dark Stuff is at once futuristic, retro, toon-ish and Slavic in its rapid, melodious slips, but no matter how one dares to label its tracks, they all flip with a gremlin-yankin' liveliness that defies their suggested, dystopic entrapments.
The epitomizing example is, in fact, the first. "Kovankastika" squeezes a drumroll akin to a hot-plated bean, as reinterpreted by a contorting, Russian gymnast. To rephrase, this one is an unmitigated surge that bursts from the heart as it slingshots into the foreign soil of one's soul.
"Berinahkaka" presents a sequel to the Slavic flavor, but its audio taste is more computerized in its punch-key spree. It doesn't reflect so much a physical contortion, but rather the furious folding of a mind. It's a panic-mode epic, but for all its frenetic fumes, its contagious computations induce an inebriation that mundane panic could never secure.
To extend the prior's vim, "Sookantania" skews a headbanging explosion, all within a robotic relegation. It, too, is computerized, for all the catchy bells and whistles it employees, but it's also powerful in tone, not harmful or cruel by any means, just from-the-gut uninhibited. That means it quickens an air of prison-breaking liberation, and who doesn't desire that?
"Cavertinkikos" snaps back to the shackles, but it's still pretty breezy as it treks a distinct, sci-fi trail. It's John Zakour material on top, but on its underbelly, sheer Knight Rider, exposing all the intricate parts of KITT's brain, though taking the components to celestial perches previously unexplored. Yeah, this one really sparks the imagination and with a kick that gets one's gas flowin' full throttle.
"Wool Over the Eyes" is the album's cynical track, rolling like chained tires pulled through screaming snow: effective but illegal. It takes its time to mount, but once it passes its questioning contemplation, this one becomes soaring, top-ten pop.
"Utoshipinia" works more like a seafaring romp: a trip upon a wavering sea of doom. But then, who's to say that any such splashy sojourn can't be uplifting if it embraces its pessimism in a way that proves so cool?
"Dukantika" returns to the album's implied, disco roots, but it's madder than disco could ever be. This one is mosh-pit propelled, hateful and euphoric, behaving as wise-ass punk, landing as a rebellious afterthought, but no matter the classification, it sure makes one wanna groove.
Heck, the same can be said of "Demon Dancer", though here we're dealing with something that's far more business high-tech in its provocation. This one exists to summon a sleek, A.I. hellspawn at a lofty price, and there ain't nothin' wrong with that, if the product dispels the tension-pinned doldrums.
With this said, "Deep Dark Bitter Sweet Sugar" is a perfect antitoxin for any of life's many mean letdowns. It's a cure-all, audio pill that drives like unapologetic sex or any number of segments from that virile anthem, Fight Club, its prohibited vibe pornographic and freakin' soothing as it settles one into the right primal place.
The album is capped by "The Last of Us", which creates a finger-popping shuffling out the door. It's considerate but no less insane for its hollering adios, representing Mr. Price and Liquor Store to a wink-and-nudge, sardonic tee.
Listen to Dark Stuff and have a devilish good time at
https://liquorstore1.bandcamp.com/album/dark-stuff?fbclid=IwAR0qNB6nhe8oLpe8jsmK8ZI8Dp-PSuem-uWdvcvQF761_8UFXXBVQnNLJtY
And in case one was wonderin', the untamed and varied artwork contained in this assessment is also from Mr. Price. Admire more of it at
https://www.facebook.com/nicholasjames.price.3
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