ADARCAH IANQU'S FOR CATHERINE

Adarcah Ianqu's for catherine is more subdued than the artist's previous industrial constructions, but no less engrossing in its haunting range. 

Its attributing title invokes something personal, but for those on-the-outside-looking-in, there's clear and present danger among the tracks. It's as if its six offerings were chiseled to lure extra-terrestrials to Earth (and all to an invading fault) or perhaps to hatch a forbidding plan in some dark, decrepit chamber: you know, subversive, man-made stuff.

The initial entry, "Oh big father Hades you missed me undead" references a Euro horror/sci-fi, director's cut, bearing a label as extended as the imagined film itself. Subsequently, it opens with a cylindrical screw (a twisted jar lid that implies the outstretch of Martian tentacles), but as the content progresses, it slams hard on the baroque keys and weaves a tolling clock that signals a dire destiny for those who encouraged the parasitic descent.

With "the most beautiful trip from the existence", the projected doom is more relaxed, tingling like a skeleton in a cold, unkempt graveyard. Here we have preparation music for Burke and Hare or ceremonial revs for Psychomania's motorcyclists: wicked and weird. 

For the third entry, "singing in philozof bordel {shamanic determinism's antique poem}", one faces the most terrifying horror of all: the scholarly sort. The notes are ponderous enough to suit the track's Hegel/Marxist motif, babbling a nonstop, dungeon cry from which unrealistic promises keep one shackled, misguided and weak.  

With "singing in Morpheus arms death sleepy whispers", a corpse rests in a station of clanging scalpels and yanked thread. From its pricking allusion, one senses a doctor and his hunched henchmen mending and dabbing to sculpt new life. And in bold reply, the track is complemented by an electrocuting sequel, subtitled "{poet negra v!vers", where the results are now dispatched, stomping the stormy night hungry for supple flesh. 

The album concludes with "beloved sons of Israel", which sounds endearing enough, but Ianqu's execution strikes a wearisome struggle, a flight from all the daunting strife, told as a plodding march to plaintive parts unknown. 

For catherine is a mechanical anthology of romanticized pessimism and vain escape: a catalyst for one's deepest, darkest dreams, as anesthetizing as it is chilling from beginning to end. 

Open one's ears (and subconscious) at 

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