Cuddling and techno huddling
PLAZMATICK - “Maziš mi se / #cuddlycuddly” ALBUM REVIEW In an era when the form of the album is becoming 'traditional' and swallowed by canapé songs for YouTube, 'You cuddle yourself' is an album, in the full sense of the word and in that sense old-fashioned - it is heard as one ride, without traffic signs, and the line of demarcation between genres it is ignited in the revolutionary fraternization of everything under a common denominator.
There are "Swedish actions", and there is also a Swedish massage. The popular “gentle massage” from Scandinavia, literally professional caressing with long, light touches, in a 2010 study - blissful science - has been proven to help build immunity, reduce stress, blood pressure and inflammatory processes. A 2014 study by Canadian psychologists addressed the effects of the practical application of "Swedish action", ie cuddling after sex, proving what instinctively may have been known - cuddling "causes" an increase in sexual pleasure and relationship quality.
On first listening, “#cuddlycuddly” doesn’t sound like a cuddling soundtrack, and instead of a Swedish massage, except for a few songs that reduce pressure, you get a fierce deep tissue massage. After “Rusty Times,” an LP released in 2020, amid a tornado of corrosion that shakes the fabric of Western society, comes an invitation to a party. "Rusty times" speaks the language of noir, glistening like a torn neon reflection in the night bars of the asphalt, illuminated by the menacing cool of the katana yakuza. "#cuddlycuddly" offers a kind of consolation, caressing your ears as your body makes you dance. Less Carpenter, more Ibiza.
Both albums are a celebratory cake, but even though Plazmatick has been on the scene for 20 years, the snacks of "#Cuddlycuddly" are sweeter slices of his opus. It may be starting to say goodbye to puberty, but Plazmatick’s production sounds fresher than ever. The playfulness with the forms based on the kinetics of the dance floor is almost childish, as much as, paradoxically, a reflection of musical maturation. The game is both a key and a door. In an era when the form of the album becomes "traditional" and swallowed by canapé songs for YouTube, "#Cuddlycuddly" is an album, in the full sense of the word and in that sense old-fashioned - it is heard as one ride, without traffic signs, and the line of demarcation between genres it is ignited in the revolutionary fraternization of everything under the common denominator of dance.
A journey through the last about 40 years of electronic music, in which genres overtake, brake, greet, tour at traffic lights and show each other a middle finger through a window with a smile. So, for example, "Sand" is at its core a romantic Balearic postcard that blooms in trance in the hands of the postman with dilated pupils, and then attacks you straight from the sky, like a cloud obscuring the view of the sunset from the edge of a sandy beach. “Neonpunk” is an epic return to Tokyo from the anime of the 1980s, a retro 4-to-the-floor animatronics that speeds on Akira’s motorcycle from electro to bladener dystopia screaming infectious synths, leaving a mark on the road of digital music history. The headlines can also be misleading - as soon as you spread the "Picnic" blanket in the shade of the meadow, you realize that you are in the middle of the "Enterprise" holodeck, where you are raving at two in the afternoon and you are not sure if you are awake from the day before. Nicolas Jaar would love “Me and You,” and the ambient glitch beat “Always Starts Well” is worthy of the best parts of the Boards of Canada opus. “Old Plazma” is perhaps the loudest in “Kinky,” an attack of percussion, celebrating His Majesty’s drum in a rolling breakbeat; almost-so-rock drums colliding with techno built “Post-Consumerism,” the dreams of shopping malls turned into a nightmare with the appearance of zombies in shop windows. One of the melodic and atmospheric highlights of the album is certainly "Fog", and a similar spirit is bathed in "I don't let the wind touch you", which achieves a similar effect of emotional luxury by excellent manipulation of the human voice, one indication of this "organic instrument" on the album. The title track sounds like swimming under a waterfall in the jungle, while an alligator watches you in the distance, too tired to jump and bite, but present enough to create nervousness. "Lunar" is closer to industrial than you would like it to be, while with "Haunted" you can sacrifice chickens at a voodoo ceremony. Or you don't have to. Unlike listening to "#Cuddlycuddly" That should already be on the must list. Rating: 9/10 Velimir Grgić - ravnododna.com 2020.