Distort Everything Forever

Fractured and fearful, Distort Everything Forever exists in the tenebrous - in the space between bones, when the body finally collapses.

For such a shadowy record, SUAHN's debut carries with it a lot of weight. There's a hefty, primal weight in the dense basslines of "Drift", in the strong techno kicks of "Brutal Truth", in the heavy-handed synth and abrasive drops of "Losing My Grip". But the weight is handled with great nuance. Strung against a charcoal backdrop, the record's weight is merely another punch in the abyss at the back of the club.

SUAHN's sound, here, is very much derived from club music. The rave-oriented sampling that persists throughout the tracklist proves that derivation - elsewhere, the foundational rhythms of breakbeat and techno are constantly present. The sound design, too, is reflective of the experimental club space, reminiscient of contemporaries like G Jones - it's acidic and often vaguely computerized in quality, free to shuffle around, but tightly-lipped and tightly held.

But where Distort Everything Forever is really pushing the envelope is in its rhythmic work. There's something uncannily psychological about the record's atmosphere, in moments of anguish or panic or dread, where the sound walllows in ambient self-hatred, or swells up in bursts of distorted emotion. Rhythmically Distort Everything Forever is broken up and disjointed, with strange, jagged drum loops and a jarring twang to its unevenness, even at its most predictable. "Thin Air" is one such track - it begins with choppy minimalism, but quickly explodes into various powerful drops, each of which seem detached from the soundscape, anchored loosely, perhaps by the big synth hits, or perhaps by the push-and-pull groove that sets itself going through the second half. Not long later, "Lost in it All" - perhaps the heaviest track of the album - opens up into a single-minded bass expulsion, loud and somewhat atonal, like a failed catharsis.

Meanwhile, the feeling of dread in the album exists in its quieter parts. These parts are darker and more minimal, like "Pressure", a cold soundscape that plays as a void of negative space, into which SUAHN inserts sharp-edged percussion into, poking at the atmosphere rather than serving its rhythm. It is fantastically written, and almost ghoulish to listen to, even though the club sensibility is still, faintly, there. The album's closer, "Thaw", is similar, though far more stripped-back - and instead of anguish, it holds great beauty, as if Distort Everything Forever is finally able to exhale. Warm synth padding and beatless ambience are the blanket by which this cut insulates itself, like protection from the harsh sounds of the tracklist before it - as the longest cut on the record, it does well to be a tasteful closer.

To the rhythm junkie Distort Everything Forever is exceptionally crafty, if a little difficult to pin down. To the sound designer, it is equally compelling, though not as an enterprising record necessarily - rather, the production is manipulated around the songwriting incessantly. Big buildups are marked by flurries of distorted sound and crunching drums whose skeletons linger in the air, and the breakdowns are hazy and unwavering, washed with a darker tint. The nature of Distort Everything Forever does not come across as experimental in its individual elements, but rather as a holistic product, at the intersection of SUAHN's production and songwriting and the atmosphere of the record from front to back.

It's a dark album, to be sure, but not one that would inspire horror, or melancholy. And it's rowdy and brash, but discreetly so, as if the energy it brims with is veiled in some way. Distort Everything Forever is, ultimately, perhaps just what the title wills it to be - a liminal, fractured, yet uncompromising and highly technical exploration of what experimental club and bass music might never be, and will always be.

Listen on Spotify here.