If-Then-Else
Warhead

I don’t have this record; I've wanted it for decades. I know it exists, but I don’t look for it. I have the conceit that sooner or later, I’ll construct it mentally. One day, I’ll go to the turntable and find it among the others as if it had always been there. I’ll slip it out of the cover and, detached as if nothing had happened, place it on top to make it spin.

From Contagion records, the label, I have another record, a 12" that plays at 45 RPM by Afterimage, it’s called "Fade In". When I touch it, it comforts me that all this isn’t a fantasy. There are two "songs" on the internet that fix the mental aid on the existence of the object. The two pieces are astonishing; the two pieces definitively resolve for me that the future, the novelties, is a circle that closes: feeling temporal translation in proposing novelties on a 1981 record.

Dix Denney & John Denney are the brothers who conceived all this. Their mother had conceived them as Siamese twins, separated at birth. It’s not true, but I like to think of them that way, given the unity of intent that emerges from listening to those two pieces that make you fantasize about the rest of the record, creating a dark electronic epic on what black holes the other compositions are. And it’s not the fear of being disappointed that stops the search for the vinyl; on the contrary, there’s the fear that the flow of the rest will draw you to a point of no return in experiments with primordial sounds reverberating analog cybernetics.

What the convent offers already goes beyond expectations and monastically covers our experimental part. The martial nature of the noise keeps you "on your toes." One finds themselves in a grace of God of bloody trance reiterations where the coldness of hypnosis tans our organic circuits, stimulating them to a spatial abandonment accompanied by a hailstorm of baptisms of ogival debris.

Dramatically absent is the sound rendition of a cosmic station that has lost contact with the Earth base, creating an apocalyptic epic of messages in bottles launched randomly at the borders between universes. Thus, a grotesque soundtrack is created in its horrific changing, floating in the void (losing included).

The result is omitted by the loop triggered that shines the truth that with certain experiments, "we were better off when we were worse off." Weirdos (the) who read...