chris.topp

Ben Frost - Theory Of Machines — chris.topp

June 20, 2013
edited over 8 years ago
This has to be one of the worst sleeve designs of all time. Bedroom Community is rightfully known to have ridiculous cover artworks, but this really takes the cake. What were they thinking? It nearly destroys the music for me, because everytime I want to listen to it, I have a vivid mental image of that horrendous cover before my eyes. Not to mention the unpleasent aesthetic experience of actually having the LP in your hand.
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tornobi

Ben Frost - Theory Of Machines — tornobi

November 12, 2014
It's true, BC are truly awful with artwork.
The top prize, however, must go to Frost's Solaris LP. It looks like a bad early 90s trance record!
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scoundrel

Ben Frost - Theory Of Machines as reviewed by scoundrel

October 24, 2011

Ben Frost's THEORY OF MACHINES delves deep into the long, sustained tones of ambience and comes up with something dark and primal, like a Lovecraftian Elder God. The title track itself sounds like a prayer, complete with a pained growl of desperation. With "Stomp," the prayer ends, and what's left is a seething anger, one that never comes to the surface but instead bubbles underneath. The paean to the Swans frontman, "We Love You Michael Gira" is like a cardiogram for someone in a coma, but whose consciounsess is struggling to regain control. But the final, long track, "Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water" harkens back to the first track -- another slow, symphonic build, with slightly de-tuned strings, like a concern in a submerged church. Most likely to Dagon.
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ninfan85

Ben Frost - Theory Of Machines — ninfan85

June 24, 2012
Deep
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asmadeus

Ben Frost - Theory Of Machines as reviewed by asmadeus

January 13, 2008
I can only describe Theory of Machines as ambient hardcore. Australian born Ben Frost builds walls of noise that rise steadily and slowly, and come crashing down on command. Now residing in Reykjavik, Frost exploits all of the extreme properties of sound. Psychologically raw, punishing, and overdriven guitars, with reverberated pads and rhythms mutate into the white noise and back, sending chills that originate deep from within the ear canal and slide down to the toenails. Frost often made me scratch my ear canal and occasionally get up to check the monitors that sounded blown out, emitting graceful static. Coming from a rock background, and being a member of a band called School of Emotional Engineering, Frost is not particularly interested in electronic music, and rather relies heavily on dark minimalism and industrial noise to compose truly one of the most interesting and irreversible memory imprints of the year.
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