“Hey! What does this button do?” They look on pensively as the step sequencer on their synthesizers initiate flickering lights in what appears to be a particle wave of ding. “Virtuoso mode” They grin.
Yeah, right, we’re not running in the nineties anymore! Silly Punks, we have Cylon overlords (or something) to perform for us now.
In your face electronica act GosT have produced the improbable CGA. Computer Generated Attitude for Colour Graphics Interpreters. ‘CGA 4 CGI’ for Industry nerds looking to expand their tech bubble. Cool and arty but without the failings of emotion.
The main trouble on Behemoth is being caused by everything GosT does right, for instance bright and melodious engineering tighter than a cosmetic surgeons forty-second face lift on the same patient. Although not to imply the scariest thing about Behemoth is the possibility of Pete Burns smirking at you seductively through the Ether, because that is not going to happen. Fingers crossed.
The compositions on this sound fest are mostly unmemorable as the rate of sequenced notes blurs into one theme. The intensity of these broken scenes make this slasher into a series of indifferent murmurs. Sidney Prescott surmised this premise eloquently in Scream: “What’s the point? They’re all the same. Some stupid killer stalking some big-breasted girl who can’t act who is always running up the stairs when she should be running out the front door. It’s insulting.” For the sake of pop culture let us change ‘big’ to ‘fat;’ ‘breasted’ to ‘dirty;’ and ‘girl’ to ‘bass.’ No trouble. Wink.
There are occasional moments when the ear battering riffs give way to some drilling bass noise but those sections are not given enough space and time to be really appreciated before the arpeggios start running in all directions again, essentially here is more gore than guts on this bedroom floor. However there are some inflections in the voices (sounds) used to build up some actual tension, and these are well implemented but unfortunately rare leaving the album a psychedelic mess bereft of humanity, and with some distinction in the songs this could have been a cool killer fest, but instead it makes me wanting for the inevitable day that humans will play for robots.
Good production values are driven down towards a basement of songs with a similar outcome and no real sense of purpose.