"Weird dudes jamming synths. Alone. Social Problems. Problems. Recorded late into the night. Fucking A. That is the business, right there. Check Ze Wormnest or Matthew Young for bleary eyed-no-fan sound destruction. Shit is just creepy-gets under your skin. While most noise youth get their chocolate fingers lost in gadgetry and posturing-something about a synth jam thats just.... Human ... humanly wrong. But fucking right. Right on Hive Mind. Out of some strange comic miasma emerged this hulking thing known for playing in corners or under black sheets with short fingers churning out cosmic tales of bass heavy sheets of molten alien sound cut with xray pirate eyes. Dude is some serious Michigan shit. This sound-injecting terrorist is crew to all the like minded and total jag-off MI underground weirdo brethrens. I think he soaked his pyramid genitals in ice cold antifreeze to get where Death Tone lives in underwater-cave life. Jamz are just lurking around your chest buzzing like a Mike Tyson bee until a nuclear war-spear goes directly into your chest leaving your breath exchanged for Korean X-Files future creature Autopsy scenes. Ive been to Roswell, shit is creepy, even at Pizza Hut, mid day. None of my crew jamz synths, some dabble but dont have the slomo overbite terror vision of my man Hive Mind. Isnt your jellied brain a fucking hive? Mine has a really big queen in the center telling me to keep watching The Thing (remake) with the sound off in a super warm birth room while listening to Death Tone on a dying Walkman. I dont listen to the queen, or take advice. Me and my man the Kid thought all Hive Mind needed to hone in his awesome social synth prowess was to be locked in a room with Richard Pinhas for a year on a diet of nothing but snake burritos-but again-no one listens to advice, especially a homeboy. Psychotic drugs, cheap beer, shorties, the Roach, assholes, hung over at work... yesss, heroes to the High Life."
Published by: John Olson.