The emoting Eamon the Destroyer has returned, and accompanying the crafty artist is an album remix of his mood-cranked Small, Blue Car, delivered by the outside-the-box Bearsuit Records.
The Re-made/Re-modelled edition holds the same intent, but it's shaken in such a way to bounce upon one another in a unique, sequelized succession.
That means we get another queue of sleek, Tom Waits groans and electro-pop, dystopic shoves, more crashing and burning screeches and heated halts, and above all, more fortune through accident.
Yeah, Re-made/Re-modelled sure does live up to its name, adding more gas, more traction to each track.
For example, "Silver Shadow", as recharged through the Yopeneko and Ryota Mikami reinterpretations, presses harder (the former whirring like a broken robot and the second like a pinball machine that's lost its springs), as does Moth Poet's slippery "Slow Motion Fade", a companion piece (one might now argue) which blurs a long, breezy streak before flopping toward sedation.
The prickly hymn, "My Drive" (with either the Michael Valentine West, Hanali or the House of Tapes remixes) and the sugary-vocalized "Nothing Like Anything" (thanks to the Senji Niban and Like This Parade remixes) are still dreamy in their ominous steaminess, but also wetter around the edges, whereas Harold Nono's "The Tide to Steal Away" revision hits a new, cloudy intersection, before rolling back in a track that aims for Heaven through Hell, or perhaps a sequestered pit where Clive Barker meets Henry Ford.
The fly-buzzed "Avalanche", with its Bigflower and Ememe resurrections, is just as either should sound, creating a duality of thunderous collapses to snuff one's racing senses; but "Humanity is Coming" (as served through John 3:16 and Stricknice) plays like a solemn, severed faith that lands louder than any avalanche, squeezing calamitous normalcy from ambitious flesh.
"Tomahawk Den", as filtered through Societe Cantine, severs the brain, unleashing the gamut of unfettered emotions. To accompany this road-kill lobotomy, Schizo Addict's "Uledaru" rattles in a series of attractive collisions, mounting a mashup of discordance with the high sublime, like some poor sap's religion (or lack thereof) that's been redefined.
Andrei Rikichi's re-stirred "The Conjuring Stop" now caps the metal carnage, even if it comes much earlier in the audio game: a wee premonition, if one will, that permits recommencement on a road that appears common even as it subsides: the evident, whole point of this recharged compilation.
For a ride in Eamon the Destroyer's renewed, blue abyss, insert one's key at
https://bearsuitrecords.bandcamp.com/album/a-small-blue-car-re-made-re-modelled
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