The one-track mind of Masaya Kyuhei breaks the latch on his fleet of kickdrum beasts that have been made to pump iron in the name of dancefloor bloodsport. The clues in the title and the label represent pure Japanese techno machinery bolting from a cage the size of an aircraft hangar, and while reasonably and expectedly dark, it gleams under a full moon with all of its platinum pistons buffed and ready to grab scruffs of necks.
The minimalism (read, nothing much gets a look-in once the drums are set) has you jump up to the flying of sparks and echo calculating its way across blacked-out space; about as much adornment comes on “Buddyroid,” a deafening 18-wheeler with a claxon intermittently going off to declare core meltdown is on its way and a building synth spray providing a strong and seldom uplifting afterglow. Interrupted by the pit stops of “Signal” and “Montreux” telling the accelerator to take five before making a swooping surround sound re-entry, Q’Hey’s cracking of the whip lands down the middle of an argument between straight to the point techno or a relentless clunk in need of variation.
“Cut the Crap” ironically uses the album’s central, uncompromising bounce like its slam dunking medicine balls to cajole a wee bit of funkiness out of the procession, and “Enter”‘s ear-ringing riff bearing down like atomic raindrops shows slight modifications to the management of mind and muscle. Wanna stomp? Q’Hey has the answers.
File under: Hideo Kobayashi, Spektre, Markus Suckut