Tentacle Loot #29 | mimoid: mmxx

It’s been a bit quiet here for some time. So why not tune back in a quite loud manner 😉

For some time now I’ve gained a little more trust in Soundcloud. It remains to be seen whether this will last in the long term and whether Soundcloud will manage to decide at some point whether they want to milk either fans or musicians. But at least the algorithms are still refreshingly blunt.

And it was through them that I came across Mimoid. A Toronto based producer about whom you can guess more than you can find out from his previous output. But one thing can be attested without a doubt: an excessive predilection for acid. And so the usual suspicious number combinations from 303 to 808 gather at a table to document their violent disputes on tape. Which… sure…isn’t a whole new concept by itself, but Mimoid manages to stretch his acid with a good number of his own ingredients. If you listen to Mimoid’s second work DSTD, you might get the impression that someone is striving for some good manners here on mmxx. Largely DJ-friendly tempos and selected ingredients. Something that usually doesn’t always work out well, because a child who tries to play by the rules of adults doesn’t really play in the end. But Mimoid is no ordinary child. He suffers from a severe form of serious brain dancer. His uncanny energy builds up through the constant urge to break out of the usual patterns. The individual elements of each track, from the acid lines, machine rhythms and rave stabs, keep pounding against the limits of the traditional set of rules in order to defy themselves and to let off some steam.

mmxx reveals its strengths in two main challenges. On the one hand, in how he manages to weld his repertoire of tracks together and pastes them properly with grease and dirt. And then there is the groove, which doesn’t just make everything a little more funky or wonky or whatever, but rather ensures that our usual suspicious combination of numbers don’t persist in self-disputes, but rather attack each other properly. The acid lines seem to break apart again and again between stoic and stumbling, only to be whipped back into the pattern by a clap or something at the same time. And in the end there is always only one direction: forward!

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