Lx Sweat

Lx Sweat

City Of Sweat

Not Not Fun

German steamroom wrecking crew LX Sweat returns from a winter of festival dates and self-symbiosis to lay out an impressively realized full-length debut of voidist club fantasia, equal parts Screw bootlegs, slow-jack synth freestyle, and degraded phaser wash.  City of Sweat spirals through a judgement night of weird, codeined lust, luxury hallucinations, overdosed syrup rituals, and long, blurry nights stumbling home through alleys in the rain. Like last year’s Sweat Sweat Sweat cassette, this new LP siphons certain R&B and Memphis swap-meet structures but stretches them so they sprawl and sag and slide in strange moments, giving the songs a mesmerizing melting quality, like hearing overheated vinyl dissolving into the needle. An entrancing, numbed-out suite of pleasure-faded electronics by a rare head.

Lx Sweat

Sweat Sweat Sweat

Not Not Fun

Given that we're living in the age of the come-back, one terrain we’ve been extra-pleased to see get resurrected and siphoned through the stargate of cassette-crud mutation is hypno R&B. A significant cut of global listeners can count the style as one of their formative musical memories, so there’s nothing shallow or ironic about its recent reappropriation in alien-ized bedroom beat scenes (regardless of what blog conservatives post to the contrary). All of which is joyously confirmed and celebrated in the retro-futurist exoskeletons scavenged and funkified by Germany’s one-man groove merchant LX Sweat. Screwed Up Click backing tracks are stacked high with sci-fi vocoder-soul vox, lush synthesizer counter melodies, and classic echo/reverb unit studio trickery for a production that’s vaguely reminiscent of Barry-White-on-morphine-transmitted-through-a-fax-machine-to-a-low-wattage-pirate-radio-station. Steamy, disembodied bubble baths of endorphin slow-rides and pleasure crunk. Excellent shit, and only the beginning for this inspired dude.