2 birds 1 stoned

Pulse HandleChilled Mug

Guy Gerber

could write an anthem for all sorts of activities that usually don’t get fanfare.

Getting stoned on turkish delight. Oh, that invisible romance.

His best beats have a synthetic bubble window of structural support with a natural (if isolated) world inside.

Or unnatural stretch of intimacy. You know, an elastic waistband.

There is a certain amount of humour in his music, there is too much giggling joy in these compositions to take completely seriously. The drum-circle grooves suggest a impromptu party, perhaps, one that could dissolve as suddenly as it began. They are suspended so far away from the every day by their enormous hyper-real sheen of production that, if it’s screwing around, it must then be the screwing around of the divine. Or a highly focused human effort after all.