Herva is excitable. The results of 'Kila' aren't rushed as in slapdash, but the Italian scratches an itch that mires electronica in urgency, agitation and nervous energy, presented in the form of needle skips, distorted chops and digital potholes. Smooth rides are a no-no, everything appears caught in a rush hour lift all day long, and straight-up bangers like the ugly heave of 'Video Volume' are, y'know, never quite that straight-up.
Either a maverick or restless soul, getting directly from A to B presents little challenge. From 2012's buttery (and in retrospect, ironically named) 'Meanwhile in Madland', Herva's sound appears to have gradually become more dislocated year on year. The jumpy 'Trying to Fix Invisible Textures' speaks for itself, burying alive opening acts of ambience, and laptop manipulator 'Mistakes Dealer' represents electronica where there's loads going on minus any grand mission statement.
'Seat Behind Mirrors' turns its hand to data buffering – all pummelling, spotty beats that push down with increasing pressure – and 'Disk Atk', at the mercy of maximalism, lets the sun in through the tangles and shows Herva can contrast light and dark with a greater subtlety of touch. It's the marauding, zigzagging title track however, coarsely dodging CCTV bullets, which feels like Herva has really been zoning in on Planet Mu since day dot.
A live spectacle may take the faculties for a swim, only in the sense that Herva's animation would supersede any crowd participation."You hear my music, you get to see how my brain works" he says, deliberately placing himself somewhere between intricate grey cell firer and someone frantically dashing to the bar for last orders. Inevitably, it's a thin line between all 'Kila' and no filler.
Words: Matt Oliver
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