Anthroprophh’s music originates in the evolutionary field work of both his endless 33.333 rituals and near mythical status of one of the UK’s greatest underground acts; The Heads.
The Heads have been carving their own brand of kinetic psychoacoustics since the early 90’s and Anthroprophh continues that Bristolian tradition with his latest spectrum of sonic assaults.
The six tracks unearthed follow the Krautrock tradition of at times being anarchic, at others mystical, magical, or utopian. Heavy on the the planetary rhythms, laced percussive half man, half machine grooves, Anthroprophh glazes his music with a darker spirit of Michael Karoli and CAN secret rhythms.
Anthroprophh is concerned with all aspects of musical behavior, past, present, and with an eye to the future like the sonic output you would find on labels such as Blackest Rainbow and Not Not Fun. His interest in the oscillating neuronal discharges of instruments induce the long distance pattern of synchronization, corresponding to the moment of perception itself and to the ensuing Motorik response.
So ‘Join Inn’ Anthroprophh’s ancestral hunter & gatherer sanctuary with his satellitic dependence astralwerks, human, humanoid, or humanlike, this is the sound of the mind burning out.
Anthroprophh will be playing tracks off the album around the UK with fellow Bristolian’s and The Heads collaborators ‘Big Naturals’ as his backing band throughout the year.
The album is also available on vinyl ltd in a special mirrored board sleeve with a bonus CD
One of the most thought-provoking political albums I've heard - the power mechanisms being critiqued are always just out of view, implied through seemingly overheard conversations and oppressive, claustrophobic electronics. A direct line could be drawn from punk to this via Swans' Soundtracks For The Blind, except here the anger of punk is completely dissolved into apathy and powerlessness. This is the perfect soundtrack to the modern political landscape. Elliot Finch
Enlightenment at gunpoint, Gnod is a runaway mechanical colossus flattening everything into paste. This is the kind of music Throbbing Gristle or Coil would have made if they had balls the size of houses and an infinite supply of bad acid. Tom Colquhoun