Export Import – Live at Gallery 46 – What do we have here? This is rather electric, 43 minutes? The perfect length for a single, 42 minutes wouldn’t have been enough, 44 would have been self indulgent, I do like a 43 (but then you know that already). Export Import, they clearly don’t do things by halves, there’s a buzz building around this, well this what? What are they? A ten piece band? A collective, an orchestra? Is this a single, an album, they said it was a single (or at least someone at Gallery 46 did). Album? Single? Who need rules, I suspect this one may be figuring in our end of the year best albums list when we do finally get to the end of the year. and make the list.

This live recording is beautifully dark, this is brooding, this is electric, dense, wholesome, unwholesome, some of it sounds like Stravinsky getting into stride, some of demands your ears in that way that Deathgrips voice can, some of it sounds like broadcasts from the other places, some of it sounds like improv jazz, nail-shooting violence, late night mileage, some of it sounds like it comes from those late night bars that only the beautiful people know about. Someone said something about relentless electrical currents to ancient naked skulls, it does kind of sound naked, dark, something forbidden, Synthetic-crucifixion of sensory perceptions, a trip in elephantine space, a crack where the crowd pours in inmates loaded into Cyber-Channels, threaded into psychic dilapidation. This is some kind of relentless hypnotic ritual and get down on your knees and all straight angles and doomsday and hiding in basements and late night while lines and headlights, mathematized forms eclipse, a needle. forever grappling in disintegrating terrain. Lust, hungry at the trough of boundless expanse, contorted and framed into a-micro-slitt. Claws tangled into a fourier-transform of straight lines. It does sound like lust and in a life of their own…

Let me tell you about the way you all feel, it ain’t right, it ain’t real, it does sound like lust, it does sound like something you should maybe run away from, or lust after, it does feel very right, it does feel very real, dark jazz in some basement, dark noire and pulp, pulp fiction, Edward Hopper, Jackson Pollock, Flying Luttenbackers in a basement of an art gallery paperback format with some kind of dark-edged half spoken beat poet of a singer and wired up klang and angles that are straight, but nothing is straight and then there’s the lounge lizard cocktail hour bits and I want you to stay the same, don’t you know that? And the colours don’t dry right and this is what we’re here for, 43 minutes of none stop one track on track get the facts and lock the doors, break on through, wild progressive jazz, wild words, continue, continue… 

They released it earlier this year, word is creeping around town and then there’s the floating through the dream bit, or the clouds and they certainly can play, there’s something tight here, a chemistry, an alchemy, some kind of art rock, there’s something…   (sw)

Bandcamp