Under the restless blanket of a heartless night, the sculptor shifted uneasily in his atelier sleeping quarter. Slumber evaded him, every hallucination of momentary solace chased quickly into the shadows of his disquiet. Tormented by the weight of his task, to surpass the greatest creators of the past and deliver to their dynasty an icon to strike fear and awe into the hearts of the proletariat... In the depths of that darkness his mind cried out to every conceivable higher entity, light and dark - begging for the inspiration that would save him from certain execution that would surely be inflicted upon his failure. With the encroachment of dawn, pure tiredness washed over him... pulling his flayed mind into a shallow sea of morbid sleep. A torrent of nightmares flooded his mind - visions of an amorphous entity clawing at birthing sack, a hideous soul struggling for its freedom. He awoke with a gasp, panting billowing clouds of hot breath into the freezing dawn. Something glinted dully upon his bedside in the morning light - the razor edge of a sculptor's blade. Picking it up and looking closely at its sharp form, his eyes moved over the obscure script that ran down its length. He was certain it wasn't there in the night, it certainly wasn't one of his... He rose from bed, moving over to the head-shaped block of clay that had awaited his touch for too long. With precision he swiftly scraped deep into the featureless façade. With a sudden gasp he staggered back, dropping the infernal tool in horror - fear seared deep into his eyes... the clay had reacted, drawing away from the blades edge as if it was living tissue, a trickle of blood seeping out of the fresh wound. The barely shaped head was moving... writhing as if in pain, as if it couldn't breathe - there was something trapped inside the clay! He quickly picked up the blade, cutting again and again, freeing its twisted and tortured mouth, slicing away the substance piece by piece, uncovering the flesh beneath... freeing anguish-filled, bloodshot eyes that flicked around in perpetual terror. He stepped back... looking with his mouth wide at the vision that confronted him - the head twisting to free itself from his sculptor's block, a vision of suffering, the deep pain of reality flooding into his creation's soul.
Bl4ck Owlz & The Clamps have released an insane piece of work called Facescraper. This EP is borderline nuts. I mean, they scream that they want to scrape your face in the song! It certainly stands apart from other tracks of this nature. The mixing of the tracks are crystal clear with everything popping. The tracks themselves are oozing in crazy rips. Low bass tones riff up and up until you hit a moment where the unexpected thing happens and then….. the drop. Each track is very aggressive catching the madness in the idea of a Face Scrapper. It seems the main message is just to go wild! Many of these tracks have syncopations that go with the melody aiding the impact of each sound. The songwriting is of an instrumentalist view, in which each timber, each rhythm is the main method of delivering the idea to the listener rather than using words as the primary method of communication. There is no question that there is some serious communication happening here, and as you add this to your set of music you will find yourself jamming away wherever you are regardless of the people around! Eric Burgess
bel // EatbrainArtist // Bl4ck Owlz & The ClampsRelease // Facescraper EP Release Date // Beatport Excl 07.11.2016 WW 21.11.2016
MetLab Agency http://methlab-agency.com