We use cookies on our website to provide you with the best experience. Most of these are essential and already present.
We do require your explicit consent to save your cart and browsing history between visits. Read about cookies we use here.
Your cart and preferences will not be saved if you leave the site.
play
Out of stock

Rob Mazurek

Music for shattered light box and 7 posters

Label: Bottrop-Boy

Format: CD

Genre: Experimental

Out of stock

Getting a grip on the chaos that surrounds us: for American artist and trumpet/cornet player Rob Mazurek the time has come to make a statement. Every right-minded lover of modern music knows his jazz and post-rock explorations with bands such as Chicago underground duo Isotope 217 and Tortoise. Nevertheless, inside this vintage improviser there also lurks a passionate multimedia artist who likes to speak his mind, especially in a time when his home country is starting to reveal the darkest and most vulnerable corners of its soul. The fact that Mazurek has recently moved to Brazil has not clouded his crystal clear vision of a derailed western civilisation. Mazurek’s installation-cum-composition Music for Shattered Light Box and 7 Posters expresses his personal vision of the world through sight and sound. This frequently exhibited installation revealing in its simplicity. A flickering light box, smashed in with a brick, along with several apocalyptic canvases tell the story of a grimy and chilly underworld. This installation is inextricably linked to the composition which shares its name, which is now available on Bottrop-Boy. Hold on tight during this forty-minute cascade of sounds in which Mazurek has managed to establish a link between his darkest musical nightmares and the listener who is fed them bit by bit. This loud electronic trip will rarely allow you to come up for air. The source of these electronically excavated and resurrected sounds remains a mystery, but who cares? Uncontrollably splitting noise eruptions, unhinged beats, aching alarms and ominous hisses stutter and splutter past, all but refusing to leave the listener alone.
Details
Cat. number: b-boy 022
Year: 2004