Nick Edwards (2) ‎– Plekzationz

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Cat# Artist Title (Format) Label Cat# Country Year
eMEGO 145 Nick Edwards (2) Plekzationz(2xLP, Album) Editions Mego eMEGO 145 Austria 2012 Sell This Version
EDITIONS mego 145CD Nick Edwards (2) Plekzationz(CD, Album) Editions Mego EDITIONS mego 145CD Austria 2012 Sell This Version

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September 15, 2012
referencing Plekzationz, CD, Album, EDITIONS mego 145CD
There has been a leak at the Nunton Complekz. If you don't get that reference, here is what I'm alluding to: earlier in the year, Ekoplekz's maestro put out a stand alone four track collection of dismembered audio entitled The Nunton Complekz which floated along in a menacing display of synthesis. Now that he's done an album under his own name, the set is complete. This may or may not have been the intended end result but when played together, these two releases form a cohesive whole which is something splendid indeed. If the aforementioned album was a tour of a deserted facility which eerily clings to life, then Plekzationz would be the vitriolic material which this auditory reactor was burnishing; make no mistake about it, this new outing is one that gets quite unconventional and earns high marks (sic) for the exploratory nature it presents. If you don't read any further in this review, then note this and note this well: this work is alive, it is a corrosive dose of anti-matter to the veins of the populist body politic which denies the unknown, giddily accepting the limitations of format, genre and "scene".

As these long form songs (are they? possibly...) play out, the level of detailing becomes more and more apparent. I've heard some very strange things out of this guy but they have never been so visceral or so diabolically well ordered. Saturation levels are achieved, then comes the meltdown and after this we're cut adrift into the wafting fallout. Particles of sound bend reality this way and that, never stopping long enough for their full shape to be made complete. As has become the norm as of late from Mr. Edwards, he likes to juxtapose the terrestrial with the cosmic in his sound designs. That is to say, you'll hear a bass guitar plucking out a tentative establishing line only to have it become swamped by wave after wave of modular dissection. Could we be hearing a dissertation on the verdant nature of biological composition or are we bearing witness to something even stranger - that of a singular directive of purpose which seeks out the incompatible elements of existential modality and somehow fashions a bizarrely enchanting new creation.

A creation which whirs gently, then becomes deliciously extended through repetitions which insert new nuances at each completion of their cycle. I've been hard pressed to pin down what is going on here in a precise manner (having been in possession of this record for over two months now) and rather than catalog the tones and transpositions I decided after much hand wringing to simply let these Plekzationz run amok. While many in electronic music embrace trends and chase bandwagons, Nick Edwards has made the clearly remarkable choice to stand under his own name and let the chips fall where they may. He's a busy fellow, without doubt, and many interesting collaborations have taken place that involved him; it has become more and more apparent that he's heading into remarkably strange waters with the work he does.

Compared to when I first became aware of him a mere year and a half ago, this artist has gone through multiple metamorphoses and shows no sign of stopping. The music which he makes reflects this approach; like a butterfly continually shedding it's wings only to grow out of the new ones which emerge in their place, Edwards, under whatever name he chooses to operate evolves ceaselessly. You don't ever have to worry about getting mediocre, phoned in material from this one. I do believe he'd regard that eventuality as too vulgar to even be mentioned, and anyway, isn't there enough filler being generated out there by these purveyors of nichery? I'll stick with the meat of the matter, which is textured and layered with such sumptuous aplomb that even now the light behind my blinds moves and shifts in time with what's playing. Inanimate matter somehow becomes innately part of the sculptures cut out of this acrid, ethereal world which lurches this way and that, throwing everything out of focus. Or perhaps it has simply re-aligned what was always there, allowing us to see it for the first time.

I leave it with you.