They say:
If a band is first called Och , secondly their albums are numbered and thirdly instrumental Krautrock, then our favorite rocket recordings label can't be far to wrap ourselves up with self-adhesive tapes full of psychoactive substances.
'Och' is Swedish, like the band, and means 'and'. "II" follows an EP released six years ago in self-distribution. There is not much more to report, that's the good thing about it. A train operated by the Berliner Verkehrsbetriebe takes us deep into the winding rabbit hole full of circles and umlauts via Mohrenstrasse: "Pandemi På Händelö". The eight pieces sound as enigmatic as it all sounds, but they are fuzzy from time. As if you had recovered old crystal tablets from some grave and played them on a specially made device that nobody really knows how it works.
It all sounds a lot like Goat, but Och is far less committed to grooves, punch and madness. What happens in a Goat song fills an entire album here. The sounds stand in the room for minutes, slowly turn around themselves, are constantly caught in a dense network of drones. Then the material slowly moves and the initially sluggish synthesizer swirls rotate so quickly that they run into one another like colored laundry in the spin cycle. As a listener, you come to the place where you can just let yourself be carried away. Perhaps this is the way to ultimate musical enlightenment. Or maybe only the turntable is at the wrong playback speed.
Read the full piece here: Neolyd
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