Shackleton

Shackleton

If it’s late and I want to get someone to leave my apartment, I put on Shackleton. It works, though not for the reasons you think. A lot of music is wonderful yet painful, irritating, aggressive, cathartic etc; there isn’t much that is both terrific, and terrifically unnerving. Shackleton’s music is that. It isn’t atonal, and it’s highly rhythmic. Other than “Blood On My Hands,” the single that announced Sam Shackleton and his former label Skull Disco to the world, his music isn’t even particularly offensive. It’s just uncomfortable, the way the bass pressure combines with notes and textures that jostle roughly together, like people on a too-crowded streetcar. In that, it’s like the best dub – weed paranoia, cocaine psychosis, an epic hangover, the brain leaking information and grinding its gears, in a uniquely captivating way. The other reason I put Shackleton’s records on to get rid of people is that when they leave, I can savour it all by myself.

Nocturne 1: Pulsation Perception // All-Natural Ambience. Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal, Salle 2 185 Ste-Catherine St. Ouest, Wednesday, May 28, 10pm-3am. Sold out.

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