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Birth and decay are both moments of abjection, wherein the subject is removed from the great mother and becomes conscious of a unique identity devoid of interference from cultural perceptions. The phenomenon is no magical circumstance, rather a self initiated exile into a world of infinite possibilities -a moment that generally evades our grasp. However, some are able to embrace this state of reality and become the uncanny abject of our heart’s desire.
Nightspace is Seattle’s very own destroyer of the super-ego; using synthesized sounds to distance themselves from the status quo of pop. Though, you may find something familiar in the four-on-the-floor kick drum, don’t let it fool you; Eurythmics did it too and they set themselves apart from the synth-pop of the 80’s with darkness and gravity much in the same way Nightspace also does so fluently. Rejecting themselves from the same school of industrial cold-wave as Cabaret Voltaire, Nightspace combines the sex and death of a slowed down Belgian Hardstyle DJ with Ian Curtis’ cavernous admonitions of a completely dejected reality, jutting out from the walls of deviance that seem to be closing in on them. Concurrently, looming and distorted synthesized lines weave in and out of Nightspace’s techno-terror with sincerity, conjuring fake memories of Demdike Stare covering the Suspira soundtrack, an occurrence that has not happened (though we wish it would).
The abjection that occurs from listening to Nightspace is a beautiful fracture of reality that all should be aware of. Whether you crave the horror of love or the placidity of death, hearing Nightspace will remove you from both and surly enhance you as a person and a listener.
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