Whettman Chelmets – The Rain, The Pour
The Rain, The Pour
Whettman Chelmets
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020
May 28, 2020
June 5, 2020
June 5, 2020
June 5, 2020
June 10, 2020
June 16, 2020
June 17, 2020
June 19, 2020
June 23, 2020
June 26, 2020
June 27, 2020
July 1, 2020
July 14, 2020
July 17, 2020
July 18, 2020
July 20, 2020
July 21, 2020
July 23, 2020
July 24, 2020
July 30, 2020
July 30, 2020
July 31, 2020
August 2, 2020
August 5, 2020
August 7, 2020
August 11, 2020
August 14, 2020
August 18, 2020
August 19, 2020
August 21, 2020
August 24, 2020
August 25, 2020
August 29, 2020
September 5, 2020
September 5, 2020
September 9, 2020
September 11, 2020
September 14, 2020
September 15, 2020
September 17, 2020
September 21, 2020
September 27, 2020
September 28, 2020
October 13, 2020
October 16, 2020
October 21, 2020
October 29, 2020
October 31, 2020
November 1, 2020
November 5, 2020
November 10, 2020
November 12, 2020
November 23, 2020
November 26, 2020
November 29, 2020
December 4, 2020
December 10, 2020
December 12, 2020
December 15, 2020
December 22, 2020
December 27, 2020
December 30, 2020
December 31, 2020
January 7, 2021
January 9, 2021
January 17, 2021
January 24, 2021
January 31, 2021
February 1, 2021
February 7, 2021
February 18, 2021
February 24, 2021
March 4, 2021
March 11, 2021
March 31, 2021
April 16, 2021
April 20, 2021
May 4, 2021
Liam Murphy
June 1, 2022
Tracks in this feature
Tracks in this release
The glitched noise that pushes through at the very start of the self-titled clust.r is one of clear obsolescence; it does not serve any purpose, and spews out in fits and starts. There is no shortage of dissonant noise in electronic music, with experimental genres veering off into tunelessness and some styles that use droning feedback as their primary instrument. But on the opener recreating dream, the listener finds the artist setting out the mantra that will define the majority of the release. As no sooner than the listener has consigned themselves to a bumpy experience, clust.r veers sharply into a place of buoyant melodious fun. A step sequencer pushes loud sound out in the form of fun-filled chords as an emotive toy-sounding synth chases round in circles. Though the artist has not completely disregarded the blaring noise, their intention is now to provide an extremist poppy sound, bursting to the point of cacophony.
Onward through the album clust.r continues to wield this same step sequencer, feeding loud noise into it and producing busy chords and sounds that are then penned into a range of styles. self-identity begins with a fit of kick drums spraying mid-range frequency noise out in all directions, as a soulful melody somehow finds its way through. your house is that sort of mainstream triumphant 4-to-the-floor affair you would expect from an Inspector Norse or Caribou, with the glassy sporadic noise giving the track a unique edge. satin plays out almost sounding like a feelgood anthem from a chill/lounge radio station, little curling guitar samples and trumpets reaching out of the swirling juddering sound.
As mentioned in the release’s liner notes, clust.r hugs tight to the inspiration of tirestires, an artist or group hailing from Toronto most notable for album shadowdog. It is from this project that clust.r draws much of its brazen maximalism. But to restrict this collection to the label of mere mimicry is to do it a disservice.
Uncompromising in its style and fearless in its mixing of noise and melody, the mysterious clust.r is captivating throughout. Its sound heavily-inspired by glitch pop, this album finds its voice in carefully-crafted melodies timed and positioned delicately in order to be glimpsed through shards of electronic chaos.