This is a past event.
When: Sat., May 12, 9 p.m. 2012
Price: $10
I spent part of this morning listening to Black Dice's new record, Mr. Impossible, and man, it is still seriously fucking with me. The bitcrushers and hisses and unnaturally abrasive sounds are all there—as are the sudden, knife-stab loops and irregular, lurching rhythms—but there's also a bit of melodic sweetness hiding in all that confrontational noise. I think that's what's fucking with me. Black Dice corrupts the ear into tricking the mind, and they will lull you into thinking that these almost-steady rhythms are going to keep stable, that these boinging synths are something you could have heard on Innervisions, that these faint traces of melody are going to play by the rules. But the Brooklyn-by-way-of-Providence experimental collective never plays by the rules, which makes their warped weirdness that much more invasive and unsettling. Black Dice used to be known for playing aggressive 15-minute sets, but without an opener on tonight's bill, they're bound to stretch out a bit. NED LANNAMANN

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