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Rating: We have already talked about the now extremely rare series "Chopped Zombie Fungus," the sought-after trilogy in t r e volumes that, around the early 2000s, brought prestige to the name of the radical Schematic, a fertile ground for the equally radical Otto Von Schirach, to say the least inspired in this project. The compilation "Chopped Zombie Fungus," still available, not only aids those discouraged by the relentless 'out of stock' present with all Schematic distributors, but can be said to represent the exclamation point on the aforementioned series, presenting itself as a sort of additional, fourth and final piece (after which Otto will decisively change direction, crossing the thresholds of breakcore, Miami bass, trash-gabber, death metal, and more).
What, then, is the reason for reviewing a compilation containing three EPs already extensively covered? The answer is quickly given: fourteen minutes of unreleased material, three incredible bonus tracks and, foremost, one of the highest peaks of the vonschirachian testament, namely the last track (untitled, like the other two), where in ten minutes Otto reduces the previous seventeen tracks to pure exercise (tracks far from overlookable, by the way). The password is always the same, here as elsewhere: experimentation. Otto seems inspired by the surrealism of Nurse With Wound (an artist he highly esteems) and the DSP disorientation of Autechre, without missing the indispensable personal touch of madness and dementia; ten minutes of insane IDM polyrhythms surrounded by intricate interlocks and sub-interlocks in the interlocks, in turn floating in noisy puzzles and mazes of unidentified sound masses, with sound at the center of it all; it is incredible to think about the life of its own and the natural evolution - almost human despite its extreme digitalism - of this piece, almost a response to the progressive of King Crimson (but, as I've said elsewhere - easily dismounted by listening to it - , his seems to be a progressive for mentally retarded individuals, freed from frills, magical plots, and languid guitarisms); here there are tales of scrambled brains, urine showers, menstrual drinks, and dinners consisting of quintals of shit, maybe with a diarrhea puree; the disgust that Otto proposes seems to have no limits, every second of this piece (as well as much of the others) wants to bring out all the best from the worst that electronic music can offer; after all, just a few notes changed, a few minor chords, replacing those cartoon melodies for mono-neuronic eight-year-olds with abstract, complex, algorithmic watercolors, stuff from Reaktor or Max that screams sound art.. perhaps just a few fewer clown vocals or a more sober sound and what we would have would be nothing more or less than a masterpiece of popular experimentation to be celebrated in the most authoritative sectors, those that people vote for on Brainwashed in practice.
Otto, however, doesn’t give a damn about all this, about exposing who-knows-what revolutionary theories and who-knows-what engaged concepts, and we like it that way: the goal is cubed mucking around, and this track hits the mark; we indeed encounter a sort of sound circus, a musical cabaret comparable only to the best Zappa and Residents, where satire and veiled shots at the American system follow perhaps with less wit than the latter, but certainly with more means: the means of the most advanced digital technology, of which Otto is in my opinion among the leading current exponents, together with luminaries such as Autechre, Richard Devine, Datach’i, Venetian Snares, Matmos, and company, only conveniently labeled as IDM or breakcore, in reality always and constantly uncategorizable, always searching for the unheard sound, the impossible drafting, the implantation of new ideas, and the non-trivial rewriting of third parties (Residents, Mr. Bungle, Zappa).
The two other 'untitled' tracks are the cherry on top, the first is a sort of sick hip hop where behind stupid riffs and Miami bass beats, our man randomly rants vomiting fuck and tits and pussy and piss left and right, just like a child learning them for the first time, the second is as spectacular as it is brief, 34 seconds of ping pong between a pseudo-industrial-pseudo-Miami bass fragment and another of pure vocal cannibalism, tracing Patton’s experiments (with the legendary "Adult Themes For Voice" in mind), but with one more not negligible ally, technology, her again.
This is a compilation that provides a valid overview of post-2001 Von Schirach, namely the middle ground between his first abstract period and the second absurd one. To delve deeper into the other tracks, I refer you to the respective EPs.
Tracklist and Videos
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