If AOL’s old internet connection malfunctioned and caused ten million computers to crash, it wouldn’t even come close to the complete noise corruption on 8 of Cups.
That may sound as if I’m saying it’s just complete noise. And well, it is. But it’s rather brilliant noise.
Now with a running time of twenty-four minutes, it would be impossible to provide an elaborate review which dives into the deepest depths of Boeldt’s inner madness. Instead when listening through, just forget the idea that 8 of Cups will be some magical journey, which elevates you into another realm. 8 Of Cups’ purpose is to provide enough energy to supply a house junkies entire night and then some.
Tea, Phone Call and Living Dream are the album’s biggest underground-dance-floor hitters. Managing to throw together several different soundscapes, amalgamating to become forces of complete bodily destruction; each track could easily test the dance skills of any major dance/house/acid-dub fan.
On tracks Nom, Performer and Have A Pizza, Boeldt ties together a series of retro gaming influences, placing together sound effects and background tracks that vary from Space Invaders, to Legend of Zelda and Lavender Town in Pokémon.
Nom brings a calming few seconds after Tea’s electro-bursts, before loading up blaring bass beats and transforming into Mario Vs Donkey King. While Performer finds itself somewhere between the calming music of the Pokémon centre, crossed together with a malevolent voice over playing Windows 2000 pinball game.
Valley Amnesia personally speaking, is 8 of Cups most ‘beautiful’ track. Floating somewhere between the music from a games’ end-credits sequence and light airy, dream-pop meets house beats, Valley Amnesia lightens up the previous eighteen minutes of bass driven house, like catching a moment of fresh air, before immediately diving back into a sweaty warehouse rave.
Caught somewhere between the mystic realm of 1980’s SNES gaming and a paradox between Sonic.EXE mixed with Zelda, Boeldt creates a world of electronic paranoia which is honestly fantastic. Whether you’d call it a highly malfunctioning equipment crash, tuned into a dodgy aerial connection, playing through an old VCR, or a combination of five thousand different sounds at once; 8 of Cups thrives upon this chaotic, electronic ludicrousness. Just make sure your speakers/earphones/body can handle these jam-packed, twenty-four minutes.